This past week I turned my back on the ravaged garden and the invading colony of ants, tipped my hat to the continuingly tireless efforts of the various clean-up crews around the Island, and just left. At the time it seemed ludicrous, there was so much to do. But the trip had been booked for months, and you can’t ‘un-tell’ a seven-year-old, “We’re going to Disney!”

So we went. My first time there since I was that age, back when Epcot was just a construction site.

Adulthood has made me sceptical though, awaiting a giant, glossy bubble of saccharin commercialism with big ears. I dreaded Stepford, mouse-clad automatons plastered in fake smiles, manning tacky amusement park rides with endless queues.

But it wasn’t like that. And I loved it.

From the moment I arrived I was overwhelmed by the spectacle, the attention to detail, the sheer scale of it all. So much thought and imagination and fine-tuning has clearly gone into each aspect of the different parks: the entertainment, the shops, the logistics. And the people — either all incredibly talented actors or genuinely pleased to be there, happy to be doing their jobs. From the dustcart pushers to the ‘It’s a Small World’ operators, everyone had a kind word, a wave and a helpful answer to any question I could throw at them. As testament to what belief in a dream, creative thinking, effective talent management and strong organisational leadership can produce: the place is magnificent.

That’s before I even touch on the sentimental side. I’m no ‘princessy’ princess, but who isn’t inspired by the sight of a lit-up, magical castle? It is the stuff of fairy-tales, of fantasy, of happy endings. It’s the fulfillment of childhood wishes, like a group of kids got together and said, “Wouldn’t it be so cool if …” then actually made it happen. I got to be Commander on a shuttle mission, hand-glide over California, adventure on an African safari and experience a death-defying spaceship chase in a galaxy far, far away.

It was so nice allowing myself to be surprised. The cynic in me rarely gets that chance. On our first day, when we saw some familiar cartoon faces amble by waving, my son leaned in and asked, “They’re just people in suits, right?” But neither he nor I could resist becoming all silly and smiles when a certain Mouse stopped by our dinner table for a photo op. It felt good choosing to believe.

I clearly drank the Kool-Aid (every drop), and indeed felt giddy as my inner child was invited out to play and I found myself marvelling at the world again.

At film school, years ago, I remember scriptwriting professors extolling a key component of dramatic cinema structure they called, ‘the magic and wonder scene’. Good films tend to have one. It’s when we, the audience, get to experience the joy and rapture of the character, as they see their world through new eyes. Flying over the flamingos in ‘Out of Africa’, on a makeshift swing discovering ancient cave paintings by candlelight in ‘The English Patient’ — they are the moments in the movies that take our breath away. The ‘wow’ factor, that leaves us feeling energised and hopeful and in love with possibility.

So just as Hollywood might be able to write these into a screenplay, it is surely possible to write more magic and wonder into our own lives.

I recently enjoyed a magic and wonder scene this summer, on a staycation in Bermuda.

Yes, part of it was circumstance, the weather was glorious, the setting, pristine. But I think it largely came down to attitude. We were willing to be excited and primed for magic, but with no real expectations … so everything became a pleasant surprise. If you’d asked, I’d have said, hands down, that I was in the happiest place on earth.

In distilling these kinds of moments, I have noticed a couple of other key ingredients to creating magic:

* It feels like something out of the ordinary. Even in a familiar setting there’s the idea that there’s something different and special about it — it’s seen as a treat.

* Often it involves someone doing something special for us and their efforts and imagination involved feel like a gift freely given for our pleasure (nothing expected in return).

* The more deeply present in that moment we are, the more we enjoy it. Thinking about work on Monday or chores to be done, evaporates magic. Immersing ourselves in our current time and space, like children do naturally, allows us to fully enjoy each aspect that unfolds and fills us with that gratitude that wonder creates.

These are not impossible things to conjure. There’s always an excuse to create something special if we need one — Halloweeen, Thanksgiving, Christmas is right around the corner. It’s Wednesday … Might not these be useful attitudes even around the dinner table? So often I’m rushed or distracted, racing through life’s moments, not appreciating the magic that naturally exists in them. How great would it be to bring a little Disney World home with me?

Did you know there are around 60,000 people who work just at Disney, Florida? That’s the population of Bermuda. If one operation can run that smoothly, efficiently, cleanly, with such positive attitude and response, all while turning a profit, what can we learn from it? We’ve got the weather, the natural beauty, the charm … all the potential to make Bermuda ‘the happiest place on earth’ if we want to.

So let’s.

‘Have a magical day!’

Julia Pitt is a trained success coach and certified NLP practitioner on the team at Benedict Associates. For further information contact Julia on (441) 705-7488, www.juliapittcoaching.com.