Ordinary Magic

Yesterday I taught the 9 AM yoga class, as the snow came down outside and covered everything in a fresh blanket of white powder, I spoke about the anticipation of change and newness that is present on New Year’s Eve. In my short life, I have been let down on New Years Day and Christmas Day and my Birthday, and most Mondays because of my expectations. I actually believed I would grow sparkly wings, but my wishes didn’t all come true, and when I woke up I had to face the fact that unicorns didn’t run wild in the hills of Chino Valley Arizona. And at the same time I know that magic does exist. Ordinary, Everyday Magic. The magic of sitting quietly by myself in the early morning before anyone else is awake, the magic of making really delicious food, the magic of an Arizona sunset. I know this as fact. The Tibetan Buddhists called it Drala, or “Ordinary Magic,” which appears when I slow down and pay attention.

Looking for some credit-worthy source to back me up on this opeinion, I came across the book, Ordinary Magic: Everyday Life as Spiritual Path, edited by John Welwood. Here’s a passage from the intoduction:

As children we have all felt, at least occasionally, a powerful sense of wonder at being alive in this world. Yet in growing up, we mostly lose that sense of magic. As we become caught up in worldly ambitions and burdens, life becomes increasingly routine, humdrum, and one-dimensional. 

Magic, as I am using this term, is a sudden opening of the mind to the wonder of existence. It is a sense that there is much more to life than we usually recognize; that we do not have to be confined by the limited views that our family, our society, or our own habitual thoughts impose on us; that life contains many dimensions, depths, textures, and meanings extending far beyond our familiar beliefs and concepts.

The loss of a sense of the magic and sacredness of life is also happening in our world at large. In traditional cultures living closer to the natural world, people had a more immediate sense of larger forces shaping their lives. Gods and demons were near at hand. And the culture provided rituals and symbols that helped people remember the larger sacred dimentions of life in the midst of their daily activities. Walking, eating, lovemaking, working—indeed, every activity and life passage—were endowed with religious or symbolic meanings that helped individuals connect with the larger, universal forces shaping their destiny. 

Now that we have become disconnected from the cycles and rhythms of nature, we frequently seem to miss the whole point of being here at all as we rush thorugh the whirlwind of our busy lives. Yet being busy is not the main problem. What does it matter whether we have ten things to do today or just one, since we can do only one things at a time in any case? The problem with having ten things to accomplish is that while doing one, we are often dreaming or worrying about the success or failure of all ten. The speed and compulsion of our thoughts distract us and pull us away from where we are at each moment.

The word dis-traction is particularly useful here. It suggests losing traction, losing our ground—which is precisely what happens when we slip and fall away from being present. It is only in the stillness and simplicity of presence—when we are aware of what we are experiencing, when we are here with it as it unfolds—that we can really appreciate our life and reconnect with the ordinary magic of being alive on this earth.

p. xiii-xiv

I declare this year the year of “Ordinary Magic.” Slow down, be present. I was joking with my friend Sera yesterday that when I feel the urge to “Wreck House” as we like to say, what’s really going on is the need to move some energy but my mind goes off the deep end and spouts off things like, “Get a puppy, have a baby, buy a car, spend more money, eat the whole chocolate bar, kick, punch, kick,” but what I do instead is sit down and keep my hands to myself (and shut up for at least 20 minutes.)

When I learn that my thoughts are not to be trusted I am able to connect with something way more real than the constant fluctuations of the mind. That something else I’m calling “Magic” today. As my yoga teacher, Bhavani Maki said, “Yoga is the process of making the impossible possible.” And making magic requires a combination of effort and ease. “Leaning forward slightly off balance,” as Andrew Cohen said. We must do our own work. We must do our own work. I am not repeating myself, I am writing it again for emphasis.