Reflections on Becoming the Queen of Magic
A Thimble Full of Red, A Thimble Full of White
Remember, this is something you can have if you choose it!
I see you there darling, burning the midnight oil again. Your bones are dry, drained of the marrow that makes them alive, self-regenerating and strong. You are worshiping at the altar of security. You have made a false idol of striving and of righteousness. Upon this nefarious beast, you have poured out your soul juice without measure, limitation or satisfaction.
You have mistaken this for discipline and purity because it feels so arduous and so deserving of accolades. In it you stand as rigid as the oak.
And when you are worn out from this heavy effort, you will make another altar. You will deify yet another undeserving object of worship. You will drift off into the sweet lightness of fantasy and fascination. For a while, you will stay there building castles and spinning fabulous tales.
This you have mistaken for passionate desire and aliveness because it feels so good, so intoxicating to disappear into the fantasy and the make-shift mental shelter of unbridled possibility.
Yet while these sojourns into Never Land certainly raise your spirits and bring an unmistakable, albeit, temporary sense of well being, I have to ask you:
To what end?
The storehouse is close to empty and the well is running dry!
Meanwhile, your proverbial house stands divided against itself, and so, unless something changes dramatically, you, my dear, workaholic, overwrought, mistress of fantasy, are destined for failure.
Perhaps now we can get down to the business of achieving a sincere answer to a very urgent question: What might you do, in earnest, to loosen the strictures that have so cleverly bound up your potential and drained your wealth?
What novel idea, clever new turn of phrase, imaginative new direction...might liberate you from this prison of never enough?
Aha! I see the recipe for the magic elixir is beginning to take shape.
Yes! Squeeze that gluttonous beastie until it gives up the misspent milk of your weary bones. Fill the decanter with it. Harder dearest. Extract every last drop of it! Now add a dollop of the quixotic secretions seeping around the edges of your magnificent mind.
Here's a swizzle stick. Mix it up good.
Now take a swig or two.
Feel the anti-venom seeping through your veins, soaking your heart with freshness?
Take a look in there, over in the left hand corner, you will find the poisonous well from whence the lies have been pouring forth in a ravenous tidal wave. Oh what a clever, mischievous opponent! Just look at that. Right there at the nozzle head you'll find the filter. Love to one side, desire to the other. Purity to the left, passion to the right, and never the twain shall meet.
Cast the filter off. Let the waters flow together at last. In it find the sweet, unimaginative, unwavering, immovable power of love mingled with the ardent, fomenting fires of passion and creativity.
Quick. Take a look at the fleeting images flashing across the mirror of your life tonight. See how you are loved, in fact, are beloved for the tender, fiery shoots of your courageous open heart. Take a gander at the way people are drawn into your wild, sensual, deep, provocative spirit.
Drink the rest of the elixir, drink it all, this proud mixture of your arduous, yet heartfelt striving and the unbounded power of your lively imagination.
Tease out the flavors with your tongue. Can you taste it? Love and desire, purity and passion, steadfast work and equally steadfast vision.
With just a hint of strawberry!
It's time for the harvest. Grab your wicker basket lovely. No silly, not that one! The really big one.
Look there at the horizon. See how it sparkles and shimmers in the late afternoon sun. That is your destiny: vast riches, unimaginable wealth. First you will find it within and then you will find it reflected in the finery of your life.
But first I have to ask you for a sacrifice. I have to ask you to choose.
On the altar, you must lay to rest your investment in struggle and your affinity for the underdog. From the blood of that sacrifice, you must cast a new contract onto the parchment of your spirit.
Your vow: I will LIVE at the apex of possibility. I will HAVE it all.
In the moment of your sacrifice, the Queen of Magic will cease to be somewhere out in the wild blue yonder. You will discover that you have become her: magic personified.
Leave a Comment