More Magic, Please

Caught between castles in the sky and dreams of Mars, I discovered the true magic wasn’t in the wish—it was in the moment.

I happened to glance over and saw a big, bold shooting star through my window.

Giddy about what I could wish for, I scrolled through my memory for all of the things that I have wished for before, what I think should be good wishes, possible clever wishes — like wishing for more wishes — and brand new wishes. I wondered how I could ball up all possible wishes into a blanket declaration that tricked the universe into treating it like one big wish. After some time, I felt a little anxious that there may be a time limit for these things and I really should get to it.

Note: Assigning scarcity like “only one wish” and “time limits” to unmeasurable things like wishes and shooting stars is another subject to be explored.

I kept scrolling. I thought about castles in the sky, living underwater, creating an empire for transformative storytelling, the many ways I could use some guidance around creating a life of perpetual contribution to the collective… oh, and the space shuttle trip to Mars I’d like to be on. I mean, if you’re going to wish on an asteroid from millions of light-years away, might as well throw those interstellar wishes in there, and I’m only a few degrees of separation away from Elon, so…

I scrolled through these and all the things that could be worthy of my big shooting star moment. However, these things didn’t feel empty, but they also didn’t feel whole somehow.

I eventually burned out on wish scrolling and I stopped trying so hard. I noticed the shape of the windowpane in my room and the contrast of the shale blue night sky with very little stars. I noticed the vastness of the sky and remembered how interesting it is to be laying in a bed looking up to the sky while spinning on a planet in space. I noticed the subtle sounds in my room, the feeling of sheets on my skin and my dog now snoring near the bed. Then I remembered what I really, really, really want and what feels most whole.

Things are great, but it’s not the things that make things great.

It’s the experience of things in the moment. It’s the pure presence of the things. Like connection through authentic eye contact with another person, it’s being in flow as I write this very text, it’s paying attention to details and noticing something brand new about something I thought I couldn’t know any better, it’s recognizing and allowing the love that surrounds me right now. For me, it’s a tingling feeling of excitement without any attachment to a thing, but trusting that “things” are all around and available too.

When I catch these moments, it literally takes my breath away and sometimes I even sit down and feel into it in awe and wonder. It’s the most vulnerable and the most powerful sensation. It’s where peace is born and dances with happiness, understanding, love, as well as bewilderment, pain, and sorrow. All of it, right there. Ready to play.

So on this shooting star, I wished to be in the moment as much as possible. To be perpetually led back to the present moment and allow all that wants to come in. I wished to be ready and patient and to stay awake to notice the magic where it shows up.

After all, I didn’t come here to master a micro-managed life, I came here to create a magical one.

More magic, please, Mr Shooting Star.