“You were born with wings, why prefer to crawl through life?” – Rumi
When I was very little, I believed in faeries and magic and God. I believed that I could talk to trees and that there were monsters in the little slice of darkness I could see through my bedroom door.
Leprechauns regularly left me pennies.
I always made the same wish for my birthday and I believed that if I wished hard enough, it would come true.
Then, a well-meaning teacher gave us a story to read. The moral of that story was, be careful what you wish for. And, like all really good stories, the message went deep into my soul and stuck there.
Words have magical powers.
I have a large collection of crystals and essential oils and perfume blends and books about wonder and mystery. I buy them for their intention, their metaphysical properties, their magic. But often they sit, unused. I have beat myself with that particular guilt stick over and over and over again, wondering why I hold myself back.
This morning, as I ran my hands over my perfumes, I hesitated over a tiny sample of a wishing blend. I’ve had it for over a year, and, apart from opening it to sniff, I have never used it. I was afraid of what I might wish for while I was wearing it.
I was too afraid of the repercussions to make a wish.
Ever since I read that story, my wishes have been diluted.
If I wish for something good for me, something bad will happen to someone else.
If I wish for something and get it, I may have missed out on something even better.
If I wish for something too much, I will only push it away.
The underlying wonder is that somewhere inside of me sits the unshakable knowledge that I am incredibly powerful, but I have become afraid of that power.
Have you heard it? Do you say it? Do you believe it?
Are you careful what you wish for?
Wrists and heart (and the tip of my nose!) anointed with the wishing blend, hands open on my knees, I held that little girl in love and understanding, and sent love to anyone else who was taught to be afraid of their power. I thanked and blessed the teacher for this perfect lesson at the perfect time, and I imagined erasing that story from my book. Then I wrote a new one:
If I wish for something from a place of my truth, do everything in my power to get it, hold the intention of the highest possible outcome for everyone, and follow the magic, anything is possible.
I call all of my power back to me. I delight in that power. I am big enough to hold that power. I’ve got this.
The change in my energy was immediate and I am still shivering with expanded possibilities.
Words have magical powers. Be full of care for what you wish for.
Go ahead. Make a wish.