My Years of Magical Thinking.

And how I use magic now.

Once upon a time in a warehouse-turned-church-auditorium not that far away, I was a teenage girl who believed in magic. The magic of a God who loved me, who was always there to give me victory over emotions or head colds and reveal his perfect will for my life. The magic of a God who parted the red sea for Moses and who was available to provide parking spots in shopping centres. I believed in the fantasy of Frank Peretti’s angels and demons, present at all times, influencing people’s actions and behaviours (I was counselled to anoint the doorways of my house with oil to keep my mother’s new age demons at bay).

I believed in the mighty power of God to protect his own from Satan who was roaming the earth seeking to trick me. I believed the earth was 6000 years old. I believed in a literal heaven where we sang worship songs for eternity with the faithful, and a literal hell, a place of eternal conscious torment for unbelievers; and in the skies turning red when Jesus returned on a white horse. I believed one of our pastors who told and retold the story of how he raised someone from the dead.

Less dramatically, (and with a great deal of nostalgia), I remember the tenderness of belief in God’s presence, of being known. His eye is on the sparrow the Bible says, he was always there to watch over me. It settled and calmed me.

As wild as it is to write these things now, I needed it all to be true so badly. I have a complicated relationship with the way it was exactly what I needed and caused me immense harm.

I’ve quoted trauma expert Gabor Mate many times, he says we trade authenticity for belonging. I had no true sense of who I was in my magical thinking but I was desperate to belong. I learnt to shape shift and created a God of my imagination, as everyone who believes in a god of any kind does.

We can’t know for sure if gods or deities, spirits or the supernatural are real and so we take ancient texts and frameworks for belief, the words and practices of those who have gone before us, and live by them. This has cultural, community and power dynamics of course, and aligns with who we want to be in the world, how we want to be loved and accepted and where we want to feel safe. It’s often many generations strong and grounds us to place and people.

To say I created a God of my imagination may sound patronising to those who remain in their faith, but it’s not my intention to be condescending. Rather, to acknowledge that’s what we all do, and it doesn’t make God any less real or powerful to our brains and bodies. We are hardwired for spirituality.

But it does mean that God often looks like us. We create systems and frameworks that suit our ideologies and allow us to hold onto power in an uncertain world. We find ways to justify this and believe we are on the winning side. Certain people/groups become scapegoats. Issues that aren’t issues become obsessions for Kingdom purposes. Influence is sought to usher people in, alignment with the powerful (or those deemed strategic for the cause) is important.

It’s why it’s so painful when cognitive dissonance sets in and things no longer make sense. When critical thinking no longer allows us to overlook people’s dignity and treat them as projects for salvation or service. Or when we can’t hold on to faith that everything will be ok when everything is not ok. It is well with our souls until it really isn’t.

It has not been well with my soul these last few weeks. I’ve felt the heaviness of global events in ways that have caused me to want to run and hide.

In my years of magical thinking I would have known I was going to be ok because I was one of the favoured ones under God’s protection. I was safe under angels’ wings and could trust God to provide all I needed. Without this assurance I still sometimes feel vulnerable and scared. But I now know this was magical thinking. It was created.

I know this because what I once believed doesn’t hold up.

I know this because there are people of faith whose way of being in the world is so different, healthy, generous, loving. Their God looks like them in this way.

I also know I can create something new. Something life-giving and generative. Something softer and less about white-knuckled control.

How I Use Magic Now.

I call it magic because that’s what it feels like to create a reality. Extra ordinary, yet so available. It’s wondrous that we can create our worlds with our thoughts and imaginings. It’s powerful. We do it every day. You’re doing it now as you read and interpret my words.

Try this. Imagine spending hours making a beautiful meal with love, only to have it smash on the floor along with thousands of shards of pyrex as it slips out of your clunky oven mitt. (I would cry!).

Now try the opposite, imagine the gorgeous table you’ve set, perhaps there’s flowers in a vase, and you’re serving that beautiful meal made with love, to your people. What was different? Where did it change in your body? What did you notice?

I felt my shoulders drop and a warm feeling in my chest at imagining the second example. Our nervous system follows our thoughts, which is why presence can be such a useful skill. Being here now rather than somewhere else in our minds in a hypothetical future, or a painful past, can make our bodies feel grounded and steady.

Magical thinking for me now is about going smaller, the bigger the overwhelm. The world is going through labour pains as systems and institutions are failing, as the planet is dying and we are feeling the impact of power shifts. I find this terrifying and hopeful. I hope we are being birthed into something new and more aligned with our goodness.

Of course there has always been cycles of death and rebirth and powers that marginalise and oppress. There have been horrors and hatred and “wars and rumours of wars”. I’ve worked in conflict zones and seen apocalyptic damage post-disaster. But when we see ourselves, (not just others in far away places), reflected and impacted in new ways that feel out of our control, things can get scary quickly. We saw this during Covid and we’re seeing it now.

