My issue with magic

The concepts of fate and destiny freak me out. I really want to believe, maybe I need to believe, that I have some control over my lot in life, where I’m headed. I’m all in favor of God or some other good-natured higher power walking alongside me, clearing my path. But that my life story is already written and I’m just playing out the script, I loathe that thought.

I suppose I’m a bit of a control freak.

Anyway, Julie talks about magic a lot, magic, and it kind of drives me crazy. She stretches out her arms and wiggles her fingers, literally. She invokes the power of magic to inspire or elicit a good day, good weather, a good time with friends, a great trip, or even a winning moment on a slot machine. This is crazy, right? I clench and resist and refuse, quite childishly I’d say. I’ve consistently held that magic is a wish, an illusion, a de-lusion. It does not exist. But even if it does, magic seems to me a cheap way to get where you want to go. I always say I don’t want my luck that way. I’d rather bank it.

And magic is not a thing anyway, right? I mean, don’t you have to put in the work?

Magic reminds me a lot of fate and destiny. Magic suggests control lies somewhere out there, not in our own hands. I’m not a fan of an external locus of control.

Instead, I think, or I hope, that we can try to manifest things. We can do our best to dive in to a situation with a positive mindset to create space for a good time. But magic, nah, that has nothing to do with any outcome. The little scientist in the back of my mind won’t allow consideration of it.

I’ll also admit that magic, or the idea of it, inspires a little bit of fear in me. Maybe it’s a lack of understanding or open-mindedness on my part. Or confusion: is magic good-natured or dark? I also carry a scarcity mentality much of the time, and if magic is out there, if it actually exists, and comes in limited quantities, I want to use my dose of it very, very sparingly and cautiously.

Case studies on magic

A couple of weeks ago, I was working with a young woman who had been suffering soul-sucking depression. Though she was on a beneficial medication regimen and enjoyed some solid relationships, she just felt awful. Through tears, she told me that she was experiencing suicidal thoughts. She felt trapped and tortured in her life and in her mind.

We talked through her cognition, the way she looks at things. We reviewed her behaviors, the things she does and those she passes on. Turns out, her thinking was sound. And she exercised, slept well, and made sure she was connected with people.

Still, we were talking about the possibility of a higher level of care in that session, maybe an intensive outpatient setting to keep her safe.

The following week, she was unrecognizable walking in the door. To my enormous surprise, she was clearly, obviously upbeat, happy, anything but depressed. She reported waking up the morning before and just feeling… better.

“Honestly, I couldn’t tell you why. It’s just… magic I guess.”

She wasn’t doing anything differently. Her thinking hadn’t changed in any significant manner. But she was suddenly upbeat and optimistic. She was joyful. Is that some shift in brain chemistry? A change in season? An intervention by God? Fate? Or is it magic?

It certainly wasn’t therapy.

That session got me thinking about magic in a more open-minded way, until I woke up at about 3 o’clock the next morning in a cold sweat. This malaise felt familiar. I had experienced this feeling before, in the middle of the night, not that long ago. I was pretty certain I had Covid.

Again.

After a couple of hours trying to get back to sleep, I woke up to my alarm. Once I shook off the cobwebs, I began to symptom scan as one does under these circumstances. Nothing. I felt good. I felt really good. I thought I was going to be down for the count for a week, and instead, I went for a run that morning and worked until pretty late that evening. Throughout, I felt really, really good.

I don’t know, is that magic?

Magic and creativity

When a lyric or a Substack piece or a line for a verse crosses my mind, seemingly out of nowhere, my allergy to magic feels tested. Where did that come from?

But here’s my caveat: I find I have to be in the headspace to allow for that magic to take place. When I’m in the midst of writing a book, and engulfed in that mindset, ideas for chapter titles and paragraphs and pithy phrases are far more likely to pass through my mind, to be captured by my imagination. I need to keep a pen and paper nearby before I lose the inspiration that seems to arrive for me out of thin air.

One night years ago, I woke up in the wake of a lucid dream. I dreamt I was watching vintage Bob Dylan in black and white singing a powerful folk song about Hurricane Katrina and New Orleans. It took me a moment to realize I hadn’t heard that song before, but I remembered every lyric verbatim, and could conjure every chord he played.

I jumped out of bed, grabbed my acoustic guitar out of her case, and transcribed the song I heard in my dream. And it was damn good. And I take no credit for it. I honestly did nothing at all to channel it. It wasn’t an unfinished project I was working on. But there it was in full. When I went to bed a few hours earlier, it didn’t exist at all.

I don’t know, if that’s not magic, I don’t know what it is.

I should note that I was in my brief songwriting era, so my mind was in a creative space around that time. I thought about music and lyrics a lot. I should also note that this was among the most thrilling moments of my life. My rational mind could not explain the magical experience. And that felt amazing.

I think that’s how young kids feel a lot of the time. The awe of the rabbit in the hat, the quarter behind the ear. The world is magical to them, their sense of wonder trumping their skepticism. These days, that youthful view of the world seems all too brief and precious and fragile. I think most of us would far prefer our kids hold that innocent feeling far longer than they do.

Lately, I’ve been wondering if a belief in magic is important. Like, in a world gone sideways in so many ways, can we still find the magic of awe and joy and sweet surprises and connections?

I think we have to try and preserve that, to foster it.

Do I believe in magic?

In The Alchemist, Paolo Coelho famously wrote the following:

“When you want something, all the universe conspires to help you achieve it.”

I’ve always dug that idea. But I personally find it to be incomplete.

Here’s what I find to be far more true:

“When we set an intention with clarity and energy, and we work past the self-doubt and fear around that wish, the universe will conspire with you to achieve that intention.”

To my thinking, there’s definitely some magic in that. But it’s not sleight-of-hand and wholly external. And it requires something of us to make it happen. We need to intend for it to happen, and set our minds and our actions in the direction of that intent. At the very least, we have to be open to the possibility of a magical moment. And I think what appears to be magic comes way more fluidly and efficiently into our lives if we are working in conjunction with it.

Yes, I think this magic thing all comes down to mindset. This is something I think we regularly forget. Keep your mind open to the positive possibilities, and they may just happen. Maybe they become more likely than not. Perhaps you push them past the tipping point. But I think we all know that if we focus on the worst case scenarios, when we are constantly bracing ourselves, which so many of us do so much of the time, we are not manifesting anything remotely close to magic.

In the end, if a belief in magic reflects a little faith in humanity and in ourselves, a sense of awe in life and the universe, that our collective lot can improve, and more joy can be brought into the world, then I’m starting to believe we could use a hell of a lot more of it. And I suppose I don’t care whether you call it magic, or intention, God or fate. Bring it on.

And if you’re a parent, I don’t know if you need your kids to full-on believe in magic. But that life can be big, and possibilities for them may wildly exceed what they envision, I can tell you that’s a hopeful vista this generation desperately needs.

Yeah, Julie tells me magic is real. I’m more and more inclined to believe her.