I have always loved stories. For as long as I can remember, I have been surrounded by books. When I couldn’t discover by myself the wonders waiting for me, my parents would read to me before going to bed. Sometimes, we didn’t even need a book. My dad was the best at telling funny stories, making my sister and I laugh out loud and often ask for an encore before night time. My mom was as creative, and I have fond memories of all three of us in my parents’ bed in the morning, talking about Elizabeth and Meredith, the two young ladies my mom had invented to our greatest pleasure.
I had lots of books telling the stories of gnomes, elves and fairies, but my favorites were about witches. At six, I was already imagining my favorite characters and their magical world, drawing their clothes and dreaming about their wonderful powers. In elementary school, I followed every TV show I could find about nice witches, from Bewitched to the Worst Witch, not forgetting along the way Samantha the teenage witch. When Harry Potter came out, I was almost ten. I couldn’t wait for my eleventh birthday, as I was convinced that someone would come to tell me what I already knew: I was a witch myself, and I could finally get reunited with my siblings.
I waited, waited, but Hagrid never came to pick me up. At the same time, I was growing up, and as I was more and more confronted to the harsh realities of our world, I started to let go of the magical world and enter into a rational era.
Deep dive into the complexity of the Universe
The moment I let go of magic things started to go wrong. I was seeking meaning, purpose, and the more I was looking for it, thinking about it, the more I was moving away from it. I was completely relying on my brain power to get me through the difficult and complex questions most of us ask ourselves through teenage years: “Why are we here?”, “What is the meaning of life?”, “What am I going to do with myself?”.
As I couldn’t find any proper answer, I started losing hope, and appetite. What was the point of eating after all if nothing else made sense? I was disconnected, so far away from the united self promoted in yoga. I needed to find meaning before doing anything else: I wouldn’t get out of my dark cocoon, I wouldn’t eat, even when I was being forced to, before I had understood.
I went so deep I thought I would die. Seriously. I remember one night praying so hard to my grandmother, my guardian angel, to make my heart beat enough so that I could see the sun rise. I wasn’t myself anymore and I had no idea how to find my way back.
Until one day I got it. I wasn’t using the proper tool. I was expecting my mind to answer questions of my heart. The answer to my query couldn’t be intellectualized: it had to be felt. I had to undo everything and start over again. I had to start with my body first, nourishing it, so that my soul could eventually feel warm, so that my heart could open itself like a delicate primrose on the first days of spring. Love was the answer that had been there all along. Love was the way out of the dark deep pond I have been swimming through for the last couple of years.
The Wild Unknown
I now knew the answer, but still couldn’t apply it to my own personal life. I was so afraid of the vastness and intensity of love. I felt like a warrior who needed to protect himself all day, everyday. I refused to be vulnerable. I wouldn’t let anyone in.
I was practicing yoga at the time, but I did not feel strong in my body. I was practicing the way you walk, mindlessly. I’ve done it for years actually. I was running, biking, HIITing, and yoga was my way of releasing a bit of the suffering I was putting my body through.
Then I stopped. I stopped escaping, I stopped running away by literally stopping to run. I started practicing at home in the morning, doing pistols and handstands, having fun again. I started going to yoga almost daily, finally with the energy I was before putting into so many other things I wasn’t really enjoying.
And I grew strong. Stronger than ever. I discovered a new sense of self through this daily practice of asanas, a sense of union. This grounded body allowed me to open my heart more and more, not afraid anymore of being hurt. Letting myself being vulnerable, because vulnerability is what makes us human, as beautiful and fragile as we all are.
Beyond opening my heart, this new strength makes me feel more connected than ever to my intuition. No doubt in my mind that resisting the natural rounded shape of my belly for years was in the way of me benefiting from the impenetrable knowledge of my gut. Releasing it after years of restriction feels terrific. I now have access to the most efficient means to guide me through the day, but also to show me the way on the long term. Thanks to my microbiote and its 100 000 billions of bacteria.
This journey also taught me that the heart has its reasons that the reason ignores and life has its own idea of what will be the game plan. Magic is never far away, so I decided to have fun with it and let myself become the witch I’ve always wanted to be. I’ve bought myself a beautiful tarot deck that I can’t wait to start using. I will let my intuition guide me through the process, as I know that my powerful unconscious mind will let me speak the truth, and that whatever comes up at that moment when I pull a card will eventually makes sense.
Don’t worry, I promise I’ll be the nicest witch in town.