Thursday, November 20, 2008

It's Magic

Painting by Charles Frizzell

This morning is a perfect time to talk about magic...a word...could use power...could use energy...but magic is a nice the Great the river of love that life flows in.

This morning when I got up, there was no world to see in the blackness of night and heavy cloud-cover. Then a tiny purple line began to appear and silhouette the tree-line. Within just a few minutes, the colours of gold and coral began to paint themselves across the underbellies of puffy, slate-blue clouds.

Folks waking up right now might frown and call it another grey day out there...never seeing or knowing of that magic...because their lives aren't attuned to it...and they did not see it for themselves. That's just the regular daily show that begins magic. The word implies something that delights...that we don't quite understand...either how...or why...but also implies some kind of work.

I'm not an easy believer...and I won't believe in personal power with magic...the doing of spells and such...for that way lies madness of a self-defeating kind. That having been said...I've found the universe's magic to be so very benevolent when humbly asked...or when just being open to have you.

I can't list and sort the voices...but I do know they are there...and the visions. I've learned to trust questioning them going against them sometimes, which was a quick lesson! I think it's about stepping off this wheel of time, to an energy that is not born nor dies. I feel like we DO know where all this comes from...we just don't remember until we're part of it again. I've found one of the major things about this journey is to learn the patience to wait for answers...and a bunch of them aren't going to be in this lifetime.

I would not have believed in shape-shifting and time travel and spirit travel before I experienced it...and I would go mad trying to explain it to myself. I'll be the first one to admit a verdant imagination...but could we have that without an experience inside that lets us? The ability to 'see' grasp feel the passing energies, still in the garden...all this comes together, don't you think?

I've felt myself run and smell as a wolf...not in a dream...awake and aware...I dreamed and saw the picture of the rubble of the World Trade Centre...with those pieces of steel sticking up...two years before it happened...even started to write about it....went back and found the lines afterwards. Voices have always been with me, guides, help...and the knowledge to trust, while always being self-responsible and working for it; trust that what I needed always came, not what I always wanted.

This place of spirit and energy is as real as it gets...the human life is the illusionary finite...otherwise...where would these memories come from? Nothing can be created without the dream. Magic...movement...math...and music...this makes everything. Creation is real and I have an unconditional love of the ride.

I think reading, the arts, stimulation of thought and intent of heart...all open specific doorways within...that lead that everything-is-everthing-strangely-drawn-Escher-perception way. Nothing is linear...which can get very confusing when you humanly, logically want to put ducks in a row!

One thing I firmly that believing in the magic and mystery makes for a survival coping kit of grateful magnitude. Why do some people walk through storms and some fall in a cower?

I love the word serendipity...and I love the phrase "the Great Unconscious" for the infinite (and connected) inner space. If we are willing to fall until we are flying inside with all that ever has been...we find ourselves outside of the ego-self and more able to direct it...more capable of directing currents, instead of just being carried by them. We find ourselves meeting others there.

There's no doubt in my mind that the universe is magical...and we are creatures of that magic...belong to it...walk in service to it.

I touch wood all the time....and feel the negativity drain harmlessly into an energy that eats it. I've felt that same energy from the wood in the fire that heats me. I know a sycamore tree on 69th. Lane in NYC that responds when I think of her. When Grey Wolf comes to visit...I often find Canadian coins in the garden. When I thank the trees, the rocks, the earth, the water...I feel the response of the garden that still wants to be with us.

Of course we are like Crow and Raven; we like shiny things. Remember the story of Raven stealing the light that is our sun...Crow stands for Law...and Raven Magic...perfect metaphors of dark and light. Right on cue (as if by magic) a Great Blue Heron glides past my window, as if to represent the ever-expanding grey areas of age and wisdom.

Outside, the clouds have lowered and weep their essence...while you and I sit by the fire of our knowing and comfortable conversation...magic, no?