Part of why I’m writing these posts for this website is to disavail people of the notion that psychicness is magic. I’ve tried to share experiences and insights about psychic ability that make it seem more plain and matter-of-fact than it’s usually presented. I realize that on some level that makes it unsexy; when people interact with psychics, they tend to gain excitement from a sort of mystic atmosphere.
The truth is, the atmospherics aren’t necessary. I can enjoy them, too, as a tone-setting element, but I don’t use them with my clients, as I prefer instead to telegraph that what’s going on is simple and pure. This is not to say that a psychic with a table of wands and crystals isn’t the real thing; not at all. It’s just not my style; I’m about directness. Still, if I wasn’t inclined toward magical perspectives, I wouldn’t be having the experience of four mystical silver wolves talking near my right ear. So without a doubt, I’m a weirdo. But the deeper I delve into my psychic abilities, the less “weird” I think they are…
A friend of mine once proposed that at a prior point in history, all of us were experiencing non-local consciousness; which is to say, all of us were embedded in a sort of naturally psychic approach to navigating reality. Only later, as we discovered time and built clocks and watches and started setting schedules and developing industry and orienting our days around tasks and goals and outcomes did our psychic capacities start drying up.
This makes perfect sense.
I’m not decrying the technologies and forms of order that make life more navigable and coherent for us. I’m just saying that psychicness seems to be in our basic hardware. To tap in and develop mine, I had to nurture a daily meditation practice, then practice reading a great many disparate people. It took time and experimentation, and I was lucky in the design of my daily life, which granted me room to meditate and experiment and grow. I’m not saying I had free time spilling out of my pockets, but had things been different – had I not worked from home, had I had a commute, had I not been habituated toward working as a writer, which itself is a form of meditation, as well as psychicness – I doubt all the pieces would have ultimately clicked into place. Interestingly, the more deeply I embrace my psychicness, the more sensitive I am to my physical surroundings. Bright lights bother me more. Crowds zap me harder. Travel is now more exhausting. My attachment to material objects, never dense to begin with, has become thinner than ever. Ditto my attachment to material constructs: institutions, organizations, customs, language, data. In other words, I had to become a kind of weirdo-shaman, living at the outer circumference, not embedding myself in groups or traditions, to allow my own psychic valve to open fully. The preconditions were there, in addition to the raw ability and curiosity.
Does any of that sound like magic?
Framing psychicness as “magic” sort of makes it sound exclusive. It’s only magic if your default mindset is magic-free. Which is to say: it’s only magic if you’re starved for a sense of divinity in your own life. (I hope you’re not. And if you are, believe me, that can be remedied…) But divinity is all around us and within us. Divinity is what we’re made of. We Are Magic, in other words.
With that in mind, psychicness is very, very ordinary.
