There is a lot of Magic happening every day in every moment. And sometimes, when I am in despair and darkness, I fail to notice the blessings and potent Magic surrounding me.
But then I realized that the Western colonial and capitalistic system was designed to take away the Magic, make us lose our connection to it, and slowly slide, with us all, into a soulless world.
We pour concrete on rich soil, extract precious stones from the Earth, and build dams on rivers, stealing all of them from their Magic. We cut ancient tree groves to make paper pulp for our toilet and dry ancient great lakes to make fuzzy sugary drinks, stealing the Magic from those places.
Many years ago, as I was walking the mystical land of Glastonbury in search of the rare and precious dragon egg, it struck me so clearly: the Magic had been stolen, the dragon had not disappeared but gone dormant under the Earth to protect what was left of the Magic.
In the depths of the Andean mountains of Peru, I heard the same story from my teacher. The sacred sites are not "abandoned". They are asleep; the Magic went back into the stones and the heart of the mountains, waiting for the time to be awakened and received in good ways.
When we steal children from their youth, land from its sacred nutrition, forests from their abundance, oceans from their fish, and people from their innocence, we steal the magic spark of our souls. When we put animals in cages, people in cubicles, families in housing projects, the elderly in nursing homes, and immigrants in detention centers, we still all of them, and the world, from their Magic.
The soulless world of concrete, metal machines, and extractive technology birth soulless monsters and systems, wars and oppression, pain and despair.
Yet in the heart of heart, the playful children, the beat of our drums, the relentless land caretakers, and the remote communities of native earth keepers, you can still find the Magic, alive, visible, and pure. There, people do not believe in Magic; they know Magic.
I am always so deeply saddened when people say they don't believe in Magic in response to the dry, scarce, violent, and dead reality they see. Indeed, you do not believe in it; it was stolen from you. Look at what we have become: never-ending beggars of consumption, barely alive, pale bodies that have lost their spark as we walk the artificial world searching for what has been robbed from us.
Where has the Magic gone? Where has the Magic gone?
Today, a bee landed on me as five magnificent Bald Eagles flew together above the sanctuary land. A moment that reminded me that some magic is still alive, still visible, still waiting for our children's eyes to be filled with wonder and awe, for our hearts to be ecstatic in the experience of the breath, our eyes baffled by the shifting clouds and the colors of a rainbow and our ears in the orgasm of receiving the delicate symphony of the melting ice sounds of spring rivers.
For a moment, I was back in the paradisiac Eden of Creation. For a moment, I was reminded that this quest into the mystery of life, the potent activations of our prayers, and the disciplined sacred steps we must walk on this Earth are more relevant than ever.
For a moment, I saw the Magic still alive today, the Magic waiting to be awakened, and all the Magicians working tirelessly all over the planet to craft this sacred Earth, this sacred web of Magic.
Angell Deer
