The Power of Magic

When my daughter was little, Santa brought her a magic kit. She was so excited about it. We sat down on the floor of my parents’ family room (which probably still had gold shag carpet, impeccably raked) and opened the box. A box of magic!

We pulled everything out and I said, “Let’s see what the instructions say.”

I saw her face fall. It wasn’t a box full of magic after all. It was instructions and adult involvement.

I still feel guilty about shattering her belief in magic. I wish I could go back and say something to make it right. Something like, “There is definitely magic in the world—Santa simply misunderstood what you asked for.” I wish I would have thought to show her how both real magic and stage magic work.

I love both kinds of magic. My husband and I went to the Magic Lounge in Chicago last Friday. He likes to try to figure out how the tricks are done. I prefer to be astounded. And magic, either kind, should astound.

Years ago, I was out with my friend Jean. From seemingly out of nowhere I started talking about my old buddy JR. I finished my anecdotes saying, “I wonder what that old JR is up to!” I went home, dug around online, found him, and sent him a message. It felt so out of the blue. I wasn’t even sure he would remember me since I hadn’t seen him in over twenty years.

It turned out that JR had been looking for people who had been in Estes Park during the summer when a horrible flood killed close to 150 people. At that time, that’s where I lived. In a sense, he conjured my email to him.

When my husband and I were looking to move out of Oak Park, we were originally looking in a city called Huntley. We had settled on a subdivision and a builder and were in the process of designing our house. While driving in the area, I kept seeing billboards that said, “Bigger Is Better!” I didn’t pay them any mind.

Around the same time, I went to get my hair done, but my regular stylist, Petra, was sick. I was chatting with the woman filling in for Petra, telling her how we were planning to move to Huntley. Even though Huntley is fifty miles away from the salon, that stylist lived in the exact subdivision we were looking at. She said, “Don’t move there! Move to Crystal Lake.”

The next time I saw the Bigger Is Better billboard, I noticed it was for a neighborhood in Crystal Lake. With the same builder we were working with. I drove over to look. There was one house available. The very model house we were designing. With all the upgrades we had chosen. On a much bigger lot. For a lot less than we were going to be paying in Huntley.

That’s magic.

I have a top hat full of stories like that. Hearing from a friend I hadn’t spoken to in over twenty years after seeing a photo of him the week before. Being magically unscathed from car accidents that should have killed me. Having jobs, jobs I was sure I wasn’t qualified for, even jobs I never applied for, fall into my lap. Books that had the information I needed appear. Teachers. Healers. Friends.

The secret is in believing that powerful magic swirls around you. In knowing that you can conjure, that you can co-create with the Universe. In never giving up on the childlike wonder that allows the magic to be real.

The Rest of the Story

Earlier this week I got together (virtually) with my friend Lindsay. She’s a medium. We sometimes swap gifts—I clear her energy, she tries to contact my dead relatives, but none of my ancestors ever come through. It’s always a message for someone else.

She said a woman was coming through, a grandmother or an aunt or a grandmother’s sister—there was a sisterly energy to her. She was a homemaker, wearing an apron. She had had a long life and died peacefully of old age. She said thank you. She also mentioned Heather, who had been struggling. This woman said she’d use roses as her sign that she was with the people she loved who were still living, especially Heather (“Who’s Heather?” Lindsay asked. “I don’t know a Heather,” I said.) who had been struggling, so watch for roses.

“She says, ‘I’m doing great up here!’” Lindsay reported… “And her name is Jane… or June.”

Do you remember my blog post from last week? Last week I wrote about June’s memorial service.

P.S. Lindsay does not subscribe to my newsletter. She doesn’t read my blog. I hadn’t talked to her in a few weeks, so she did not know about June’s service.

We create connections in our time on earth that last even after death.

We continue to love someone after they die, and they continue to love and care for us. We create ties that are not easy to break. Even after we’ve fulfilled our soul contract with a person, after we’ve learned the lesson they had to teach us (and us them), we can continue to travel in the same soul circles.

