My grandma believes in energies. In the way that other people know there are radio waves, and millions of conversations floating over cities as they travel to each other, she believes in invisible energies traveling through the ether. Energies that are all around. And she is not the only one in my life who believes this. A while back, a friend scooped up a handful of ocean water on a clear day as we waited for small, choppy waves, and said to me: “This is all energy, Natalie.” Not a month ago, a friend in a bar said: “I believe in energies.” I’ve had people tell me they felt my energy. That I had a “beautiful energy” or a “conflicted energy.” A little Japanese woman told me my energy was an indigo blue. “There’s gray for your worry,” she said. She also told me I had spiritual guides, and one of them was Mongolian with a heavy frame of fur around his face which is nothing short of bad-ass.
It’s an interesting thought: that each person gives off an energy. And a step further, that other things, like an anxious co-worker, or an approaching collie, can change your energy for better or worse.
There’s a couple who lost their 17-year-old son in a tragic car accident, and their son donated his organs to different people. The man who got his heart met with the boy’s parents on the road where their son was killed. What kind of energies are floating around there, I wonder?
I consider myself to be a pretty open-minded person. So I’ll admit it: there is sage in my kitchen. I have sat with my hands on my stomach, right hand over left, following along in an aura book requesting that light from some source “down ray” to heal me. And though you won’t find me – probably – at the 8:30 p.m. chakra class at Yoga Six, I think this kind of thinking is like putting a train back on its tracks when it’s derailed. For me, at least, it can be. Because in the routine, the mundane, the habit of the day-to-day, plus twenty-eight years of disappointments, heartbreaks, and general annoying things that you have to deal with as an adult like smog tests, the idea that energies are real, and that there is something out there maybe looking out for me, gives me some magic back. And magic, these days, for me, is in short supply.
Sometimes, I don’t know why I am here. And there is a lot I carry around with me. What I like about this idea, is how it 1) makes me think the universe is on my side (and I’ve heard that’s important to believe), and 2) it reminds of me of the magic in the world. And maybe I have to dig for it. Magic. When I walk out to my car, and really look at the moon. When I read about people doing senselessly kind things for each other. Maybe I have to dig for magic. For faith. For what is real. But I think we should be digging for it and reminding ourselves to do that. As much and as often as we can.