Magic Moments


I remember watching the movie, “Grand Canyon” several years ago. It’s one of my all time favorite movies about life happening.  At one point in the movie, the wife (played by Mary McDonnell) is jogging and finds an abandoned baby. She doesn’t call the police and instead decides to keep it. When her husband (played by Kevin Kline) comes home and decides that she’s crazy, she tells him she believes it to be a miracle.  She tells him “Maybe we don’t have any experience with miracles so we’re slow to recognize them.”

That line has always stuck with me and I believe it to be true about magic.  Perhaps we don’t have enough experience in recognizing when magic happens.

Another line from the Grand Canyon movie during this same scene with the baby is when the husband groans from realizing that he is not going to win this argument and says “I’m getting a headache.” She tells him emphatically, “No. It is inappropriate for you to get a headache in the presence of a miracle.”

I believe that people in the our society today have allowed themselves to become numb to the intricacies of magical moments — they’re not finding and/or having any magical moments because they can no longer recognize them…and most people will not come far enough out of their comfort zone to allow magic to happen.

Magic has always been a part of my life. From the fairy tales my mom used to tell me to watching cartoons about magic to finally recognizing that it exists with every move I make.

My most current magical moment was in realizing that the respiratory cold my body is experiencing is not separate from the shifting consciousness I’m experiencing from my connection and communion with Nia, with Reiki and with Tarot.  That which no longer serves me has to move out in order for that which is waiting to serve me to come into place.  So I am grateful for what is moving out and for what is moving in.

In my last blog post I spoke of the words that had been given to me through spirit:  Gratitude and Forgiveness and the six words that have become my creative process were given to me by my Tarot guru ( Dream, Create, Study, Learn, Inquire and Prepare. My Dream is being created…I’ve already designed a class around dancing Nia to the energy of each of the Major Arcana tarot cards and a workshop designed to delve a little deeper into tarot and movement. I will be studying and learning more about how to best present my dream, I will be inquiring internally and preparing for what comes next.

For those of you who dabble in or know tarot, the cards related to my creative process are:

Seven of Cups:  “I am willing to do what I can to make my dreams a reality.”
Queen of Wands:  “I am powerfully creative. I trust and stoke my inner creative fire.”
The Chariot: “I can steer my life any way I wish”
Ace of Swords:  “New thoughts, ideas” and Eight of Swords REVERSED: “I am always able to find a way.”
High Priestess: “All the answers I need are within me. I trust my own intuition.”
Three of Wands: “I am ready to expand my world. My potential is unlimited.”

The Empress: “My creativity and abundance are unlimited” and the Knight of Cups: “I bring my innermost dreams to life” are my guides through the process.

There is even more being magically placed before me that I am unable to speak about just yet, but I know it’s powerful and I open my arms to what life has to offer.

My birthday was Sunday; my body turned 64 years of age. My spirit is eternal.

Step out of your comfort zone.  Say yes and be blessed.

The Mythtery of a Comfort Zone


I’ve always been big on having my comfort zone clearly defined (I’m a Capricorn).  It isn’t a destination I can find using my GPS…unless GPS stands for Gastro-intestinal Panic Syndrome.  That’s usually when I know I’ve stepped out of my comfort zone.  My gut tells me immediately.  Nervousness…butterflies in my stomach.

But the love for my comfort zone has changed…was it yesterday? …or was it a week ago — perhaps even months ago, years ago…somewhere along the line I became aware that my comfort zone really wasn’t all that comforting.  It was more like the feeling after a nice toke.  Those of you who know about tokes (one toke over the line, sweet Jesus), know what I mean.  That feeling of ahhhhh.  I have nothing to do and nowhere to go.  In fact it’s not that I have nothing to do, but I that I don’t WANT to do anything.  I don’t want to go anywhere, except maybe a trip to the kitchen to see what I can dream up to squelch the munchies (peanut butter and marshmallow fluff on…well…anything.)  But I digress…(nice memories though).

The alleged comfort zone is not a mystery, it’s a mythtery.  It doesn’t exist except in our heads and we concoct it as bait to catch our own sense of self-denial or self-loathing or insecurities and let them snuggle in all nice and warm.  (Another toke would be good here.)  Comfort zones are the adult version of a binky.

I turned 62 this past January.  I went to the Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers concert at Summerfest last night — stepping out of my comfort zone.  I don’t like going to Summerfest at night…you know…the hoodlums, and the thieves, and the people who only come out at night will be there.  Ha. Did I see any?  Nope.  What I saw were about a million 50 to 70 year old men and women (some taking that toke occasionally) who seemed to have found their comfort zone.  So I decided to settle in, too.

Then I had to go to the bathroom.  The concert was supposed to start in 30 minutes.  It took a lifetime to get to the bathrooms (evidently the kiosks had run out of beer, so the 50- and 70-somethings were left to stand mortified in the middle of the walkway causing a major damn, I mean dam-up.  Holy cow…really…I got the sensing of what cows must feel like who are being herded into a small contained area.  It was ridiculous.  Comfort zone?  I think not.  Smelly, sweaty people (me being one of them) being pushed in one direction with a whole ‘nother grouping swarming and pushing the other way.  Not a pleasant sensation when one has claustrophobia.  

I finally made it to the bathroom…only to have to stand in a line with 14,000 other women who had swam their way through the morass of sweaty humanity…oh and did I mention that it had rained…no, poured…just moments before, so the air was heavy with (pot smoke) moisture — and the grounds and bathrooms were filled with puddles of (hopefully) water.   I’m standing behind a woman who had Farrah Faucett hair — really gorgeous.  She turned around and I was caught off guard.  Her face was brown and leathery, although she was attractive in a chain-smoker kind of way.  She made a comment, using her best gravely voice, about her 70’s hair-do going to hell and what was she doing here at her age.  I laughed and said, “yeah, I know, I’m 62”.  She gasped out that she was 45 and said “you must not be a smoker.”  It actually took everything I had not to gasp back at the fact that she was only 45.  She looked 20 years older than 45 — which would put her pretty close to my age, so I probably have to add that I don’t look 62 (at least I don’t think I do…part of my comfort zone).

Everyone made it back to their seats, the concert started, I danced and head-banged to the music and felt that youthful satisfaction of rockin’ out (deep breathing in the wafting pot smoke from the 50- to 70-somethings).  

Back to my comfort zone…or actually the lack of it.  Someone moved it.  They didn’t ask if they could, they just moved it.  And to date I haven’t found it since my GPS (not the one used in a car) seems to be on stand-by, lurking about, making itself known.

I like it though…I read on one of my Facebook friend’s posts that the butterflies, the nerves and nervousness lets her know that there is magic awaiting…

As much as I used to enjoy my comfort zone, I’m much more fascinated with the possibility of magic happening.  So whoever took my comfort zone, have fun.  You can have it.  Magic it is for me.

Abracadabra!!!  Did I mention that I teach Nia?  (