We are born mystics. Born magicians. And then we’re conditioned out of it — told what to think, what to believe, who to be, by people and systems that were themselves born out of one particular set of beliefs, attitudes and world views. It’s nobody’s evil plan. (I don’t think.) It’s just the water everyone’s swimming in.

But some of us, for one reason or another, seem to hold onto a wider truth — or wake back up to it. A truth that lives outside the set.

I should say what I mean by magician, because I don’t mean rabbits and hats. We’re animists. That’s what magicians are. We live in a conscious, breathing universe where the power to co-create flows through everything. Through stone and soil and sky. Through us.

The cost nobody mentions

If this is you, maybe like me, you didn’t choose this. Personally, I wanted to be a child psychologist, thank you very much — not this woo malarkey. It would seem some part of my system knew there was more satisfaction in another direction, and it dragged me into the mystical kicking and screaming when I was around 19 years old.

Living magically is a way of life, and it does come with a cost (as well as a heap of fun!)

It sets you at the edges of the systems you live in. Especially in the Western world. Society needs what you carry — I suspect it’s why so many of us are here right now — but it doesn’t yet know how to value it. So you learn to value yourself on purpose, without the applause that comes with a job title everyone recognises.

And the edge, it turns out, is the whole point.

Why the edge matters

You cannot change a set of beliefs while you’re living inside it. You need perspective from somewhere else. That’s what channelling is: a living, breathing relationship with the nonphysical. Guides in all their forms. Ancestors from the past and the future. From the stars and the soil. The beings we banished to folklore and fantasy, or insanity — which, when you think about it, is a very tidy way of blocking access.

They live in the same time as us, in a different space, outside the set. And from there they can show us feeling tones, states of being, new beliefs and thoughts, maybe skills — whole possibilities we simply cannot generate from inside — things I didn’t know were possible until they showed me.

The choosy ones

What surprised me most? They’re choosy.

The stone people, the water spirits, the guardians of the land — the resource there is rich, collaborative, never extractive, and it doesn’t seem to open for just anyone. Their world runs on a peace and a care for every living being that took my breath away the first time I felt it, and to hear them at all you have to come close to those qualities yourself.

Which is the parallel I find fascinating: the magicians this society doesn’t yet value are exactly the ones capable of valuing those other worlds. And valuing is the price of admission.

So if you’ve been out at the edges feeling unvalued — what if that’s placement, and it only feels like exile?

(You don’t have to feel called, by the way. The universe doesn’t mind one bit if you make rubber ducks in a factory. This is for the ones who do feel it — the pull to make a meaningful differerence.

Are you a bridge?

There are some of us who can (these are the best words I have for it at the moment) act as an axis mundi — a bridge between worlds — accessing these other dimensions for ourselves, for the people we care about, and for those we lead.

Learning to be that bridge is teachable. It’s called channelling, and teaching it is some of my favourite work on Earth.

If you want your own living, breathing relationship with your guides rather than my description of mine, the Channel Your Guide course is where most people start — and mentorship is where we go deeper, one to one.

In Love
Cara