Is catastrophe magic?
“Magic, in my mind, is an event that happens outside of imagined possibility. Magic is wonderous, exciting, and perhaps a little suspect. Magic defies its context. ”
We tend to think of magic with positive connotations—we like magic. We want magic in our lives. Magic is well, magical.
When we leave room for magic, we get “wonderous and exciting” things like marriage proposals from eligible royals. (I mean, sure, I turned him down, but I was flattered to be asked.)
When we leave room for magic, we also get “suspect” things that might look decidedly like not magic. Unpleasant, challenging, and awkward things like jury duty.
Stay with me here
Anything that happens “outside of imagined possibility” will initially seem catastrophic, seem like a sudden turn that brings a dramatic ending. For example, yesterday’s call to jury duty felt shocking and catastrophic in the first few moments of being empaneled. All of my plans for the day, the weekend, and the following week came to an immediate and unanticipated and puzzling halt.
Is catastrophe, catastrophe?
We live in a hyperbolic world where a disappointing dessert can become a birthday cake “horror story” and a hotel room with a view of the parking lot rather than the pool can lead to ruined vacations and law suits. We are quick to label unplanned events that we do not like as catastrophic when perhaps we should recognize them as simply a new context.
I was not expecting that
I’m not suggesting that we find the “silver lining” in catastrophe and call it magic—yay, my house burned down so now I can build a new one—but rather experience what the new context makes room for us to do.
With jury duty taking my entire working day—9 to 4:30–with a commute on each end, I leave my house at 7:30 and get home at 6pm. I cannot spend hours each day prepping and grading my classes, writing daily blogs, building my second web site, finishing the copywriting course I purchased, engaging with the business incubator I joined, and managing the details of life. Yet, last night, when I got home from jury duty, I worked on almost all of those things. And had dinner with my family then watched a television show with my teenager.
I couldn’t, but I did.
I’ve also added 40 minutes of walking to my day as part of my commute and am using my 9-4:30 workday constraint to support a more conscious eating plan.
How did I have room for that?
At the start of the month, as I journaled on my Mercedonius theme, I shifted between “leaving” and “making” room for magic. What I see now is that magic makes its own room whether I leave room for it or not—I just have to be ready to make use of whatever comes out of the hat.