It’s kind of like staying in the same area as your extended family. We enjoy spending time with the people we love. Sure, we can text or call, but that’s not the same as hanging out. A video chat can never replace being in the presence of our family and friends, hanging out, sharing a meal, giving a hug.

June told Lindsay that she would continue to pass messages through me. I can’t wait to see what she has to say next.

Do these sorts of stories give you chills and goosebumps? Do they make you roll your eyes? Do they give you a sense of wonder or excitement? I’d love to hear your ghost stories.

Grief

Last week I attended the memorial service for the mother of one of my best friends. I couldn’t make it to June’s funeral mass, but the impromptu speeches at the reception following it were a tribute to how much she cared for others—and how much others cared for her.

Two days later, I found out that a friend of mine, Tim, had died. I hadn’t seen him in years. His life had spun out of control which so many times leads to alienation from people who were once close.

I pulled these two cards this morning as my cards of the day. Together, the Hermit and the Hanged Man remind me to go within to find a new perspective.

We think of grief as an emotion that begins when life ends. But for both June and Tim, their loved ones started grieving long before their deaths. June suffered from dementia for years. Or perhaps I shouldn’t say she suffered; she was always cheerful. It was her family members who suffered. And as Tim became increasingly isolated, his family and friends suffered the loss of his full presence as well.

Grief is wily. It’s sneaky. It doesn’t always show up when it’s expected. It can hide behind anger or guilt or even shame. It makes us forgetful and clumsy. Grief batters the immune system and can increase our blood pressure. It leaves us depleted and yet unable to sleep. It can hit us on every level: emotional, of course, but also physical and spiritual.

And we grieve all sorts of deaths. Break-ups. Moves. Job changes. Children moving out of the house. Chronic illness, alcohol or substance abuse that change a friend into someone we no longer recognize.

People who experience a loss probably get tired of others telling them to be gentle with themselves. But it’s true. We need to recognize that we’re grieving and that the anxiety or inability to concentrate, the loss of appetite or desire to do anything, are all signs that we’re mourning. We may cry. Or we might not.

Everyone grieves in their own way.

And in their own time.

The feelings of loss never go away, but they do eventually change into something less raw.

I feel it’s important for me to recognize my own feelings of fragility when someone I know experiences the death of a loved one. I try to take a step back and realign myself with my heart and my purpose. I remind myself that we’re all connected and that my friend’s loss is my loss. I hope I can extend sympathy, compassion, and empathy to them. But I also hope I can tap into what emotions it brings up in me and lead me to contemplation and a new perspective.

Bananas

Bananas, bananas, and more bananas. I’m seeing them everywhere. On TV, watching the Property Brothers, Queer Eye and Atypical. On shirts. In the comics. In Ask Amy. They came up while I was working with a client and I could taste banana cream pie. Louis Prima was singing about bananas, great big bananas…

Spirit is trying to get my attention, but I can’t decipher the message. Do I need more tryptophan? Or am I acting a little bananas?

I’ve written before about developing a lexicon with your guides and angels. This is important so that they can send you messages that you can interpret quickly and easily. For me, monarch butterflies mean I need to make a significant change. Crows remind me to remember the magic in life. The number 777 means things are unfolding exactly as they should.

But bananas? They hardly seem like the most spiritual fruit.

It seems the joke is on me.

A few years ago, when monarch butterflies were coming to be like bananas are now, I also saw a car with a vanity license plate, BALCER. I saw it every time I left the house. Sometimes twice.

I finally googled it. Balcer is a form of Baltazar. Baltazar was one of the three magi who, according to legend, visited Jesus’s birth. A king. Like a monarch, like the butterfly. The Universe likes to hammer things home for me.

Why didn’t I think to google the spiritual meaning of bananas before? The scientific name for bananas is musa sapientum, which means…

Fruit of the wise men.

Just as monarch butterflies symbolize transformation, perhaps the banana message is about change as well. A reminder to be wise and to handle people gently so that I don’t bruise anyone’s heart. Or maybe a nudge in the other direction—to not be so fragile, so easily bruised myself.

