My youngest child believes me to be a wizard. My oldest child confirms it. They can’t quite determine how I know all the things, both mundane and extraordinary. It is of course, the best-kept secret of being a mother.
I always believed that children are the keepers of magic. With their magnificent composition of mythical tales, limitless dreams and steadfast belief in the splendor of the world – despite their sustained contact with older and wiser humans, who often lose their mystical touch – children remain the magical thinkers.
After ten years of sobriety, my magical thinking was failing. I could find no joy. The freedom and serenity I initially experienced, that rocketed me into the fourth dimension, slowly dissipated into the atmosphere.
Yet, my life was complete: I had a spouse, children and a career, the direct result of getting and staying sober. On paper, my life could have been an old black-and-white movie, playing out a dreamlike world. It seemed flawless.
I had all but forgotten that my disease centers in the mind, a disease of perception. The perception of my reality from the outside looked good. But, I was physically, emotionally and spiritually bankrupt – the trifecta of depletion. Despite my carefully curated existence and how it looked from the outside, on the inside, I felt full of obligations, burdens and shrouded unease.
On a cellular level, I knew I could not continue to exist this way. I had abandoned the magic that lives inside us. The magic that makes my children sing to themselves or dance without music. My light was extinguishing. Ultimately, my white flag was raised in total surrender.
So, I carried that flag straight into a scene I thought had ended. I trudged into a room with one empty seat and twelve steps hanging from the wall. I was home again.
For the first time in my life, and in sobriety, I truly began to open myself up to the Spirit of the Universe. I ceased fighting everyone, including myself. I stopped clinging desperately to the muddy terrain of the river walls and began to flow downstream in my relationships and in my life as a whole.
As this relationship with Spirit developed, the wonder in my soul began to creep around corners where it had long hidden. I began to dream again and build connection to the dirt beneath my feet. Tiny roots that would bridge my weary heart to Mother Earth again. This time I would accept her nourishment. I started saying “yes” to anything that would bring me closer to nature, Spirit and myself. It is not an easy path. I needed teachers.
My children have become those conjuring teachers. Spirit provides such wonderful avenues for learning. My oldest teaches me to never fear what is meant for me and to always be authentic. My youngest teaches me that all feelings are worthy of exploration and that living out loud is the best way for me to live.
I have determined, for myself at least, that the magical thinking phase of our childhood is no phase at all. It is a truth we are simply programmed to forget. If we keep our unyielding belief in the wonder around us and within us, we can in fact work with Spirit to manifest the magic that is meant for us.
Through my offspring and the countless humans in recovery who enlighten me daily, the light within me has begun to flicker and supply warmth again. As my self-awareness and hope grows so does the world. A few months shy of 15 years sober, I no longer have the spouse or the career I had imagined. I have many relationships that still require mending. Yet, I know peace.
Spirit, my children and all of you have taught me that when we experience life, truly participate in our own physical, emotional and spiritual recovery, we set off the magic inside us – and the mother within us. What sets the spark is different in each of us, and we must learn it for ourselves. But one thing I know for sure is, my children are right, I am a wizard. We all are. Spirit teaches us that we are made of magic.
Sending good vibes,
Jordann
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