Magic springs from within. It's easy to forget this, because we see it reflected around us, so we think that enchantment comes from some external source. But those who spot the most magic in their world are the ones who carry it with them and shine it like a beacon onto the world. For most of this year, I've been playing with a lunar abundance practice. It's sweet and gentle, moving in a yin and yang flow that shifts every few days. At each new moon, I set an intention.
This lunar cycle, my intention is to create a space of magic in my life and my work.
So far, it's a massive fail. Both at making magic and at sitting with and feeling the intention each morning, the most crucial part of the practice. After a hard push toward my new goal of helping writers realize their true potential, I burnt out - both physically and emotionally. One of my steepest learning curves is taking deep and tender care of myself.
Tony Robbins said in an interview that he sits in a quiet space of gratitude and love for five minutes each day - if you don't have five minutes each day, you don't have a life.
After starting a new business while also trying to focus on my own writing - not to mention, wrestling with my beliefs around money, intense couples therapy, and fielding an outbreak of poison oak that had me in the doctor's waiting room yesterday because my face was so puffy I look like a misshapen bobble head doll - I feel like the least magical creature on earth.
So I ignored my intention for awhile. Eh, I said. It's not happening right now and that's okay. Maybe next month, maybe next year, maybe next life. In the meantime, bring me all the drugs. Yes, the hippie lasts until I'm a) in pain or b) have a face like a misshapen bobble head doll and then hello pharmaceuticals! I cannot ingest you fast enough!
Until the next yin phase rolls through and I'm reminded that it's not about doing all the things all the time. It's not about pushing. Sometimes life is best when you take a moment to step back and reflect and notice and gently adjust as necessary. Maybe walking around with a face like a swollen leper for awhile is simply a reminder to slow down and take care of myself.
So I return to my intention. I allow myself to feel magic within and tune my receptors to notice it without, even though everything I can see in my world feels like the exact opposite of magic.
But every good fairytale has a troll, so maybe that's the part I'll play. At least until the medication starts working.