Marinating In Magic

When you’re touched by magic, nothing’s ever quite the same again. What really makes me sad is all those people who never have the chance to know that touch. They’re too busy, or they just don’t hold with make-believe, so they shut the door without really knowing it was there to be opened in the first place.

~CHARLES DE LINT, What the Mouse Found and Other 

I don’t think it’s a secret to anyone that I believe in magic. 

That I have a facility for “holding the make-believe”.

That I live most days steeped in my overly vivid imagination. Now, that being said, it doesn’t mean I don’t like to test magic which I do with nauseating frequency. It’s called discernment, and if you are a friend of mine or you live with me—you frequently have to fasten your seatbelt because, when you goad magic? 

MAGIC SHOWS UP!

Case in point:

I’ve recently become obsessed with manifesting, which, if you think about it is just magic we’ve all agreed is real. 

You know, first, there’s the desire—then there’s the waiting period—and then, as if out of thin air—it shows up—Magic! 

Anyway, I’m interested in the in-between part. The waiting. The span of time where the money isn’t quite in the bank yet. The days, weeks or months between wanting a new lover—and seeing him lying naked and unashamed—in your bed. 

In my quest, I’ve been taunting magic to show me more of the process. “Show me the energy dynamics behind getting an idea—and making to real!” I yell into the void…

Often, on the free-range, off-leash hike with Ruby, we meet up with a woman I will call writer lady (because we only know the names of the dogs) and her dog Betty. Betty is a scruffy faced mutt who thinks she’s a show dog, finicky, ill-tempered and not at all interested in being seen with the likes of Ruby. 

Yesterday, when we walked with Betty and writer lady, Betty yapped incessantly and nipped at Ruby’s Achilles while writer lady wove a tale of terror about her experiences as an actor and writer in Hollywood. 

Gee, I’ve never heard that one…

Just at the point where I thought my ears might bleed, writer lady suddenly became exuberant, pointing to a knee-high, scraggly looking plant to our left.  

“Look, a sunflower!” she managed to fit in-between complaints. 

“Really?” I asked. “Are you sure?” I didn’t mean to be a Doubting Debbie but I’d never seen a sunflower on the hike before and I think I would have remembered because I’m unusually observant and I have a thing for wildflowers.  

“Yeah, I usually see one or two, a result of the birds you know.” 

Still unconvinced, I played along. 

“Will it live?” I asked, looking at the dry soil. 

“Oh, yeah! Sure!” she replied with a sense of optimism I wished she could transfer to an IV drip and infuse straight into her career. “It will get a lot taller and then, in about a month, it should bloom.” 

She was a horticulturist at heart—obviously.

“Huh.” was my profound response. 

Today as we were walking, I blocked out her depressing stories and went to my magic place. Literally.

I started thinking about the manifesting experiments I’d been doing while my hubby and I played cards on the weekends. Cards are easy for me since I literally give no fucks about winning. The object of the game, in a nutshell, is to collect three of a kind or a straight—and on Sunday I had two magical experiences that blew my mind!

I’ve always been told the key to manifesting is ”Keep it light.”

No striving. No begging. No bargaining. No kidding. 

Just ask for something with words like ”Wouldn’t it be great if I picked an Ace,” or “A three of clubs would be delicious right about now.”  You know, easy, peasy, Parcheesi. 

“Oh! Ruby’s pooping!” writer lady exclaimed with the same enthusiasm I reserve for animals shitting on the toilet. That pulled me out of my day dream and it also meant I had to carry a bag of dog shit for the rest of the hike, about 2.5 miles. 

I hate that. I make a point of carrying NOTHING of my own so that I can walk, free and unencumbered and then she poops and I’m Queen Elizabeth with the ever present blue plastic “purse” on a hike.

Ruby, feeling instantly free, unencumbered, and ten pounds lighter took off running toward the silhouette of a woman walking toward us, apparently without a dog. 

Ruby finds that suspect. She always has. 

People on hikes without dogs is an abomination as far as she’s concerned. Assuming they must be lost, she’s only too happy to find them by frantically searching in the bushes and under large rocks.   

“God, wouldn’t it be great if someone came along and collected our poop bags?”  I said to writer lady, not kidding at all.

Walking toward the dog-less woman who was grinning from ear to ear because she didn’t have to carry a bag of shit for two miles, I apologized for Ruby who was fixated on her fanny pack like a bomb-sniffing dog at the Tel Aviv airport.

