“The world is full of magic things, patiently waiting for our senses to grow sharper.”
― W.B. Yeats
Magic becomes real as we realize that much of what we know for sure about ourselves and the world is really a collection of past reactions to events, stuck on repeat. As I practice just receiving love in the moment, I see more and more that what knocks me down isn’t people, or things, it’s the walls of limitation that all my pain and fear has built. Magic isn’t imposing our will over truth. Magic is the knocking down of reality by awakening to the infinity of Love and Truth that is already graced within us.
This weekend we celebrated the 19th birthday of our second-eldest son. I had difficulty sleeping the night before his birthday, we’ve all had this yucky virus, which has aggravated me and our 11 yr old’s asthma, so no one has been sleeping that great for a while anyway, and on top of it all, is Prednisone, an anti-inflammatory corticosteroid that brings out my moodiness like washing your car brings rain, or talking on the phone makes all your kids need your immediate and total attention. So with sleep deprivation, my eyes set to “tear”, and my temper on 11, some little mini-troubles became huge, swear-worthy ones in a matter of minutes to me. My husband had insisted I nap while he cleaned, but he did it “man style”, ( sorry men, that’s not really a fair label but hopefully you kwim and forgive the generalization!) meaning he did a lot of work while not making our house look any better. Than he just couldn’t for the life of him identify the one pink and flowery quilt I just bought at a garage sale as “the girly quilt”, even though I most always call it that, so that we could have our guest room ready for our birthday boy/man’s girlfriend. Then, after flying out the door, I find that my sons have kicked over the very fancy cupcakes I had triumphantly found on sale, makes them very smooshed fancy cupcakes, because though our eldest had been asked by his dad several times to put the bag they were in in the trunk, he set it on the backseat where it was trampled by his younger brothers on their way into the car.
So, by the time we were on the way to my parents house to set up the party, I was pretty upset. And pissed off. And upset. And then I realized I was mostly upset about being upset. I know from years of experience that being hurt and angry just makes me have more things to be hurt and angry about, because I can’t hardly forgive myself for my terrible behavior towards my poor family. So I asked myself what I was actually so hurt about, to be so angry that I hated myself for it, and I realized that whether it’s a quilt in disguise or a messy house or a trampled pastry, that what it was to me was someone hurting me on purpose. What I saw was perfectly wonderful people, smart people, so smart and wonderful that surely just washing dishes and wiping counters all together so that it all gets cleaned and pretty looking as you do it is not at all beyond them, that moving a bag holding cupcakes where you were asked to is, pardon the pun, a cakewalk. I was mad because it’s not because they messed up. It’s because they messed up because I was not important enough for them to care not to. Whoa! Wow! Huh.
So I told them. I told them why I had been so upset. I also mentioned that I realized that well, all that was really untrue. I told them that little accidents are bound to happen and that they were just that, little, and that I really wanted to be able to laugh over them. And so I did. And the feelings that triggered from the few little incidents that happened afterwards, instead of being driven by that old pain, were allowed to wash over and through me. And you know what happened? We had the most awesome, kick-ass, amazing night together welcoming a new year for our son. True magic.