The famed psychiatrist and hypnotherapist Milton Erickson had an interesting theory about what it means to lose something. Erickson would say that if he lost or mislaid something there was no need to be concerned. He trusted that his unconscious mind had arranged the whole situation to his ultimate benefit. If it were meant to be, the lost item would be found again in time. If it were better never found, then he would go with that, too.
This is an extremely attractive attitude, and very magical. Such an attitude enables one to navigate the inevitable ups and downs of life with grace, aplomb, and humor. The less resistance I inflict on the web of Wyrd, the less resistance it inflicts on me. The more lightly and playfully I dance with it, the more lightness and play I will get to enjoy.
I have had numerous synchronicitous experiences in recent days that specifically emerged out of my willingness to be playful, open, and accept what is rather than try to force it into my psychologically authoritarian urge to say, “but it SHOULD!” And others have said to me, “that’s magical;” “you’re doing magic!” And I have to say, “yes, but there is no trick: magic is just a state of mind.”
Just? Of course, the word “just” in the statement above is disingenuous. As though mind was somehow secondary, second-rate, seconded into the halls of mere trifledom? If mind is a mere empty concept then so is matter; spiritualism’s demise is also materialism’s. We were not put here to ponderously get to the bottom of things, but to romance the enigma of existence – and the enigma of existence appreciates a light touch.
So when I am told that my ability to playfully-be-in-the-right-moment-at-the-right-time (a very loose English translation of wu wei I suppose) is magical, I play along, I even denigrate myself slightly, add a pinch of irony, a twist of a smirk. Because if I can help someone start to believe in magic, in the possibility that a light touch has more impact than the heaviest pressure, well that’s lovely. Because now that person is participating in a magical mode with me, and now they too have the virus of light playful being-here-now.
Milton Erickson was not a believer in grand occult theories, bizarre mystical explanations, or obscure legends. In his spare time he made a hobby of debunking psychics and mediums. Yet when we read accounts of his approach to life, we are astounded at what a consummate magician he was. Erickson, the materialist, was more clairvoyant than most clairvoyants. The lesson is simple: it isn’t what beliefs you burden yourself with. It is whether you are willing to playfully embrace whatever may come.
While I still like to do sigil magic and try to manipulate the odd scenario here or there, I am moving much more toward a model of magic that is minimal, stripped down, spontaneous. Rather than try to force reality to wrap itself around me, I am learning how to be in the right place at the right time, with the right attitude and a hint of gratitude. Empty handed magic has been a life-long goal (who needs all that pompous drama?!), and now I wonder if empty-minded magic is even better. Empty magic. Emptiness.
Ah, but that brings us to the pleroma. It brings us to the Ginnungagap. And there, in that whirling vortex of All and None, the enigma of existence herself awaits. As the Delphic Oracle enjoined, “Give up what thou hast and then thou wilt receive.” As Erickson rejoined, “what is easiest to see is often overlooked.”
Postscript:
After I wrote this article, I saved it. Then an error screen came up. “What?” I said in a leaden tone. Then I remembered, “oh if my article just got deleted, it will be to my ultimate benefit, cool!” Then I hit refresh, and the article was still there, only now it has this postscript, which makes me more satisfied with it. Even the threat of a setback (or a setback proper) can make one happier if one has the right orientation.
