Magic is a Verb
One Month of Magic Writing Challenge Starts July 1!
I was raised on magic. Saturdays, we would all pile in the icy blue Buick station wagon, and my mom would just drive, letting intuition guide her, letting adventure pull her like a tide. Sometimes, we would end up in an orchard, the juice of sun-baked honey crisp apples dripping from our mouths. Other times, we would stumble upon a sailboat race, watching the boats release their spinnakers to the wind, a burst of color against the endless blue of sky and sea. We never knew where we were going, but I always knew something magical would find us.
Most of her life, my mom wished loudly. Held the want. Believed with unwavering certainty, until it came to her. And it always did. She wanted to take a vacation to the West Coast but couldn’t afford it. With a twinkle in her eye, It’s going to happen, she told me giggling. I’m not concerned with how. Three days later, the phone rang; she had won $15,000 in the raffle at the church she worked for. Three months later, we were sipping Mai Tais in Malibu, watching the waves roll in against the coral crush of a setting sun.
My mom was a student of wonder. Growing up, we didn’t have much, except everything—because we believed the universe was on our side. My mom taught me to write my own joy, to ask clearly and audaciously for what I want, and to let the magic find me.
And if it has.
Before my first date with my now husband, Omid, I was burnt out by the cruelty of online dating. Exhausted by men who ghosted. Men who type the cruelest things about my looks. Men who wanted me to do every ounce of the work. So sick of so many wrong fits and unkind encounters, I decided he would be my last date for a looooong time. But before I quit, I put magic to the test.
On our date, I brought my favorite tote with the first lines of the iconic poem “Howl” by Allen Ginsberg. I told the universe if this guy didn’t know what the quote on my purse meant, then—one drink, and done.
Omid took one look at my purse and said, Howl! My eyes narrowed more in surprise than skepticism. You read it? I asked. He smiled, Twice. On the same date, I was talking about one of my favorite nonfiction books, The Power of Habit. You mean this book? Omid asked, pulling it out of his backpack. The hair on my arms stood up.
The magic didn’t stop there. The number 77 has been my spiritual touchstone; when I see it on signs, license plates, flight numbers, I take it as a wink from the universe. You’re on the right track. Keep going! 77 whispers. I even have it engraved on the inside of my engagement ring. When we were chosen by my daughter's birth parents, after three heart-shattering years of infertility, something inside me could rest, knowing her and I had finally found each other. When she was born, the hospital identification number read 77477. The chances are—what—one in a hundred thousand? Or maybe statistics are silly to think about, because this magic was always meant to be.
W. B. Yeats says, “The world is full of magic things patiently waiting for our senses to go sharper.” I have spent most of my life trying to tune in, to call in what brings joy, wonder, curiosity, and bewilderment. To sit at the feet of magic, look into her eyes, and call her my sister.
Throughout my journey, I have learned that magic is a mindset, a muscle. Magic is the ability to be present in the awe of your own life. Magic is also a verb. Meaning: to create, transform, move, etc., by or as if by magic. We have the ability to magic our lives. Magic is not only a belief, but the action you take to call it—and yourself—home.
Starting July 1, I will be hosting a writing challenge: One Month of Magic. On my Substack page, I will post a daily poem, question, image, or prompt that makes you consider your story. How to be present to witness the awe of your own evolution and expansion. Each week will feature different feelings associated with magic: joy, wonder, reflection, and audacity.
The rules: Read the daily post here or via Substack chat. After, write for seven, seventeen, or seventy-seven minutes—whatever you like—exploring what it stirs inside you. That’s it. It’s easy and breezy and designed to make you consider things deeper to search for sparkle.
After you write, post your response in the comments section of that day's post (available for paid subscribers only). I will not be offering feedback, but I invite you to offer feedback to one another, to celebrate and clarify what is magical about one another’s work. How it deepened your own awareness and awe. To create more of this magical community.
P.S. Posts will NOT be emailed—don’t want to spam people—but they will be posted on chat. So, if you want a daily magical ping, turn the chat feature and notifications on. You can find how in your settings.
Looking forward to finding more magic with you all.
I am going to join!
I'm really looking forward to this. Goodness knows I could use the encouragement to be a little more joyous in my writing during these hot and troubled days.