Love letter: Magic

magic

Sense of magic necklace from my word pendant series.

Dear magic,

When I was a child, so much seemed magical.  I thought half-constructed houses were in danger of being destroyed by the big bad wolf.  I believed in Santa Claus.  I found magic in nature as the wind blew through my hair, whispering to me.  My dreams were magical creations, wild and unpredictable.

I kept you in mind throughout the years, even if I became more skeptical, reluctant to believe as strongly.  Yet I kept reading about you in fantasy novels.  Magic, you are in the pages of books with wizards and wands, other lands, powerful beings.  In those books, you are often external, explicit, sometimes even tangible.  In the world I inhabit, you are often more internal and implicit.  My inner world has remained magical in many ways throughout the years, but I longed for you in a way I could touch and feel.

Then I found a community of women who called themselves priestesses; who taught classes about life and healing; performed rituals; taught me about my gifts with energy and empathy.  Now that I have left that community, I miss feeling like I could journey into other dimensions, be a powerful empath, energy mover, community leader.  I miss the feeling part of a movement, that I was magical and nearly unstoppable.  I recognize that I am still some of those things, but my perspective is much different now.  In retrospect, I did find a lot of my own magic there and then, but it was mainly through others’ eyes and with others’ purposeful guidance.  Now, I want to continue to seek and source you in my own way, through my own choices and means.

Magic, I am skeptical when I hear words and phrases like “manifestation,” and “magical [or positive] thinking,” or using you to turn thought into reality by the power of desire alone.  I think you are more than a simple belief or the power of calling in a desire of a dream.  To me, you are the fire in passion, in the playful and curious spirit of a child, in the deciding to get up after falling down. To me, you are energy, you are spirit, you are intuition, you are imagination.

When I am dancing, I sometimes feel you in the space between my hands, vibrating with warmth, and sometimes in the room when the class resonates deeply with the music and the movement. During my Nia White Belt, someone who spoke skeptically of energy and related things sensed me as I moved around her, and she’d never knowingly felt that before. The times I’ve taught, as I took my place at the front of the room, it was like being the wielder of movement magic.

Magic, you require faith and attention to details.  You play a vivid role in my creative life as I draw, paint, and make jewelry.  You are in my love’s smile, in the warmth between us, in the electric sensations that remind me I have a body and am also so much more.

I sense you as I touch trees, the rooted depth of age and wisdom; when I look up at the night sky and see the twinkling stars and the shadows behind a full moon; when I see the refracting light in a crystal.

I think you play a role in helping me keep hope, in finding joy and laughter in small moments.  Sometimes it’s just the edge of light on the horizon that reminds me of you, or something that seems eerily coincidental, and it’s like you’re whispering to me, “I’m still here.”  Magic, I haven’t forgotten you.  I am learning to find you in new ways, and on my own terms.

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