Can you recall magical moments in your life?
Do you have to go back to childhood to find them, or can you engage magic as an adult?
How can you experience magic now? And what or who invites you into it?
I’m very much spiritual. And I’m very much a scientist. Sometimes those things seem conflictual on the surface, yet science itself feels magical to me. To me, magic is a sense of wonder, a willingness to be present to it, and an ability to linger in awe a little longer than necessary.
How amazing is it that I once ran between my neighbor’s yard, where it was raining, and our yard, where it was completely dry, finding the exact point where one world ended and the other began? We invited the neighbors to run in and out of it as though it were a sprinkler from the sky.
Or the winter morning in adulthood when I discovered a bottle of supercooled water left in my car. The moment I bumped it by picking it up, it transformed instantaneously into ice, as if I were holding a magic trick.
Science can explain both of those experiences, but understanding them doesn’t make them any less magical.
Then there’s the kind of magic I can’t fully explain, though I can certainly come up with theories. The uncanny moments with a spark that makes you question what you think you know.
The friend I haven’t thought about in years who suddenly calls a few days after crossing my mind.
The deer and the spider who appeared during separate prayers for clarity.
The voice that once told me I must become unfettered love and compassion and seemed to place me into a yoga mudra while I stood in the center of a labyrinth. The same labyrinth where a wounded groundhog sat in the middle to heal. The same labyrinth where a pileated woodpecker offered what felt like a message to a friend.
Can I prove any of those things meant what I think they meant? Am I crazy for entertaining the notions?
Of course not.
Because sometimes the magic isn’t in whether something was sent by the universe.
Sometimes the magic is in what gets awakened within us.
Maybe the deer and the spider were truly placed there for a reason, and I am a part of an intricate whole that responds to itself.
Maybe we are all connected in ways we don’t yet understand.
Or maybe they simply helped me break through the noise of fear and self-doubt that kept me frozen long enough to hear a deeper knowing that was already inside me, gently nudging me forward BECAUSE of the fear rather than in spite of it.
Maybe they invited reflection. Or a cowabunga moment. (The important thing isn’t using any of it to bypass reality. It’s using it to know myself more deeply.)
How am I like this creature? What might I learn from it?
How does this likeness show up in my life? And how is it holding me back or moving me forward?
If I trusted this deeper knowing that is trying to emerge, how might I act differently? How might I care for myself? How might I show up more courageously?
Those questions matter whether the sign came from the universe, my subconscious mind, a desire for a divine answer outside myself, or a combination of all the above.
In fact, I think that’s one of the greatest misunderstandings about magic. We imagine it has to be supernatural to be meaningful.
But wonder itself is transformative (Ever notice that spark that comes with magic? No wand required!)
Meaning-making is transformative.
Paying attention is transformative.
The moment we stop rushing past our lives and become curious enough to ask, “What if this has something to teach me?” we step into a different relationship with the world.
A more enchanted one, alive, and engaged world inspires the same in us.
So perhaps that’s my invitation to you today: not to prove magic exists but to notice that it already does and to feel the energy that comes from feeling that kind of connection with something that doesn’t need to be fully understood to move you deeply.
Love, Renee