Magic Is Real!
What a year of meditation has taught me.
Not long after I became certain that the tooth fairy and Santa Claus weren’t real, I decided that I also did not believe in Heaven or Hell, and that “God” meant something different to me… maybe the universe, or some unnamable reasoning. When I got a little older, I firmly believed in… nothing. With the help of my passion for old Woody Allen movies (which were sort of okay to like at the time) I wore this anti-faith-in-anything attitude proudly. I knew that once our bodies die, there is no part of ourselves that live on. I will admit that this conclusion was quite bleak, even though I quietly took comfort in knowing that I didn’t have to deal with infinity. See, nothing scares me like the idea of “infinite time,” except for the idea that I will somehow be around for it.
Still, a lot of the magic and hope in my life seemed to fade.
That is, until last year, when I decided to focus on implementing a meditation practice into my daily life. I had been thinking about it for years but never felt like I had the discipline or knowledge to carry it out. But these days, I was practicing routines and taking solace in the consistency of my schedule. I felt that, if I could tag a 5-minute meditation practice onto my shower routine, it might stick and I could build from there! It was difficult, but as time went on, I became more comfortable sitting down for my meditations. Eventually, I grew my practice from 5 minutes to 10, then 15 then 20. I used different apps and techniques, unsure of where to begin, but certain that the goal right now was consistency, and the rest would come later.
As it became steadier, I began to actually, truly, for real, feel a difference in my day-to-day life. Just slight differences here and there, like I was becoming more patient, more present in the moment… all of those sweet, sweet qualities that are promised after taking up a practice like this.
As the duration of my meditations lengthened, I began to notice a change in my overall perception of the world. I had always been a “nature girl,” (I’ll call it that, instead of “ tree-hugger” – which I totally am, or “hippie,”) but years of living in major metropolitan cities made it hard to maintain my true, well… nature. For the first time since I moved to New York City all those years ago, I had come back to a place where I walked through the trees at Huntington Gardens and saw them differently. They were so alive! So quirky! So wise! It was similar to how I felt all those times when I was tripping on mushrooms, but no drugs necessary. In fact, it was SO similar to mushrooms, the way I saw life and movement in everything around me. Lights, food, patterns, music, suddenly it all seemed to breathe. I would turn upside down and look at the world and try to imagine what it would be like if everything were upside down.
As my boyfriend and I were cooking dinner one night and as our balsamic reduction was simmering, he snagged a sugar cube and tossed it in to add some sweetness. I watched as the beautiful dark purple color from the sauce quickly climbed up the white crystal cube, overtaking it before the sugar cube softened, melted and started to dissolve, and with just a few stirs, became something else entirely.
Suddenly, I believed in a very scientific form of reincarnation, that all things are continually changing, yet still exist in some form.
In general, I began to see magic in the nature of all things.
These days, I sit on the back porch of my childhood home. The house is on stilts, giving off the feeling that you’re among the trees. Trees with big, green and yellow pathos leaves climb up the towering pines, along with palms, ferns and birds of paradise all surrounding the back porch. The porch itself is decorated perfectly with hints of Balinese inspiration, like the beautiful white couch and vibrant colored pillows. The pool is just down the steps, the hot tub is raised up behind it, and water trickles down over the waterfall into the pool below. Beyond the pool area is heavily wooded. These woods used to be my playground. I would run all over my yard, making paths and building forts and playing imagination games, using a stick to clear the spider webs in front of me. Now, the paths are gone, but somewhere in me, I still know these woods like the back of my hand.
I listen and hear crickets. Then I listen more and I hear frogs, and the wind rustling in the trees, and the sound of raccoons making their way through the shrub. I hear birds, or bats, or both. I hear the creak of the bamboo trees rubbing against each other. Life becomes something new to me, as my sense of self humbly steps aside to take in all that is going on around me. There’s music everywhere, and life that I will never be able to fully understand myself, but that exists, all the same as I exist.
Meditation has shown me that a great many things are beyond our comprehension. So much life exists that we will not bear witness to and so much that happens right in front of us, which we will miss.
But if you ever remember to, you should stop and take a closer look, or listen.
You might feel the magic, too.
