I’ve always believed in magic. As a kid, I was drawn to stories and movies that involved what the collective identifies as ‘fantasy’. Lord of the Rings was my jam in middle school, I was convinced that my letter from Hogwarts would arrive at any minute, and I felt a deep sense of connection to every version of the Merlin story I saw on T.V. My overactive imagination would have me act out scenarios in my room where my ability to save the world came down to my latent magical powers. I just needed to wait for them. Little did I know that these childhood interests were actually my soul telling me that I am a magical person. So often we ignore our innate gifts that are scattered across our childhood and turn them in for a more acceptable, watered-down version of what the world wants from us during the tumult of our teenage years. My magic, my weird, has always existed; yet, I’m just remembering this in my thirties after fighting for so long to hide and forget.
Since the cool teen years, my understanding of what magic is has shifted. Magic happens every day. The magic in movies and books- one of alchemy, sorcery, and incantations that breathe new life into things- is not the magic that I have found in the world. Instead, the magic I know to be true is more subtle and mundane. The magic I have witnessed happens in those moments of “coincidence,” the interconnectedness of you and someone who you are thinking about when they contact you at that very moment. Or, it happens in the ability to shape our own desires and the necessary follow-through actions that we take in order to fulfill those desires- whether that is a career choice, the pursuit of a family, or a sense of adventure. The idea to do these things authentically is a spark, a magical flicker within. Magic is that feeling that happens when things just work out. But, most importantly, the magic I know to be true has come in the form of my inner knowing; the voice that exists when I let her, by tuning the rest of the world out. The secret to discovering my magic was found in stillness. I only sought stillness out after tragedy and trauma filled me to the brim, during the shocking realization in my twenties that the way the world operated was not the way that I operated.
Stillness, meditation, yoga, and breathing are what make magic possible in my life. However, this could and can look different for you. Folks tell me that running, cooking, and walking are meditative experiences to them. And I encourage you to expand your understanding of what it means to be quiet- you do not have to be a tantric monk. To be quiet and to hear yourself, truly hear what you know to be true, is the most magical experience we as humans can create space for. We are all gifted a voice that tells us when things are right and wrong; sometimes she nudges us towards our true north. Sometimes, she lets us know to turn around and find another direction. Sometimes she tells us things we had no other way of knowing.
Unfortunately, it is almost too easy to disconnect from our inner voice. We are clouded by the decisions and expectations of others; bombarded with consistent, daily, and weaponized messages of what we need, how to make ourselves better, and what others do in order to change their lives. Social media has only exacerbated these messages to the point where it seems like we can never find quiet. It is so darn loud out here. This loudness is attached to us, in our pockets, and our eyes are glued. All of this noise numbs us to our magic. I have found that the only way to connect with myself, to feel the power and magic of who I am, has been forcing myself to disconnect and sit. To be still, even when I don’t want to. Not because it is easy or convenient, but because it is important. This requires discipline AND flexibility. Some days, all I can give myself is five minutes, other days I want a luxurious hour. Every day when I get quiet it is different. But every time I hear myself clearly, I know in my heart that magic exists.
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