Kneading a New Perspective

It is always a moment of epiphany to catch oneself living in the rut of a prerecorded, mental dialogue. For instance, at breakfast with Val today, I recited what has become my mantra, an automatically spoken summary of my life: "I need a job; I need a leg; I need a car; and I need . . ." here my voice trailed off as I almost said, "I need a man." But I realized in the saying that such was no longer the case. In fact, I'm not even sure I want a man anymore. Don't get me wrong; if somebody open, honest, committed and brave came along, I would definitely put bubbles in his jacuzzi. It's just that I am not searching desperately any longer. In fact, it almost seems that a man would just be a matter of convenience, something to cross off my list so that I could stop ogling.

Which made me think about other recordings I play in my mind. After all,

words are magic.

So often the speaking of a thing makes it true or concrete. The very simplest example of this is right before your eyes: my blog. Frequently, I don't know how I feel about a topic until I get going (as now) and the concise, clear truth spills out onto the screen. A more profound example of this magic is the actual speaking of words with the intent to influence reality--a declaration of intent, for instance. This is why the tradition of so-called magic spells nearly always involves incantation, and why preces and response is such an effective part of group worship. In fact, one can discern much about a congregation--even about the leader of a congregation--by the unity with which they recite whatever portion of their ceremony requires spoken participation.

The most fascinating discussion of words as magic, however, is surely in the Bible: The Word, the incarnation of God, was not only the first thing created--and created through the very speaking--but was also necessary to all subsequent creation: "God said, 'let there be light,' and there was light," for example (Gen 1:3). Although there is a serious question in my mind about whether this word has an identity (Jesus? Seems unlikely . . .), it is this power which I desire to tap.

I have personally experienced the same phenomenon described in Genesis. I have experienced a shiver running through the universe at the speaking of magic words like a wind running across the surface of the Earth. I don't know what I tapped into on those occasions, but my experience was that the entire room cracked open, and people shifted immediately. The power of the profound jolt which rings through me like electricity when I speak from my spirit may be unfamiliar due to your removal from the experience, dear reader, but take my description for it: there is a powerful, physical sensation that accompanies real words. I am confident that this is the source of what is commonly called magic.

It is therfore imperative that I record over the unhealthy tape loops that I catch myself repeating: I am unhappy, nobody loves me, I am a bad man, etc.. Not only are they baldly false; they work themselves into existence with each repetition. Which brings me to the healthy declarations I (try to) make regularly; imagine me saying these aloud as you read them:

My contract with myself (a spell to ground myself in my being):
I am a brilliant, insighful, emotional, spiritual man.

My contract with the universe (a spell to retrieve myself from materialism):
I am a child of God, and I am sustained by the light of the universe. I forfeit all other claims.

My Mission Statement (a spell to clarify decisions):
Through my loving, powerful spirit, I drive fear out of the hearts of children and awaken the child in the hearts of adults

Words are magic, dear reader. You and I can alter existence through writing, and even more through committed, charged, and connected speech.