Do You Believe In Magic?

Entry #5: Realigning with the Wisdom of Your Inner Child

An audio recording is included as an invitation to experience the sacredness held within the voice (and tradition) of oral storytelling.  If it resonates, please enjoy at your leisure - maybe curled up with a warm cuppa tea or held within the wild embrace of the magical natural world that surrounds you.

Mo ghrá go léir / All my love,

Erica

‘A Treasure of Irish Fairy and Folk Tales’ (Barnes & Noble, 2016): Inside Cover Image.

…. na daoine maithe in Irish, another phrase for the fairies as it’s taboo to name them directly in our tradition…

Jennifer Murphy, Goddess & Fairy Queen Áine, Bringer of Destiny

Na daoine maithe.  It was about a year ago, when I heard this Irish phrase for ‘the good people’.  While it fell upon my ears for the first time; something within me knew the phrase well. 

My body knew the richness of its timbre. My spirit knew the rolling hills of its poetry.

Call it cellular memory or generational wisdom, the rhythm of these Irish words stirred a deep knowing within my blood and bones - awakening ancient memories within the marrow of me.

Memories that, I believe, my younger self has always known.

As a child, magic was a reality for me. 

The trees bore witness.
The wind whispered.
The rain cleansed.
The thunder awoke.
The animals spoke.
The angels danced within dreams and reality.
And the elementals of nature were alive and vibrant around me.

As a child, I remember my love for a particular lilac tree on the property. I would go to her when I needed a break from the loudnesses of life. Her perfumed presence offering a soothing sense of peace.

I remember the circle of trees that stood tall above me; calling them my library.  Keepers of nature’s wisdom and a doorway to play.

I remember talking to animals and giggling with the stories of the wind.

And in the summer months, I remember my love of dusk settling into the warmth of evening.  Hallowed and haunting. I could sense the stirring of unseen life around me.  Na daoine maithe awaking in excited anticipation of what would soon unfurl in the realm of a Midsummers Night’s Dream.

Six-year-old me; after losing my first tooth.

One of my favourite stories to tell from my childhood is of losing my first tooth. In the past, I’ve often told this tale playing for the punchline; poking fun at the ‘ridiculous rationalization’ of my childhood mind. However, the more I learn about who I am and where I come from, the more I realize my younger self was knowing, hopeful, and wise beyond belief - and that maybe her stories should be shared in honour of her.

While, I don’t recall the specifics around when I first watched the CTV special Tooth Fairy, Where Are You?, I do know the show left a lasting imprint on me.

Whether six-year-old Erica saw parts of herself in the unfortunate struggles of Dottie (a young tooth fairy longing to understand her magic), or as someone seeking to belong amoung other kids her age (like Lori, a young girl who didn’t quite fit in), something hit home within me.

At that age, I believed so deeply in the magic of reality, that after losing my first tooth, and holding that single looney swimming in gold ‘faerie’ dust (tied neatly in a small plastic baggie), six-year-old Erica also recalled the similar sparkles that fell from Dottie’s wings as she had passed her final tooth fairy examination.

I remember the line of thoughts: I’ll stand at the edge of my bed, throw Dottie’s magic dust into the air over my head, and then I’ll be able fly too! However, no matter how hard I flapped my wee arms, thump after thump my feet landed heavily upon the floor.

Unfortunately, try as I may, I never took flight that day.

The woman I am today, the woman coming home to the magic of land and spirit, the woman coming home to remembering and trusting the sacred embrace of the compassionate Otherworld, mourns for the parts of her younger self who must have felt confused after losing her tooth that day. My heart aches for the young girl who held an unwavering belief that: well, if Dottie can fly, I can fly too.

Images from 'Tooth Fairy, Where Are You?' (Lacewood Productions | CTV Television Network. 1991).

And while, I wish I could sit with that younger version of myself and tell her to keep believing in the magic of this world. It turns out, this part of me has never stopped believing.

Instead, it’s been my adult self that has longed and needed this reminding.

And recently, when this message was delivered to me, it arrived from across the veil.

A couple months ago, in anticipation of this piece, I went looking for a particular picture that captured the essence of the wise and wild child that I once was.

In the photo, I’m about five or six years old. The sun is setting on a warm summer’s evening in the Ottawa valley, as hues of pinks, purples, and blues dance across the river view. With my back to the camera, I’m seen running barefoot through the grass, delicately holding the edges of my floral dress, as the wind gently runs through the masses of my curly hair. I’ve spent an enchanting day amoungst nature and local artisans (in the company of my father and grandmother); but with dusk settling in, the magic of night beckoned to blanket the landscape once more.

I never found the photo. Instead, I came across my baby book, penned in my mother’s hand. With her having crossed the veil about four years ago, reading her writing bridges the gaps of time.

For some reason, I’ve always been the person that skips to the end of a book to read the last line. And on this day, baby book in hand for the first time, I turned to the last of its pages. Here, my eyes fall upon an additional entry, written years after I was born, where my mother tells her version of the story of when I lost my first tooth - and my connection to Dottie.

It’s not lost on me the poeticism of this life journey. I am continually in awe of how each revelation along the path of my dán, I am nourished in the reality of magic being all around me.

One mystical encounter at a time, lost soul parts come back home to my heart. And with each sacred reunion, my belief in magic [that of myself and the grace-filled Otherworld] becomes even more steadfast and rooted within me.

So, as this entry comes to a close, I wish to honour the story of my six-year-old self, and a tale of a tooth fairy, told in the words of my mother.

In doing so, my hope is maybe the timing of her message can be gifted forward - lifting another’s spirit as it did mine.

While also offering reflections of:

Maybe some of our wisest elders have always been a part of us. The younger versions of ourselves held within their wise, wild, and ancient embrace.

Maybe seeing the world from an awe-inspired perspective, that of a hopeful child’s heart, is (and has always been) a gift.

And maybe, magic is our reality - when we allow it to be.

Don’t ever stop believing in the all the magic of the world Erica, because it keeps us happy and hopeful inside. - Love Mom xo

Donna Rousselle, June 1995

A Story of Magic in Mother's Words (Donna Rousselle, 1995).

In this space, I would love to celebrate and honour the wisdom of your younger self, too.

With the invitations for reflection or simply speaking from the heart, I welcome you to share a story of your wise younger self below.

Together, let’s witness all the wonder and wisdom of our childhood selves.

What precious childhood encounter with magic would your younger self want you to remember?

What is wisdom your inner child would share with you today?

What glimmers of magic have you experienced in your life recently? What would your younger self have to say?

Until we meet in circle again, may grace and ease continue to find you.

Le dea ghuí / With good wishes,

Erica

Being of Irish and French ancestry, I continue to be reverently grateful to the traditional spirits and land keepers [past, present, and forth-coming] of the unceded and unsurrendered territory of the Algonquin Anishinabeg People; where I was born and currently reside.

Culture, language, and stories run within the rivers and are held within the stones of landscapes.  Míle buíochas, a thousand thanks, for the opportunity to live, create, share stories, and walk alongside you.

Interested in more information on 1:1 supportive offerings or my approach to sacred storytelling?

Please visit my website at Into the Circle with Erica O’Reilly for more information.

From the bottom of my heart, míle buíochas for sharing this journey with me.

If this is your first experience held within our corner of the Substack realm, I would love for you to continue alongside us - and if it resonates, invite a friend to come along!