a few months ago

A Return to Magic

I am made of magic.

As are you.

We are magical beings.

The dominant story in the mainstream culture is a story of deadness.

“Things are inert. They are made of smaller inert things. And inside those smaller inert things there’s nothing. And it’s all dead. And when you die, that’s that. And we’ve very nearly understood everything there is to know. We’ve written it all down.”

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No room for magic.

I was taught that magic is for weak-minded idiots. Fools. People who don’t have the strength and intelligence to calculate everything and know it all.

But I was wrong.

There is something in me that has remained magical. No amount of cynicism can harm it.

Magic is love. And love is magic.

And magic says “You can’t think away what is real, what is here.”

My intention is to celebrate magic. My intention is to celebrate the life that we are gifted.

Fully. We are made of and surrounded by mystery. Let us be joyful even though we are afraid.

I have fallen short in that intention. But today I am renewing my commitment.

In my estimation, there exists a force that I’m calling the mainstream death cult. And it is like a hungry ghost that will try to consume everything.

It co-opts everything that is true, and it is insidious. We don’t see what is happening most of the time, but the next thing we know, we’re marching in lock step in the death cult.

So my invitation to us all is that we wake up now. Shake off the hypnosis. And choose life. Choose love. Choose magic.

Choose the collective. Choose us. Choose together. Choose inclusivity.

For me, part of waking up is waking up from narcissism.

The mainstream death cult is narcissistic. It says, “You’re going to become enlightened. You’re going to transcend misery. You’re going to get all the stuff you want.”

Or, conversely, it says, “You’re a piece of shit. You’re a loser. You’r a fraud. You’re going to be found out. You’re going to suffer.”

It’s all about you, you, you. Me, me, me.

Which is a big clue: it’s time to wake up.

My life is not all about me. My “enlightenment” is not all about me. Spirituality has become highly narcissistic.

My life is part of the whole life. I exist in a long, unbroken ancestral field. My life is that life. That life is my life. And my life is in service to this life.

It is reciprocal. We do not exist alone. We truly are all connected.

My “enlightenment” is meaningless, empty, and worthless – not to mention deluded – if I believe it protects me from the pain and responsibility of connection and love.

I am enlightened to the extent that I welcome all that is in shadow as well as that which is in light and to the extent that I am willing to say yes to it all. Yes to love. In all its forms. Including the “ugliest”, most base, most primitive, most human, most selfish-seeming forms.

Because sometimes what I’ve deemed selfish is actually what is for the collective good. It is how what is true and right and good is manifest.

I am here for love. Isn’t that what every bit of our being is shouting? What else drives us like love does? What else can stop us in our tracks, cause us to completely change course, to see the error of our ways? What else is real?

You cannot understand it or pin it down. You cannot contain it. It is magical.

Be magical. Celebrate it.

Throw off the shackles of the death cult.

Let’s be joyous even though we are afraid.



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