My magical thinking era

Is it delusion or destiny?

Three humpback whales surrounded our tiny dive boat in Maui. When they were underneath the waters became completely still. But when they were swimming along the sides, the boat flung around like a tennis shoe in a dryer. I was in a panic the entire time. I was nine years old and I hid in the captain’s cockpit on a three legged stool that tipped with each slosh of whale and water.

They were enormous and I couldn’t comprehend what was happening. I was screaming and crying in fear while the adults were screaming and crying with joy and glee. I don’t remember seeing the whales clearly. Just shapes. I do remember the rickety stool and seeking safety by being cocooned in a tiny box while giants surrounded us.

For fifteen minutes, they stayed and played. My mum swore that one of them gave us a wave before they set off to their next adventure. The adults were exhilarated. They spoke rapidly and waved their arms in the air trying to recreate the spy hops and twists they got to see right in front of their noses. I was shaking I was so scared, but I was also devastated. I brought the whales to the boat. The Universe gifted me this power and I blew it with my fear.

Photo by Silvana Palacios

I was obsessed with whales. I knew every species and different parts of their anatomy. I wore a whale tail necklace and dreamt of working at Sea World and training and riding the Orcas (before I understood that this was animal abuse). When we decided to travel to Maui in winter when the humpbacks migrate down to give birth, I felt it was my time.

It was a perfect Hawaiian day. I sat on the bow of the boat with my dad looking at the sapphire waters. Then we saw spouts of water off in the distance. I got giddy. It was happening. Here we go! “Why don’t you call them?,” my dad suggested,

Like most little kids, I believed I was a witch with powers who could manifest anything. Sure, I hadn’t gotten the boy in the front row to notice me yet, but other things seemed to happen. Like the day I was lonely for a friend and went outside and a girl was skateboarding down our hill. She became my neighborhood best friend.

So when dad said to sing, I believed with all my heart that I would bring the whales to us. I was ready.

“Whaaaales, whales. Whales come and play,” I belted. You need to be loud for them to hear you under water.

It happened within minutes. Three magnificent creatures swam right up to our boat. They were so grand that when they came up close you couldn’t get a clear picture of where any particular body part was. My whale anatomy expertise quickly went out the door. As did most of my logical thinking capabilities.

I was completely out of control. Not just physically, as my little body flung around the cockpit with each spin or fin wag.

I had called the whales. I was magic and it was terrifying.

I still remember the sheer relief I felt when they left and the waters settled back to crystal stillness. Even with the grownups jumping around and hooting and hollering, it was peaceful to be free of that responsibility.

“You called the whales!,” everyone clapped.

I no longer wanted to be a witch.

Later that night when it was time for bed, I was having flashbacks of the encounter and crying. I can’t remember if I woke up from a nightmare or if it began before I even closed down my eyes, but in an effort to settle me down and help me feel safe, my parents said something that would have even graver consequences than whales coming up to your boat.

“You didn’t call the whales. That’s called magical thinking.”

My “magical thinking” would be held against me many other times over the years. Especially in psychiatrists offices where it was brought up as evidence of how out of control I was.

The message was clear: You are not magic. You can’t manifest anything. You have no powers.

Come back to earth, child.

Photo by Felix Mittermeier

As a teenager, I continued to have supernatural experiences and intuitive hints that were beyond explanation, but rather than embracing my magic, I minimized the experiences and over time, I too started to doubt my ability to manifest.

The Secret felt like a privileged joke. “You’re going to ask for a Mercedes and it just appears? Yeah, right. Also, what about asking to end world hunger or stop all wars? Do we really need more wealth in the West when so many parts of the world are struggling?,” I would drunkenly pontificate to fellow happy hour goers.

I didn't only think “manifesting” was code for magical thinking, I started to think it was selfish.

But then my mom died, and the signs were too blaring to just be coincidental. There were so many signs. Dolphins and clocks and earrings and birds. It was incredible. It restored my faith in something bigger than me, but I still didn’t fully believe I was a co-creator in any of that magic.

Truth be told, even throughout all the years I dedicatedly made my vision boards and worked my Louise Hay affirmations, I still doubted.

Even when the exact things I envisioned came to fruition, I didn’t believe it.

I wasn’t magic. It was magical-thinking.

Recently, I have been restoring my trust and faith in Universe. I talk a good game in my yoga classes and I really do believe the texts and teachers that ensure the Universe has our back, but there’s still that rebellious teenager inside of me scoffing, “Yeah right,” when I do the practices for myself.

I’ve been sitting with her more and more lately. I understand her desire to dismiss.

How can we think we have any power when our whole lives we were told how “out of control” we are? It’s much easier to just be out of control.

I know now, two days into my fourty-second year: We are far from out of control.

We aren’t only in control, we are co-creators of our lives.

Every word we speak and every thing we think is energy put into the Universe. We are manifesting whether we want to or not. We are all magic and we all have the power to think magically.

As I metamorphose into this new phase of having kids instead of babies, and I enter this new, exciting era of redefining my business offerings, I am ready to embrace my magical thinking.

Magical thinking isn’t a myth or an act of selfishness. Magical thinking is simply another phrase for acknowledging the blessings coming your way.

If you doubt this, I invite you to step outside into nature.

How can we doubt magic when looking at such spectacular sunsets or peering up at breath-taking redwoods growing to such glorious heights?

Nature is magic and so are you.