Ruby’s law—any human wearing a fanny pack, with or without a canine—has treats.

“Hey, no problem,” she said, petting Ruby’s ears like a bona fide dog person, “Why don’t you give me that?” she motioned toward the bright blue plastic poo-poo bag.

“You…mean…this?” I stammered, trying my best not to shit my own pants.

“Sure“ she chirped, “I collect all the dropped and discarded ones and throw ‘em in the dumpster.” She held up a large garbage bag I hadn’t noticed until that moment.

“Huh,” I responded, after realizing I’d blown one of my three magic wishes on a bag of shit. 

Then I practically genuflected and kissed her ring with gratitude.

Our enthusiasm restored, Ruby and I took off on the rest of the hike while the Poop Saint, Betty, and writer lady decided to walk back to the dumpster together.

The minute they were out of sight I yelled at magic in my outside voice, “Oh, my Gawd you’re such a show-off!” 

Then I remembered Sunday, the cards, and the time slippage. 

“A ten would be splendid,” I’d asked, after noticing a pair of tens. Remember, I needed three of a kind.
My husband picked a card and discarded a Queen. I looked back at my own hand, suddenly, out of the seven cards there were now three tens!

How could that be? 

I picked a card and looked again. Now, only a pair of tens stared back at me. What the fuck?  But the card I picked was a ten! NOW I had three tens!

My heart was running a marathon in my chest but I didn’t say anything. I’d been messing around for weeks, asking for a certain cards, very specific cards, and the results had been nothing short of remarkable (you can ask my husband) but I’d never seen the cards change in my hand! 

It was probably a fluke, so I asked magic to show me again.

The next game, I asked for an ace of spades to complete a straight. “An ace of spades would be delicious,” I said to myself as I picked a card. It was a Jack, which I discarded, but when I looked back at my hand I saw the ace of spades right there with the two and the three! 

Wait, what?

Now, I know what y’all are thinking, “Janet, you have got to stop that day drinkin’!” But I can swear to you that I was stone cold sober. 

I touched the ace with my thumb to prove to myself it was real, nevertheless, when I picked a card and looked again—it was gone, back to some other card.  My face got hot and I started to sweat but I kept it on the down-lo, watching and waiting for what would happen next and you guessed it— the next card my husband put down was the ace of spades! That’s when I almost threw up.

It was like the universe was giving me a “preview of coming attractions”.  Hey, I’m the one who wanted to see what happened in the void and you know what? MAGIC SHOWED UP!

Today, toward the end of the hike, I thought about the sunflower. Was it really a sunflower? Had we passed it? A few minutes later the bright yellow petals caught my eye. There was the sunflower standing waist high and in full bloom! How could that have happened in a day? I screamed inside my head as Ruby danced around me, happy as a clam with her chewed-up tennis ball. This was the part where I just about shit all over my Lulu Lemon.

Just to prove it to myself I took the picture above. I can’t wait to go back tomorrow and see if it’s still there. 

Below are some quotes about Magic that I love. I’m starting to believe that the more we marinate in it— the more it shows up for us.

Stay tuned & Carry on,
xox

I would not want to live in a world without dragons, as I would not want to live in a world without magic, for that is a world without mystery, and that is a world without faith. ~R. A. SALVATORE, Streams of Silver

Those who don’t believe in magic will never find it. ~ROALD DAHL, The Missing Golden Ticket and Other Splendiferous Secrets

Scientists have calculated that the chances of something so patently absurd actually existing are millions to one. But magicians have calculated that million-to-one chances crop up nine times out of ten. ~TERRY PRATCHETT, Mort

The universe is full of magical things patiently waiting for our wits to grow sharper. ~EDEN PHILLPOTTS, A Shadow Passes

A little magic can take you a long way. ~ROALD DAHL, James and the Giant Peach

Books are a uniquely portable magic. ~STEPHEN KING, On Writing

If you choose magic you will never be able to return to the life you once lived. Your world may be more … exciting … but it will also be more dangerous. Less reliable. And once you begin to walk the path of magic, you can never step off of it. ~NEIL GAIMAN, The Books of Magic: The Road to Nowhere

And above all, watch with glittering eyes the whole world around you because the greatest secrets are always hidden in the most unlikely places. Those who don’t believe in magic will never find it. ~ROALD DAHL, The Minpins

I don’t want realism. I want magic! ~ TENNESSEE WILLIAMS, A Streetcar Named Desire