In Search of Magic
Turns out, it's everywhere.
The other day, my partner asked me a very serious question.
“How many rocks are you going to put in your bra for the marathon?”
By rocks, he means crystals, as in stones assigned certain metaphysical properties based on their colors, vibrations, or lore.
To be clear, I do not place stones in my undergarments on an everyday basis. (Though I don’t think there would be anything wrong if I did.) Once upon a time, there was a fateful fitness class where a rogue agate dove out of my tank top and skittered across the floor, causing the instructor to shout. I still haven’t lived it down.
I doubt I’ll tote any stones with me for the race. It’s a long way and I’m trying to travel light. But I hope that magic — that elusive, inexplicable copilot — is still with me every step of the way.
(“You’re really not going to bring any?” he asked, again, while proofreading this newsletter. I relented that I may or may not bring a carnelian pebble no bigger than my thumbnail, as this stone was once carried by ancient warriors to help provide bravery and endurance.)
As most crystal enthusiasts will tell you, it’s not that the rock itself carries some inherent power, as much as the intention it’s imbued with. The magic comes from you.
This week marks the beginning of Samhain, Irish Gaelic for “summer’s end.” In the Pagan tradition, this is the time when the veil between the worlds grows thin, offering the physical and spirit realms a chance to intermingle.
November 1st ushers in the start of Día de los Muertos, the two-day holiday originating in Mexico, where families create offerings to honor, mourn, and celebrate the legacies of departed loved ones.
Over the past few weeks, as Halloween has drawn near, it has felt like the air is sprinkled with magic. I don’t mean magic in the fantastical sense, nor as sleight of hand. I mean, simply, the willingness to suspend one’s disbelief. To break with the humdrum shape of everyday living in favor of something new.
The subway is packed with people in costumes. The sidewalks are dotted with trick-or-treaters. Decorations — from the amusing to the macabre — transform the neighborhood into a walkable residential funhouse.
As a practice, magic gets a bad rap. It is often painted as the antithesis of science, standing squarely at the intersection of hocus pocus and woo woo. But once upon a time, much of modern medicine seemed like magic. Along with the laws of physics. And don’t get me started on outer space. As I see it, magic and science are not mutually exclusive. So much of our knowledge (and thus our belief systems) boils down to a particular moment in history.
“Magic” is so wide and all-encompassing that it cannot be encapsulated. It can mean anything from
Mental fortitude? Magic.
The fact that you are reading my words, right now, from wherever you may be? Magic.
We are willing to place our belief in all sorts of things. Celebrities. The stock market. TV shows with completely implausible plot twists. (The Watcher, I’m looking at you.) So is it a bridge too far to suggest there might be unseen forces, undiscovered entities, as-yet-unexplained systems at play?
What if magic is simply anything with the power to enhance our lives, in exchange for our belief in it?
Some years ago, I wandered into a tiny rock shop in Southern California. It was packed from floor to ceiling with stones of every shape, size, and color. The most magnificent specimen in the store wasn’t a crystal, but the proprietor, who perched behind the counter vibrating louder than the array of singing bowls behind him.
He was intimately acquainted with every piece that was for sale, regarding each as one would an old friend.
“Oh, that labradorite!” he called out, as I scanned a shelf. “She’s got quite the energy!”
“Look out for that one! Not for the faint of heart.”
“You’ve gotta experience this charoite,” he said, pressing a small purple stone into my palm. He waited for a reaction. I raised my eyebrows, more out of anticipation than alarm. “Isn’t that amazing?”
If there was a vibration, I wasn’t sensitive enough to notice. But his excitement more than made up for it.
“How did you get into this?” I asked, a question I always pose to anyone who seems to have bridged the gap between love and labor.
“Well, I used to be an engineer. But when I first moved to this neighborhood, I felt inexplicably drawn to the rocks,” he said. “I wandered into the shop one day and discovered that when I touched them, they gave me messages. It’s like I could hear them talking. They tell me where they come from, and who they are meant for.”
He said this without a hint of irony.
“As it turned out, the owner was considering selling the shop, so I bought it. That was over a decade ago, and I haven’t looked back since.”
As with most things in life, if one wanted to pass judgment about this experience — this person, this shop, this series of life choices — it would be easy to do so. But all I found was admiration. (And maybe a touch of jealousy for this person who was loving life on a gorgeous stretch of coastline.)
What I saw was someone who was deeply engaged with living, doing something they were passionate about, and sharing that excitement with others. There are far worse fates.
To me, that is magic. Not the rocks, nor the beliefs behind them. But the willingness to dive head first into whatever you believe, especially if it enhances your life and doesn’t harm anyone in the process.
Though we shared all of twenty minutes together, I think about him often. It is my fervent wish that whether it be through rocks or books or cakes or kids (or, hell, by tax law if that’s your thing) we might all have a brush with that kind of enchantment.
Card of the Week
Here is this week’s card for the collective, as well as some thoughts to carry into the days ahead. As most modern readers will tell you, the tarot is not about fortunetelling, nor is it about neat, definitive answers. The cards are simply one path to reflection, a way of better knowing ourselves and others through universal themes. If this reading resonates with you, great! And if not, no worries. Take whatever may be helpful and leave the rest.
On the surface, The Magician seems to be the card about magic. Or The High Priestess, with her book of secrets. But if you dig deep, I think The Hermit is the most magical card in the deck.
The Hermit is typically not a fan favorite, calling to mind a lonely quest. Traditional depictions show a Gandalf-esque character holding a lantern. Even introverts are skeptical. How long is this journey? Is it arduous? Is it boring? Can we bring our phones?
The Hermit knows there are some discoveries we can only make for ourselves. No one else can tell us what makes us, what moves us, what brings us alive. Even if we’ve done our fair share of soul-searching, it is good to check in with ourselves from time to time, like a catch-up call with an old friend.
You don’t have to make like Cheryl Strayed in Wild — a Hermit moment if ever I’ve seen one — to find your own breed of being. (Though if a similar adventure calls to you, by all means, pursue it.)
This card wishes to remind us that retreats can take any form. An hour without our screens, perhaps. A solo trip to the park. A morning spent with a favorite book. An hourlong yoga class.
Outwardly, we can go together, but inwardly, we must go alone.
Alone, with our own company.
The Hermit isn’t a flashy card, and neither are its lessons. But magic doesn’t have to be about wielding a wand or lighting a flame or chanting an incantation. Just as often, it’s about discovering the wonder that is hidden in plain sight.
As Roald Dahl once wrote, “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.”
The Hermit wants you to uncover what resonates with you (and only you). Other people’s judgments, feedback, opinions, and preferences need not apply.
What do you believe? What moves you? What inspires you? What gives your days meaning?
The Hermit knows that the most resonant answers are those that live within you. It’s a place of endless discovery, if only you are willing to look. Don’t be afraid to seek for answers. Who knows what you’ll find?
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That Roald Dahl quote is a favorite. I have a friend who recently gave me some citrine and some flourite. They sit on my desk at work and I pop them in my pocket when I need a boast. Your trip to the store does indeed sound enchanting. Hoping for a little magic to come my way this week, but maybe as you say I just gotta show up and believe.
I love that Roald Dahl quote. Your newsletter is magic. Always a treat! Thank you for sharing your beautiful writing.