A Remembering of Magic

What if magic is real, and we've just forgotten how to see it?

I remember as a child being completely fascinated by the magic around me. I used my sensitivities as superpowers. I would place my hands on trees and feel them speak. I would imagine glitter in the sky everywhere I went. I could see the colors of people’s auras outlining them. I would watch movies about faraway fairytale lands on an endless loop and get lost in books filled with the stories I sought. There was magic everywhere, and I was so tuned into it.

Somewhere along the way, I began to lose that sense. I got caught up in the reality of life and began to believe that was all there was.

That those magic moments were only in my dreams.

That magic wasn’t real.

Once I had my daughter, I felt that belief shift again. I literally saw magic before my eyes. I co-created and then GREW a human in my own body, birthed her through my pelvis and re-birthed myself simultaneously. If that’s not magic, I don’t know what is.

I began to read again, but instead of mystical stories of worlds I know not of, I read about magic in the world I am in. I read about the hidden magic that women held back in the time before organized religion. I read about the magic the original midwives and wise women possessed. I read about the real witches, not the ones we’ve been taught to see as vile and disgusting.

And I remembered.

I remembered that the magic is not outside of me, but deep inside. The magic is in my intuition. In my womb. The magic is everywhere and there is a thread that connects it all.

I am Goddess. Goddess is me.

When we stop listening to the world around us telling us who we should be, what we should do, how we should live, and we get silent. We slow down.

We remember.

A remembering of magic, in a sense. I’m watching the old world within me implode as the new one explodes. But maybe it’s not new, no. I don’t believe it ever was.

It’s old, and ancient, this inner wisdom. It’s what I’ve known before and what I will know again. It’s all of me and none of me all at once.

Do you think the trees can hear me now? Will the colors return to dance all around? Will the sky sparkle and glitter rain down? Will my eyes be opened once again?

I hope so. Because I remember.

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