Some fifteen years ago, when I was deep in the study of Native American spirituality, I traveled to the Black Hills of South Dakota to attend a powwow. As I was just about to fall asleep the night before the event – you know that time, when your body is starting to jerk, but you’re still conscious – I saw a vision of a very old Native American woman – “sage”, “wise” and “ancient” were all terms that came to my half-conscious mind. She had to have been over 100. Her withered deeply lined face hovered over me and her black eyes twinkled with light as my whole body tingled and I felt myself start to lift out of my physical form to travel with her to only God knows where. It was one of the most beautiful experiences of my life. It was pure magic and it was what I had been waiting on for seven years, minus the peyote.
About seventy five feet off the ground I started arguing with my monkey mind inner critic.
Me: OMG, this is beautiful. Feel this. I’m traveling with my spirit guide. She’s here. I’ve finally met her! I knew she’d come.
Inner Critic: You don’t even know this woman. She’s probably wanted in ten planes. She’s going to take your soul and you’re going to die on this gray shag carpet with the dark roast coffee stain next to your head. The chalk outline they make around your body is going to look goofy with that stain there.
Me: No, I’ve been waiting to meet her and experience this for my whole life. This is transcendental, dude. I’m floating. See my body down there? Look at her, she’s beautiful.
Inner Critic: Who are you? Fucking Sacagawea? Come back down. You’re never going to be able to find your body if you leave. You’re going to float around up there searching for a way to get back until the end of time.
Plop… just like that she vanished, my fear and asshole Inner Critic won, and I was laying back down in my body, tears streaming down into my ears. I haven’t seen her since, nor have I experienced anything even remotely like that ever again.
And now there is, once again, beautiful magic afoot, my friends. Not just for me, but for everyone I know. Folks are starting businesses they feel called to start, I’m launching a website and a whole new chapter of my life, many are feeling called to be “bigger”, to shine brighter, to be more authentically themselves, and to stand in their power, some even feel as if they’re just being led down golden paths of bliss – morsels of rich, dark chocolate being placed on their tongues while being fanned by gorgeous goddesses wearing shiny feathered headresses. It’s all good stuff, right?
Of course it is. Holy crap! Are you kidding me?
And it’s also really, REALLY scary.
For me, at least.
Recent conversation with the boyfriend:
Me: Holy shit, this all feels so serendipitous and beautiful and terrifying! Everything is flowing so perfectly and happening so fast. It’s magical. Can you feel the magic?
BF: It will all work out. I have faith in you.
Me: Yeah, but it’s all moving so quickly I feel like I can’t catch my breath. I know it’s good. It’s all GREAT stuff. I get that, but it’s overwhelming.
BF: It is all great stuff.
Me: Yeah, but what if I can’t keep up? What if it doesn’t work out? What if I’m fooling myself? What if the magic stops? What if…
BF: It won’t, you’ll be fine.
Me: Yeah, but…
Despite my boyfriend’s wise verbosity, I wasn’t satiated and quickly called a friend who would dine with me on the brunch of my fears with fist pumps and bacon thrown in for good measure.
We deduced that when things are going too well; when the magic is, well… too magical, we have a tendency to feel as if the other shoe will surely drop (and we’re talking a size 14 worn by a superstitious basketball player who’s donned the same pair since 1993.)
I have a sneaking suspicion that my friend and I are not the only ones whose monkey minds go here (and there and everywhere) trying to cling to the magic because they’re afraid it will disappear as quickly as 7-layer dip at a Superbowl party. And the irony is that when we head down this path of waiting for the Converse to drop, of fear and grasping and those “yeah, but’s,” inevitably the Converse is gonna drop. Hard. And we’re going to be smothered in foot powder with no magic to be seen anywhere.
Why is it so hard to stay in the flow and the magic and bliss? Hell, I can’t even allow my forearm to be tickled for too long because it just feels too good.
I’m beginning to realize that the magic is always there. It never goes anywhere. It’s just that we can’t access it when we’re bogged down by our lizard brains. Magic is simply our thoughts, intentions and energy manifest.
But I’d love to hear your thoughts on releasing the fear. Any tricks for staying connecting to the magic? Tips? Insights? Bueller… Bueller…