Choosing Magic

I worked in a restaurant in Chelsea long ago, a wine bar on 7^th Avenue in New York City. It was a small place with three levels. There were some tables upstairs, overlooking the main bar area. Downstairs was the kitchen, and there was a room with a fireplace and sofas and tables close together.

It was cushy and comfortable in that room. With the wine flowing and the warmth from the fireplace, things got quite rowdy down there, especially on late weekend nights. I wore steel-toed motorcycle boots, running up and down those stairs all night long with those heavy shoes. At the time, this was my idea of fitness. If I ever need a hip replacement, I will blame it on those years and those shoes.

A young man started showing up late nights, a sleight of hand artist who would entertain the patrons with card tricks. I’m not sure he was quite 21 years old. He was quiet and pale, with a sweetness to him. His talent was astonishing. The customers would get overwhelmed with his mastery, and they loved it.

When I describe tricks he performed, I am an unreliable narrator. My attitude with sleight of hand is of total trust. I want to be fooled. I guess most people watch the magician to catch the tell, to find the flaw and figure out the way the trick works, but I enter a state of complete surrender. I want the magician to succeed and leave me astounded.

There are several tricks I remember: a man finding his ring looped on his own key chain in his pocket. A marked dollar bill rolled up in a piece of fruit. Of all of them, one stands out. The magician had me shuffle an imaginary deck of cards, pick a card from the imaginary deck, put the card back in the imaginary deck, and then give it him. Then he pulled out a real deck, shuffled it up, and picked out the card I had chosen in the imaginary deck.

This is how I remember the trick. I realize I am probably forgetting some crucial step, and that it probably was just a magic trick, but I will forever believe that was magic.

I have seen magicians on television doing similar things. Sometimes I wonder if this was a young David Blaine. The weight of his talent was extraordinary, and he did several of the things I have seen Blaine do on television. The young man carried himself in way that made it seem as if he, too, were caught up in the wonder of the whole thing. This made him likeable, and also a little spooky.

One night, he came in with three people who were years older, and who were dressed extravagantly, like magician royalty somehow. They had a deep energy about them, and the four of them huddled at a table by the fireplace. I wanted to hear what they were saying, but there was no breaking in to that circle.

There are so many worlds in New York so specialized and interesting. One of the benefits of working in such a place was now and then, I got a glimpse of this wide world of possibility. That in itself was magic.

On another night, I was watching the magician delight a table of people. A man at the bar said to me, you have to be careful with these people. The kid could be clearing out the place as we sit here watching him.

That had never occurred to me, that the magician would use his talent for nefarious gain. First of all, he came back to the same place night after night, and stealing from the clients wouldn’t seem to support his profession. People were throwing money at him anyway, just in their delight at the ability. His comment told me a great deal about the man at the bar, that he would be afraid of such a thing, looking not at the magic, but at the possibility of thievery, and of fear. It said something about myself as well, and my gullibility.

I can’t be the only one who longs for and believes in magic in the world. In fact, from reading the news it seems that many of us love delusion so much we’re willing to battle over it, but I’ll leave that alone.

Maybe I love magic because on a daily basis, I surrender to mystery, faith in something far outside my realm of understanding. In my work as a spiritual counselor, I am always moving between two worlds, into the energetic field. When playing music, I access that magic emptiness that lies in the center of the song. Spiritual practice and music allow access to that bridge between two worlds, this prosaic one and the ethereal.

I’m not saying that I don’t have discernment. In some ways, I feel like I may have a more critical eye than most. My first instinct is to give the benefit of the doubt, to expect the best intent of the other person. When the rankles rise though, I feel them, and trust them immediately.

It hasn’t been often that I’ve been very deceived in my life, and when I have been, I look back and see how I walked into the deception ignoring all of the bells and whistles that were going off along the way. We do this when we want something, and the desperation for the want or need drives us to ignore all the red flags.

The pull of dishonest spiritual teachers is a good example of this. People yearn for a connection with the divine. This yearning drives a person to ignore their deep inner knowing that something isn’t right. Dishonest romantic partners are the same. We desire so much to be loved, that we cut off the intuition that says, this person isn’t in alignment with what is best for me.

When we get caught up in our desire or fear, and we can’t see beyond it, we have the gift of our physical intelligence. Our physical body signals to us whether something is good for us, or not.

So much of meditation practice is connecting to these signals. In insight meditation, we can physically feel what is aligned, that which is of benefit to us. The longer we spend doing this, the more mindful we are in our choices from moment to moment.

When we’re conscious in this way, we recognize and let go of fear. When we have faith in our own discernment, we are not constantly on guard. We meet life in an openness that allows good to come to us. Fear is like a wall that keeps everything out, good and bad. When we know we can trust ourselves to know, fear falls away.

When choosing what to believe or what action to take, it’s important to ask: am I doing or believing this because I’m afraid of something? Am I choosing this because of a craving for or attachment to what is being offered? If there is fear there, you can bet your inner intuition is being thwarted. If there is desperation for something, or against something, we risk choosing a path that isn’t in our best interest.

This feels esoteric until we actually experience this fearless and open way of being in the world. This is the way we meet possibility and potential for new things. This is the way we invite the best things to us. This is the way we put our faith in others and put our energy into that which is for the best.

So much of the world is in a big soup of misinformation, mis-knowing, and distrust. The stock of that soup is fear. We have within us the ability to feel how we align with the best for us. It might not be what we think is going to get us what we want, but that deeper intuition has its own truth. We intuitively know what is best for ourselves, beyond all of the false desires.

When we feel ourselves out of alignment, we can feel it in our bodies. For me, there is a gripping kind of belly clench that happens when I’m acting out of fear or craving. Learning to tune in to this deep intelligence is a purpose of meditation practice.

This is a fun exercise to try. Sit quietly, and allow your mind to rest. Then say out loud, “My name is _______.” Say your name. See what happens in your body when you say that a couple of times.

Now, in this same quiet, say out loud, “My name is Alice.” Unless your name is Alice, tune in and see what happens in your body. Is there a ripple of contraction that moves through? A kind of signal the body is giving you that what you’ve said is untrue?

We know what’s true, in our bones. We have the ability to live in this truth, moment to moment. Fear falls away as we begin to trust in ourselves, and we meet the day in our own power and fullness of our knowing. As we practice and cultivate this, the true magic of every bit of our world gets brighter and brighter, until we see the joyful wonder we were born into.

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