When I was a little girl, I used to wish that I could go to Hogwarts. I used to play witches with my friend in the storage closet under the stairs. I wanted so badly for magic to be real.
In the past couple of years, I’ve discovered that magic is real, just not the way I expected. My body is my magic wand.
It’s a channel for creative energy to move through. I can tune it to pleasure. When I give it the space and the permission, it knows how to release tension, old beliefs, and stuck energy to move towards wholeness. It’s capable of laugh-gasms and fierceness and intimate connection with other beings (especially cats, omg I love cats).
My body takes care of breathing, and pumping blood, and making new body from my food, and coordinating complicated movements all from a deep part of my brain hidden from my view. Through the clenching in my throat, or the warmth through my heart, it speaks the truth.
And if all that isn’t magic, then I don’t know what is.