My Most Important Magic
Let me start this off by saying that magic fucking works. The picture of my current situation above is testament to its weird efficacy. I got the idea for writing this back in Buffalo, and I’ve finished it in different parks around Raleigh, North Carolina now that I’m on my digital nomad adventure.
Of course, what one thinks of as magic is key here. When I was younger, I used to think that magic was always dark and spooky, often with ceremonial work and summoning spirits to do your bidding. Ordering more-than-humans around for my benefit — without reciprocity — always felt a bit exploitative to me, so I never really bothered with the ceremonial stuff.
However, I’ve come to realize that magic is inherently different for everyone. We’ve all got different strengths and interests, and sometimes it takes years to find or even understand them. Mine happen to be with nature spirits and spirits of place.
Nature Spirits and Spirits of Place
Hiking has been a huge interest of mine for going on twenty years, and I’ve been a pretty avid gardener for almost a decade. It’s these two things — often just considered “hobbies” in our culture — that have really unlocked and led to substantial magical results for me.
Oddly, hiking never really felt “magical” until recently, but I started working magic on hikes a few years ago. It actually began with pouring out the first part of my water to a city park that I used to frequent in Buffalo. It then branched out to offering water to spirits of place and nature at hiking parks.
I’ll be honest; it felt performative at first. I wasn’t really feeling much from it and didn’t think it was adding to much or really doing anything. However, that was before I did the inner work on understanding what a performance actually is.
Some of these offerings gradually changed shape and form. One of my favorite parks back home likes whistles instead of water. This spring, I was gifted a song. It came from this very standoffish crone spirit in another park, and I hum it as a greeting to her whenever I visit. I also hum it in other parks tying all of these places together ceremonially.
I’ve also developed a short prayer or a greeting that I say out loud that acknowledges plant friends, animal friends, more-than-human friends, local Native American and indigenous tribes, and general spirits of place.
These little offerings and rituals are easily my favorite magical acts. Conveniently, they’re also some of the easiest. Despite their ease, though, they’ve definitely packed a punch over time.
What Magic Has Brought Me
The last few months, I’ve been thinking a lot about what, if anything, magic has brought into my life. Can I say that my life is better for being a practicing magician?
Without a doubt, I never would’ve leveled up my nature and plant knowledge recently had I not started presenting offerings to the local spirits of place all those years ago. Thanks to gardening and this magic, I can now rattle off trees, flowers, herbs, and fruits that I see in the “wild” all the time. I never really feel alone in forests anymore now that I have so many friends who just so happen to be green. Lots of this has roots — no pun intended — in Braiding Sweetgrass by Robin Wall Kimmerer. If you haven’t read that book yet, do so. Soon.
The offerings I’ve described have led to a different understanding of the way my thoughts function in parks, too. I no longer see the thoughts I have as strictly things floating around in my head. The places I visit help put them there in so many ways, and the inspiration I’ve received while hiking recently has been literally life-changing. About four months ago while wandering around a fantastic park, I got the idea to try this new digital nomad adventure. I added some more ceremonial magic to the process, and after months of planning and preparation, it’s finally taken off. I’m currently writing this on a bench overlooking a lovely little lake in North Carolina directly because of the inspiration I received from spirits of place back home, and that inspiration came from recognizing their inherent animacy.
Magic doesn’t always need to be some complex, grand event. For me, it’s as simple as saying hello to a tree. But recognizing that trees are people with agency and value outside of a capitalist structure — that’s truly transformative. All of this has utterly up-ended my life in only the best of ways, and it’s obviously been fantastic magic.