The recent work of Sarah Wilson is not for the faint of heart. It has been clarifying for me in terms of what matters. Read with care. She references becoming Islands of Sanity amidst of the chaos. I want to be an Island of Sanity. Calm. Measured. Able to regulate others as needed. Able to regulate myself. Turning towards love. I want you to be an Island of Sanity too. This is our work.

Outrage and fighting online (and IRL) is a distraction. Arguing and feeling overwhelmed is the point. If we are foggy headed and angry we find it harder to come home to ourselves. We are useful to their cause as we doomscroll and become dysregulated while they create a world in which power is only for the rich and people who look like them.

I said the antidote is getting smaller. I didn’t mean by suppressing emotions and being small, but by putting your device down and looking around your physical space. Are you objectively safe right now? Ground yourself in that safety with a few deep breaths or by moving your body around. You may have heard me say before, my mantra is often, right now, in this moment, I’m ok.

Who is your community? It will become increasingly about geography I think. How can you create new relationships, look out for people, allow them to look out for you? How can you do this in spaces where you live and work?

What regulates you in your space? My yellow lamp makes me happy, the rosemary bush I propagated from my mother’s garden makes me smile. Lighting a candle makes me feel contemplative. Today I bought rocket and basil seedlings for my garden and settled myself with their earthy smells.

Magical thinking now lets me daydream about walking in Switzerland in spring, about swimming way out to sea with dolphins, about learning to renovate the old chairs that sit in my garage. Imagination, play and daydreaming use the part of the brain that shuts down anxiety. As Bayo Akomolafe says, the times are urgent, let us slow down.

Slowing down and being grounded is how we will respond and find solutions to our biggest challenges. Community is where we find connection and the courage to be seen. We are not discounting our reality, rather creating the conditions to be present to it. So we can ask, and answer, as Deeper Iyer suggests, what’s my role today?

Other Helpful Things…

I highly recommend Beyond Anxiety, the latest book by Martha Beck. I downloaded it, then bought a hard copy for myself and one for my daughter. I’ve been telling my clients about it.

She encourages us to imagine our anxiety, whether it’s existential or personal, as a creature. A sweet, vulnerable creature that feels scared. How would you approach that creature? Would you raise your voice and tell it to harden up and stop feeling anxious or would you stroke it gently perhaps and get down on its level, speaking with soft tones?

She also references Internal Family Systems which is a beautiful approach to therapy that assumes the truest parts of us are Compassionate - Calm - Connected - Clear - Curious - Creative - Confident and Courageous. When we work with our anxious parts from these C’s, our truest parts, we can more safely feel our emotions from there.

If you asked your anxious creature what she was feeling, she may say scared or sad, powerless or angry. Your C’s can calmly, compassionately, courageously be present for these feelings. Perhaps with a side of curiosity that could lead to creative ways to respond. We blend our ‘parts’ in this way, the parts feeling scared and the parts feeling like you could be an Island of Sanity. We become more integrated.

Another summer read was Focussed Forward. Navigating the Storms of Adult ADHD. Therapist James Ochoa describes the emotional distress of ADHD as Emotional Distress Syndrome, with intensity of feeling likened to PTSD, but without an event. A creative antidote he uses personally and in his practice is creating an emotional safe place in your mind.

He goes deeper into the neuroscience of imagination to settle us, anytime, anywhere. Try it now - imagine your emotional safe place, it can be real or made up, it can have all your real or dreamt-up favourite things, the best food, the comfiest chairs. The most wonderful friends. Go into as much detail as you can access. You could have gentle, talking elks wearing flower crowns that serve you sparkling water in crystal glasses hanging from their antlers. Anything is allowed, everything is possible here.

Mine has an open fire and an enormous window overlooking a majestic lush expanse of fir trees and wildflowers. There’s an incredible sunset and the music I hear is from a live band gently playing stringed instruments and percussion at the bottom of the valley. Its effect on my body is like bubbles in my blood stream. I’m smiling and laughing with friends. Then as the northern lights dance around the sky, I sleep deeply, waking to a generous breakfast, coffee made just how I like it. I look out at the early morning sun as the steam rises from my cup and relax as I inhale the crisp morning air. I grab a book and settle in to an enormous, cobalt-blue velvet recliner. This beautiful place also cleans itself.

Now that’s magical.

If you’d like to work with me in counselling you can get in touch here.

Go gently into your imagination.

Warmly,

Jane

PS. Havening Techniques® are a powerful psychotherapy tool I use to help settle anxious parts and heal trauma, allowing us to be Islands of Sanity if you will. If you’d like to know more you can read here.