A favorite stone. Like the one a lover gave or you found while having an epiphany in nature. Like your grandpa’s tools. Your great great grandpa’s tools. Or your great great grandma’s sewing machine. Or the family homestead with stories imbued in the walls and land.

Or perhaps jewels and gold and stocks and pork bellies. Or barrels of oil.

Or perhaps the touch of love.

Or the future generations. Your own progeny. Your inner child. Their inner child. And the core within that child.

Or cute things like puppies and butterflies and old people and babies.

Or perhaps the land. With undiscovered creatures and plants and other life. Of the medicine of Nature.

Or perhaps the most precious thing is out time and attention.

That currency which we can experience all other with.

Attention and focus.

So precious yet so obvious.

The magic of obvious yet overlooked and disregarded.

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