We can gain great insight when we go within, when we meditate or spend time in quiet contemplation. Meditation strengthens our connection to the Divine. For as much as I wish I could spend all day meditating (who’s with me?), I came, we came, to have experiences in the outer world.

We can ask to receive messages from Sprit through all our senses, what are called the “clairs.”

  • Clairvoyance is the gift of second sight
  • Clairaudience is hearing messages
  • Clairsentience is feeling, a strong empathy
  • Clairalience is smell, like smelling the perfume of a dead loved one
  • Clairgustance is taste, like that banana cream pie I mentioned
  • Claircognizance is a clear knowing of things we have no practical knowledge of

And don’t forget the seventh sense, the sense of humor. Bananas, indeed.

I’m Average

I’m average. Of course I am. The overwhelming majority of us are. That’s why it’s “average.”

I have one of those faces that looks like someone’s fourth-grade teacher, or their sister-in-law’s cousin. No one ever remembers what color eyes I have.

We all want to know that we fit in, that we’re not too tall or heavy or loud or quirky. We want to look and act enough like the next person to blend in. We want to feel our actions and our reactions are in line with everyone else’s.

A large part of this is biology. We had to fit in or be cast out, and we wouldn’t have survived without the group.

Naturally there are those who want to be the fastest or strongest or able to eat the most hot dogs in ten minutes. That’s what the Olympic games and the Guinness Book of Records are for.

But, by and large, we’re all pretty vanilla.

And yet.

And yet we are somehow all unique. Like the stars in the sky and the grains of sand on the beach, we seem the same until examined up close. In an intimate relationship we are able to see what makes another special. We’re attracted to their unique blend of personality traits. And they enjoy our distinctive mix of characteristics.

For many of us, our children share the same set of parents and yet they are individuals. We share things in common with our friends such as values, sense of humor, perhaps a similar upbringing or education, but they’re not interchangeable. We are individuals and yet we belong.

If you’re reading this, it’s because you know you have a magical spark. You have a unique purpose in this life, something only you can do in the way you do it. I’m not the only person who clears energy, or reads tarot cards, or communicates with spirit guides, angels, and dead people. But I’m the only one who does it my way. And you’re the only one who does whatever it is you do your way.

How can you nurture that spark, that magic?

  1. Accept compliments with grace
  2. Give and receive love freely
  3. Make a list of things you like to do
  4. Make another list of qualities you like about yourself (and “my penmanship” is not allowed on the list)
  5. Decorate your home in a way that expresses who you are
  6. Be a part of a larger community. Volunteer. Mentor. Share your unique gift

And here’s the secret sauce: When you order something online, send it to yourself as a gift and attach a love note. 

P.S. Why does vanilla get a bad rap? Is it because it’s ubiquitous? Vanilla is delicious. The beans are expensive. I love vanilla..

New Moon in Virgo

Virgo is known for its attention to details, maybe even being overly concerned with them. Its energy can feel nit-picky and perfectionistic. But it likes to keep things pure. It wants to understand the essence of things. So when you’re looking to re-evaluate and reorganize with this new moon, do it in a way that will inspire you. Organize your closet so that you want to put together new outfits. Rearrange your kitchen so you want to cook more often. You get the picture.

Failure is not the opposite of success

We’ve all heard that we should learn from our mistakes; that we should fail forward.

Easier said than done, right? Why is it so difficult to not feel like our failures define us more than our successes?

Reshma Saujani gave a TED Talk about the evidence suggesting that girls are socialized to be perfect. This makes them less likely to take chances if they think they might fail. According to Saujani, it’s the reason there are so few women who code.

Coding requires a certain amount of bravery, a willingness to try and fail and try again. But when we’re afraid to fail we give up after one attempt. Or we don’t even make that one attempt.

Having been socialized to be perfect, we feel if we can’t do something like a boss right out of the gate, we don’t want to do it, even if it’s something inconsequential.

There have been times when I’m working with someone and her guides will tell me she needs to sing. Loudly. I’ll relay the message and I always hear, “I can’t sing!”

