Sharpening your spiritual senses

Happy Sunday, Soothers. I'm going to be totally honest, my pop culture/music/cultural radar is so decayed in the last decade and a half or so that if you had asked me who Rick Rubin was a few weeks ago, I would have known he somehow had something to do with... uh, music? But that would have been it. Then my boyfriend picked up Rubin's book, The Creative Act: A Way of Being, and I've been reading snippets here and there and really resonating with it. I don't think I've heard my own beliefs about creativity, and its link to spirituality and a sense of wonder, articulated so clearly and so in line with how I think creativity works, too. (Short version being that I find creativity one of the most spiritual acts you can engage in.)

There was one passage in particular I wanted to cite from Rubin on this line of thinking:

Art is our portal to the unseen world.

Without the spiritual component, the artist works with a crucial disadvantage. The spiritual world provides a sense of wonder and a degree of open-mindedness not always found within the confines of science. The world of reason can be narrow and filled with dead ends, while a spiritual viewpoint is limitless and invites fantastic possibilities. The unseen world is boundless.

The word spirituality may not speak to those who dwell chiefly in the intellect or those who equate the word with organized religion. If you prefer to think of spirituality as simply believing in connection, that's fine. If you choose to think of it as believing in magic, that's fine too. The things we believe carry a charge regardless of whether they can be proven or not.

The practice of spirituality is a way of looking at a world where you're not alone. There are deeper meanings behind the surface. The energy around you can be harnessed to elevate your work. You are part of something much larger than can be explained—a world of immense possibilities.

...Pay particular attention to the moments that take your breath away—a beautiful sunset, an unusual eye color, a moving piece of music, the elegant design of a complex machine.

If a piece of work, a fragment of consciousness, or an element of nature is somehow allowing us to access something bigger, that is its spiritual component made manifest. It awards us a glimpse of the unseen.

"Ahhh," I thought. "This Rubin fellow gets it."

Spirituality has not once ever been about religion for me; it's been about accessing these moments of meaning, of possibility, of magic, of connection, of delight, of beauty, of awe and wonder. And it is so goddamn rewarding.

At the same time, I deeply grieve that I went most of my life without this sense and my spiritual practices. That it was taken away from me.

You see, when I was a child, I would happily talk to butterflies; mix pots of berries and twigs and grass and leave them outside for the "tree witches;" see castles in the sky and fairies amongst the mushrooms; and hunt for magic rocks I would collect and store furtively.

I was, like all children, a magical being, deeply in touch with the potential and sparkle of life, nature and the universe that is inherently all around us.

That sense, unfortunately, gets dulled and dismissed and mocked over time as we grow into adulthood. But even as I trudged through the grind of a 9-5 life and adult expectations and obligations, that spark somehow never fully went out.

Somewhere, stored inside of my deepest reserves, I still believed in magic.

As I had my spiritual awakening in my late 30s and turned to Tarot, ritual, energy work and re-establishing that magical connection with nature that was so strong when I was a child, magic happily re-entered my life.

It had been waiting all along.

I started seeing animals — particularly birds — at the most synchronistic times. Eagles, owls, blue herons would come for visits.

As I learned Tarot, repeating cards would flip out over and over and over again in my practice, at first spooking, then delighting me with their wisdom and messages.

Meditation and journaling revealed parts of me to myself that I thought had long disappeared. That maybe I never knew existed.

I re-built my relationship with nature, communing with the trees and flowers in sacred joy.

A cherished quote of mine is this one from W.B. Yeats:

"The world is full of magic things, patiently waiting for our senses to grow sharper."

I began to realize that all along, the universe had been waiting for me to re-connect with it. It had never left me, that magic and sense of support.

It was patient. It was waiting for my senses to sharpen so I could simply see it again, as I had as a child.

If you suspect there are magic things waiting to be seen by you, I invite you into Practical Spirituality, my course to learn about spiritual tools and tactics, helping you cultivate a personal reflection practice, form a sacred connection to your inner and outer worlds, and enjoy a more mindful, intentional, and maybe even more magical life.

The early bird price of $197 goes up to $297 on February 16th, so get on in there and start to sharpen those senses.

The magic things are waiting for you. I can't wait to show you how to connect with them.