what if the universe itself is one condensed thought, what if thought is matter that is not yet condensed? If thought becomes action, and action becomes reality, are we not all, then, magicians, for the ability our thoughts have to modulate matter itself? We view this basic ability as crude, mundane, lacking in mystical “sparkle,” but this is only because we’ve known it as long as we’ve lived.
If we were to be stripped of basic mobility, to be robbed of such essential and core potency, then were to rediscover it after a period of being held, tied, bound, we’d view what is taken for granted by most beings as a wondrous, marvelous, great gift, as a ticket to adventure and the most precious form of freedom possible.
Perhaps magic is defined only by perceived limitations. What is magic to one is mundanity to another.
I think we all have the privilege of rediscovering the magic that is omnipresent merely by shifting our perspective. It reminds me of these song lyrics from Ghost Inside Our House by Cloud Cult:
“Please send us a miracle so I know that there is meaning —
I said I think that it’s a miracle just to be breathing.”
Take in the magic of every movement. You are magic. You are a wondrous, complex, beautiful biological machine, you are a force of nature, take into account the very majesty and miracle that is your consciousness itself, the workings of your brain, your heart, your ability to perceive and interact with the world —
How on Earth could we ever take any of this for granted?
Part of my spiritual practice, in this way, is about sensitization and subtlety, for it is through subtlety that one becomes sensitized to the grandeur that is omnipresent. To be an eternal youth is to permanently see the world anew. Spiritual enlightenment and eternal youth is to be forever captured by awe and by wonder, for once these die, so too does one’s youth — and I am sorry, but we have no excuse to ever let these things go, for the expanses of this very world, all of its variety, all of its different peoples, potential experiences, the art, the music, the virtually-infinite expanses of this universe — if we have lost awe and wonder, that is an “us” thing. We’ve no excuse to live in any other way than with glee and excitement
THE CLOSET MYSTIC 