Here’s a picture of my altar. This where I light a candle, burn sage for clarity, and meditate with crystals. Do I believe that the tarot will reveal my future? No. Do I believe that the chunk of pyrite will drop a million dollars in my lap? Not hardly. But when I’m scheming up big projects, sweating through the day, and crafting creativity into form, I need moments of beauty, focus, and believing in magic.
Ten years ago I worked at a metaphysical supply store in Asheville, NC. We sold all the accoutrements for a new age life and I got a crash course in all things woo-woo. I hung out with the labradorite and tourmaline while I perused the wisdom of the Caroline Myss and listened to Krishna Das.
One day a guy walked in to buy an amethyst because he heard it would help his aching knee. I thought to myself, are you kidding me!? As the dutiful sales clerk I showed him around the baskets of $2 tumbled stones until he felt “the right energy” with one. Meanwhile I thought, this guy needs a dose of squats, lunges, and hip mobility. As he checked out, I asked him if he had tried yoga or any sort of movement therapy. He liked the idea, popped the stone in his pocket, and I never saw him again.
I don’t have a problem with buying a magical stone, what worries me is thinking that our power exists somewhere outside of us. It’s like passively following medical authorities, popping a pill, and hoping for a quick, cure-all.
It’s easy to cut and paste a vision board but it’s a full-fledged construction project to build a new paradigm. All the magical, woo-woo stuff doesn’t do crap if you aren’t willing to do any work. So I’ll still sit at my alter and focus on the Strength card. But I know that the most magic potion of all is sweat.