What is this magic of which I speak?
What is this magic of which I speak? My wish for you to find your magic? This magic that people mention in testimonials? This word, ‘magic’, that seems to be associated with me and my work, even if I have moments that I’m not so sure it’s a fit?
Okay, it’s a fit. My memoir, Beyond All Imaginings, tells the tale of several years where being in the creative process through tragedy and loss opened the door to a realm of magic that may seem fantastical but is, in fact, true.
Rolling Stones playing on unplugged stereos? Yes. That kind of magic. Enchanted beings sharing their stories? Yes, that, too. Where connecting with family on the otherside becomes a normal? And can be for anyone? Yup. That. Where synchronicities lead to answers in our daily life? Yes.
This post isn’t meant to be about promoting my book but I’m sharing this here because my memoir does tell the story of magic and the creative process. And it does touch the hearts, and open a little door to magic, of those who read it.
“What an amazing book! Powerful story of tragedy, discovery and rebirth. I laughed and I cried and was so delighted with the magic! JL Whitehead please keep writing books!”
Herein lies my passion for all that I do; my knowing that the creative process – the way that people can access that brilliant part of them – is not simply a way to feel a little better in life. It’s the way, especially those creatively inclined, to open the doors to all that they can be, to find the answers to questions that otherwise can’t be answered. (Logic will never reveal the hugeness of who you are. It lives in the world of ‘fitting in.’)
And once that door is open, it doesn’t just stay open while you are writing, or painting, or potting, or singing, or inventing. The magic of it all becomes a part of your whole life. Synchronicities, insights, aha moments, and a contentment knowing that you are more than what we are traditionally taught we are – that extraordinary feeling that shifts us, fuels us, helps us find our way through struggles, brings us joy and makes life a way better and more magical place to be.
That’s the kind of magic I’m talking about.
“… It’s about smashed fingers, smashed dreams, smashed faeries and the value of throwing up your arms and saying “whatever.” It’s about impossible things being possible and Rolling Stones playing on unplugged radios. It’s about walking through walls and it’s about faerie sex; a chapter that nearly stopped me in my writing tracks. This is the true story of my life: The tragic loss of loved ones and the heart-wrenching grief; the magic of faerie-like beings showing up in my clay, on my pages, and in my home – which they did very much to my dismay, at least at first. And now, the faeries insist on blowing themselves up. This is the story that blurs your boundaries between reality and fantasy and leaves you wishing you could find your way into my world, albeit without the tragedies. As you can imagine, this has not been a simple story to write. Hell, if it were fantasy it would have been easy… but this is my life.”
