I'm in the business of life stories, and often that makes me reflect on my own life. I've journaled since the age of thirteen, and blogged about my lifeworld for nineteen years, so this comes quite easily to me. I also keep a timeline of each year of my life, now divided into chapters – not for the purpose of writing a book, but merely because they feel like chapters. Sometimes I can't believe I lived those stories in this same life.
I've been realising that my life has been rather interesting, but I'm not sure if, on the whole, it has felt joyful or exciting. It hasn't really turned out the way I'd hoped in many ways. I've done my best, I regret nothing, I've laughed a lot. Good things happened, there were challenges and heartbreaks, there were large periods of just feeling meh and not looking forward to much and agonising about the future. Probably like most people.
But lately I've been looking at my life through the lens of magic.
I do believe in magic. In things falling into place. In fulfilled dreams. In serendipity and meaningful coincidences. In creative sparks. In daydreams playing out scene for scene. In soul-affirming moments of clarity. In open doors and new worlds. In sparkling snow. In unexpected auroras. In love.
I'm still trying to define what truly constitutes a moment of enchantment. I'm learning more about magic systems as I work on my novel, and I'm thinking more about different types of magic and power. So when I try to identify its effects on my life, for this purpose, I don't really think of small moments of everyday magic, but rather the bigger shifts involving luck or inspiration or clarity. Moments when I almost forgot myself. Like waking up amidst mountains. Falling into my first Famous Five, and consequently into love with books. The dazzling smile that caused my first crush. Boys I thought were cute repeatedly ending up in my class so I could look at them every day. Realising that anthropology was the answer to my question. Stepping into London one September day and feeling like I was home. Entering each apartment I've rented for the first time. Finding my first genealogical records (and then many times after). Discovering K-dramas. Landing a dream project. Being struck by a novel idea I loved, just like that during a shower, after years of waiting.
In other words, moments when my universe changed and my body thrilled and my breath caught; when my heart and brain both knew something extraordinary had happened. I guess my magic moments were often portals to new worlds. They held the promise of adventure or rightness. Did I still question the magic? Sure. I wasn't someone who was going to simply trust it, or follow it blindly. I had to do the research and planning, make the pro-con lists, second guess myself till I felt crazy.
But now that I'm seeing the pattern, the questions I'm asking myself are: Can I rely on this magic? That it has happened before, and therefore it will again? Can I understand it, maybe even use it? Is it only felt in the moment, or is it also magic when realised in hindsight? Does it have to be unexpected, or do I have to hope for it on some level? Can I daydream about it? Do I have to take a step? Do I have to ask a question? Can I create it?
I don't know the rules yet, but something tells me I will.
*
Photo: Cambridge, November 2011
Comments
Post a Comment