Tarot Lesson of the Week - The Magician
Welcome to Scorpio season. Are you ready to own your creative power? Read more here!
By Chelsea Mancini
By Chelsea Mancini
Recognize your own magic
I moved to Boston eight years ago.
Eight years ago, I was a very different person living a very different life. I knew deep within me it wasn’t where I would be in the future. I was unhappy. I was scared. I lacked confidence and conviction. I lacked a relationship of reciprocity with myself.
I would often attempt to escape reality by hiding in bookstores and cafes. I’d retreat into the shelves, into the quiet and calm. I’d retreat into the pages of a book that promised to teach me how to be better, do better, have more.
I think I knew in my soul that I was running. There were many actions I could have been taking to improve my situation. Physically I was more than capable of doing so. But energetically and mentally I didn’t believe that any of it would actually help. I didn’t yet know how to deal with the ghosts and the fears that lived deep in my unconscious and kept me paralyzed in a state of fear and lack.
And so the books were there for me. I’d buy a baked good from the café — one of the few things I’d eat all day. I’d sit and I’d read, because I couldn’t afford to actually buy the book and take it home. I also didn’t want to go home. Because who knew if the lights or the Wi-Fi would even be on. The bookstore was safety and possibility.
I would read and the books would tell me to figure out what I truly wanted. If I had the money I desired, what would I do? If I could do anything with my time, what would it be?
And I would think to myself: “I’d love to do exactly what I’m doing right now, minus the fear and the running and the avoiding.”
I wanted to be allowed the freedom to drink coffee and read books whenever my heart desired, without the foreboding feeling that as soon as I stepped outside those walls I’d be met with the crushing weight of reality. I wanted to feel freedom, safety, and excitement.
That was eight years ago, and it feels like an entirely different lifetime.
Time is a funny thing. It passes, and life goes on, and somewhere along the way, you become a new person.
I almost forgot today’s anniversary. But my subconscious asked me to remember. It brought me back eight years ago, and I remembered that girl. That scared yet hopeful version of myself. I felt sympathy for her. I felt proud of her. And so, I took her to the bookstore.
We got a coffee. We roamed the shelves. And I bought her every book her heart desired. Because somewhere along the way over the last eight years, she fulfilled her dream.
She became the person who can sit in a bookstore on a random afternoon and feel secure in knowing that she is safe. The lights will be on when she gets home. She doesn’t need a cheap muffin because she has plenty to eat (but she can have it if she wants). She can even buy the books and bring them home.
She kept going even when she was surrounded by darkness and uncertainty. Her desires lived in her heart, until eventually, they were all around her.
And then I thought about who I might be in another 8 years. What will that version of myself look back and see? I sent that future version of myself love and gratitude, because I know she’s realized dreams even this present-day version of myself hasn’t thought to dream yet.
Over the last eight years, I didn’t even realize the creative power and magic I was wielding. I hope over the next eight years I never forget.
By Chelsea Mancini
Eight years ago, I was a very different person living a very different life. I knew deep within me it wasn’t where I would be in the future. I was unhappy. I was scared. I lacked confidence and conviction. I lacked a relationship of reciprocity with myself.
I would often attempt to escape reality by hiding in bookstores and cafes. I’d retreat into the shelves, into the quiet and calm. I’d retreat into the pages of a book that promised to teach me how to be better, do better, have more.
I think I knew in my soul that I was running. There were many actions I could have been taking to improve my situation. Physically I was more than capable of doing so. But energetically and mentally I didn’t believe that any of it would actually help. I didn’t yet know how to deal with the ghosts and the fears that lived deep in my unconscious and kept me paralyzed in a state of fear and lack.
And so the books were there for me. I’d buy a baked good from the café — one of the few things I’d eat all day. I’d sit and I’d read, because I couldn’t afford to actually buy the book and take it home. I also didn’t want to go home. Because who knew if the lights or the Wi-Fi would even be on. The bookstore was safety and possibility.
I would read and the books would tell me to figure out what I truly wanted. If I had the money I desired, what would I do? If I could do anything with my time, what would it be?
And I would think to myself: “I’d love to do exactly what I’m doing right now, minus the fear and the running and the avoiding.”
I wanted to be allowed the freedom to drink coffee and read books whenever my heart desired, without the foreboding feeling that as soon as I stepped outside those walls I’d be met with the crushing weight of reality. I wanted to feel freedom, safety, and excitement.
That was eight years ago, and it feels like an entirely different lifetime.
Time is a funny thing. It passes, and life goes on, and somewhere along the way, you become a new person.
I almost forgot today’s anniversary. But my subconscious asked me to remember. It brought me back eight years ago, and I remembered that girl. That scared yet hopeful version of myself. I felt sympathy for her. I felt proud of her. And so, I took her to the bookstore.
We got a coffee. We roamed the shelves. And I bought her every book her heart desired. Because somewhere along the way over the last eight years, she fulfilled her dream.
She became the person who can sit in a bookstore on a random afternoon and feel secure in knowing that she is safe. The lights will be on when she gets home. She doesn’t need a cheap muffin because she has plenty to eat (but she can have it if she wants). She can even buy the books and bring them home.
She kept going even when she was surrounded by darkness and uncertainty. Her desires lived in her heart, until eventually, they were all around her.
And then I thought about who I might be in another 8 years. What will that version of myself look back and see? I sent that future version of myself love and gratitude, because I know she’s realized dreams even this present-day version of myself hasn’t thought to dream yet.
Over the last eight years, I didn’t even realize the creative power and magic I was wielding. I hope over the next eight years I never forget.
By Chelsea Mancini
