All Hallows' Eve
It’s Halloween, and I am thinking on magic.
Not spells or potions. Not floor washes or carved candles. But the ordinary magic, the easy incantations of kindness and connection.
The way the leaves have all but rioted into rainbows, falling to the ground in devastating beauty. The way the fog, this morning, was all-encompassing, then slowly fading, fleeing into the ether, revealing the world. Revelations are like that, sometimes.
Gentle, then a rush—and an unexpected gift.
Right now, I am holding to magic—the simple kind, conjured in an early morning cup of coffee. In an unexpected bit of joy. The way certainty feels soft and strong, without tipping the scales into overwhelming. The steady song of what is true and what will be.
Admittedly, there’s a lot of anxiety right now. I am not the only one, I know. There’s a lot of uncertainty right now. And I know this in my own life and the world at large. It sounds trite to say we’re in this together, but I firmly believe that in my heart.
When things are uncertain, look to joy. Look to those who feel/are safe. Reach out a hand, a heart. Take your feelings and put them into art—any art. (A dear friend likes to stab things—that is to say, embroider.) Despair has sharp teeth. It’s shades of the The Doldrums. Despair wants you to give up. To forget your own power. To relinquish your magic.
Don’t you dare.
Hold to it. Hold to those who you love, despite the mess. These folks are rare. Tell them every damn chance you get that they matter to you. And open your heart to hear the same.
So much of life is uncertainty and chaos—stress and worry and wondering. But the things that live in the thrum of our heartbeat are always certain and calm. I often joke about the idea of intuition—sometimes, it just means you’re paying attention. But sometimes, there is that bit of unexplained/unexplainable knowing. And you just wait for the story to unfold.
Do not cower or cave to hopelessness. Do not forget who you are and what you are capable of. Remember, too, that you are not alone. That isolation is often a trick of the dark. Defiantly light a match. Throw open the curtains. Dive into a good book. Kiss someone who thinks you’re absolutely wonderful, just as you are—not less, not less messy. You and all your starlit splendor.
There’s magic, if you look. Open your eyes. Let it in.
XOXO