So what. The guides didn’t say to go get a recording contract. Sing in the car with the windows up. Sing when you’re home alone. Belt out some Robert Palmer in the woods when you’re out running. Make a loud and joyful noise whether or not it’s in key.

I love Sara Walka of The Sisters Enchanted. She has a six-figure business, well on its way to seven figures, while raising two small children. She says if you’re looking for blog posts and worksheets without typos, you’ve come to the wrong place.

Shouldn’t getting the message out be more important than wasting time on a comma versus a semi-colon?

Reshma Saujani wrote a book called Brave, Not Perfect. Fear less. Fail more. Live bolder.

What would you do if you knew you couldn’t fail? Steal George Clooney away from his wife? Rob the Denver mint? Run for president? Eat an entire key lime pie?

It’s all in how we define failure.

Failure is not the opposite of success; it is a part of it.

And what is failure typically? Frustration? Slight embarrassment? A bit of chagrin? A mild humbling?

I started doing Facebook Lives this week, pulling a card for the Morning Glory Facebook group, doing a mini-clearing for the group and leading a simple grounding exercise or two. (I wasn’t a success right out of the box in terms of figuring out the technology. And that’s ok.) We’ve had a stalker card from the Energy Oracle deck, Playing It Safe. It’s about being in a situation that is adequate but missing out on something more exciting; limiting our joy because we’re reluctant to take a risk.

In Alice in Wonderland, the Queen of Hearts says, “Why, sometimes I’ve believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast.”

This week, why not make your motto, “I’ll do as many as six impossible things before breakfast.”

Or maybe just one thing that is possible but might be a little scary.

Moderation in all things… including moderation

I asked my deck which card I should blog about this week. I should have known better.

Temperance.

Two weeks ago, I had a session with a woman, Shantel Leigh, who does shamanic healing. In my line of work, it’s important to keep your energy in balance.

When I clear someone’s energy, I also get a mini-clearing. But clearing out too much too fast feels like a purge. It’s unpleasant rather than gentle; the emotional equivalent of Drano. Add to that the Lion’s Gate Portal we just had with the new moon back on the eighth and, well…

My sincere apologies to anyone who feels dealing with me was like reaching into a burlap sack and pulling out a rattle snake.

What did Shantel have to say? Nurture the inner child who’s never come out before. Allow my masculine side to integrate with the Divine Feminine within. Give myself an entire self-care day. Get into nature. Find the humor in life, lighten up. Detox. (I’m talking to you, sugar)

In other words, Temperance.

How do we get so out of balance?

We tip the scales when we put our focus on one thing, whether it’s work, our children, checking off the to-do list that doesn’t have self-care on it, or even spirituality.

Too much spirituality? Is there such a thing? I believe there is. We lose our sense of grounding when we constantly seek to have mystical experiences, when we spend too much time studying the magical, when we meditate for two hours a day. Our spirits came here to have an earthly experience. If we didn’t want to live in human form, we would not have chosen to be born.

Balance and temperance lead to alchemy. How can we create a purposeful blend that nourishes wholeness?

  1. Make sure you are on your agenda. What can you do to nurture yourself every day?
  2. Get grounded at least once a day. Go outside and put your feet in the grass or dirt. Be in your body by taking deep rhythmic breaths for a minute (get an app to remind you if you don’t already have one).
  3. Give yourself a bedtime and respect it.
  4. Eat properly which means both nutritiously and giving your inner child a small treat.
  5. Connect with a friend. We have so many ways to do this and it only takes five or ten minutes a day.

Make technology work for you. Set reminders on your phone. I knew someone who even set alarms to eat and get to the bathroom because he’d get wrapped up in something and lose track of time.

Easy, right? Stay away from all-or-nothing thinking. Take care of yourself and others. Do something to get grounded, but don’t forget to meditate. Live in the world of dreams and the world of waking. Eat with adult sensibilities without completely denying yourself little treats. Maintain a relationship with those you love—including yourself. Foster a dynamic flow through equilibrium.

And call in a professional when you need to. Even if you’re a professional yourself.

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