About Magick

I need to write a blog post about Magick. A dragonfly told me so.

I need to write it for myself, but maybe you need it too.

I often doubt that magick exists, in the ordinary.

In that state of doubt, I feel resentful that I am not living an extra-ordinary life. I tell myself that I am missing out.

Those thoughts I know are fears. They are simply not true.

I am writing this post as a reminder.

I hope that I will come back to it, many times, every time, I feel the doubt creeping in.

The truth is, I live surrounded by magick. You likely do too, though I can’t know whether that is true – or, even if it is, whether you are willing to allow that truth to be real for you.

To experience true magick we must be vulnerable to life. Its no wonder most of us fail to experience the extra-ordinary, the wonder, the awe-inspiring beauty – the magick of life – most of the time.

I include myself in the ‘most’. Though I’ve always been a secret believer, and an indulgent escapist into the realms of magick, living open to the presence of everyday magick is something I have not quite mastered.

I have in the past few years, in response to heartbreak and other consequences of living heart-wide-open, resisted my knowing and experience of magick, on the every day. I have been living happy, and mostly fulfilled, but not ecstatic.

You may say that if I am happy and mostly fulfilled, that is more than a person can really ask for.

Well, that may be true, but I have experienced more. My heart and soul know that there is more to this life. There is desire. There is passion. There is creation. There is…

Magick.

So I am writing this post as a reminder.

Magick has always been here. I am just often closed to it. I dismiss it. I am unwilling to feel it, and so I do not experience it, even though it is right here beside me; with me; in me.

I have always wanted an oasis. A retreat. A place where I could offer sanctuary not only to myself, but to others – a place where healing could occur.

I am now living in exactly such a place.

We have five acres – four of which are forest which has been untouched for many years. We have abundant blackberries, salmon berries, raspberries, cherry trees, plum trees. This fall, I made my own jam for the first time since I was a little girl. It was good. But more than that, it felt good to create it.

This oasis did not come ready made, and it is not really “ours”: we have had to put sweat and blood into the land to create something special, and, we are renting. I use these facts to discount the magick of the place. It is not exactly how I pictured it so it’s not real, I tell myself.

On some level I am still waiting for the perfection of my vision to arrive on a silver platter.

This is how my mind tricks me into resentment, and keeps me from seeing and from dreaming.

Tonight I was walking out back in the alcove we have created for community gatherings around a fire, and I allowed myself to dream a little.

I saw an archway under the treed canopy. I saw rows upon rows of people we hold dear, and I saw myself, walking arm in arm with my father, out from under the twin cedars on the island further back, over the bridge my lover built with his own two hands, looking up the aisle, between the smiling faces, seeing that same man looking at me like he’s the luckiest man on earth.

To dream is to be vulnerable.

To want your dream to become your reality, even more so.

To dare to pursue it. There is no greater joy, nor heartbreak.

If you know what I’m talking about, then, you are my people.

And, I know, that you know about magick, too.

The truth is: Magick is always right there – here – in the ordinary.

If only we are willing to open our hearts enough to allow it.

Xo,

Danielle