An Invitation to Magic
Seeing is believing.
There’s a rare and beautiful feeling when someone glimpses a part of your inner world—something you believed only you could know.
Two weeks ago, I was in Lisbon and attended a Family Constellations session. It wasn’t something I’d planned on, but from the moment I met this person, I knew I had something to learn from him. We’d crossed paths before—twice, of all places, at my dentist’s office—and I already knew he could sense things most people couldn’t.
As the session began, he casually mentioned, “Your guide is standing behind your chair, smiling.” I was taken aback—how could he know that? I could feel his presence too, but I was astounded that someone else could see him. Then, he added, “You have many fairies in your hair and around your head.” A spark ignited inside me. “You can see them?” I asked, almost jumping out of my chair with excitement.
I’ve often seen my fairies and guides in my dreams. They are my faithful companions, joining me on countless adventures. But in the waking world, I can’t always see them, even though I can sense their presence. I sometimes catch fleeting glimpses of light or movement from the corner of my eye, but nothing clear enough to convince me they’re real. I had started to wonder if perhaps they didn’t want me to see them.
The facilitator must have sensed my thoughts because he looked at me thoughtfully and said, “They really want you to see them. You just can’t because you don’t believe you can.”
My eyes filled with tears. They also want me to see them! I was overcome with joy and sadness at the same time. Could it be that simple? Could my doubt be the only thing standing in the way of such a magical encounter? The idea that my own disbelief had kept me from seeing what was right in front of me was both humbling and liberating.
He went on to describe something even more remarkable—an image so vivid and familiar that it took my breath away. “You’re in a beautiful garden, surrounded by flowers and fairies,” he said. “You’re wearing a puffy dress, and you look so happy.” He described it in astonishing detail—the types of flowers, the fountain, the dress, the grand building in the center of the garden.
I couldn’t contain my excitement. That was my scene—the one I had drawn again and again as a child. Hearing him describe it was like reconnecting with a part of myself I’d long buried.
As a child, my world was filled with magic. My mother had given me a book called The Book of Faeries, and I was enchanted by it. I would spend hours learning about their habits and preferences, building tiny houses and leaving little offerings, hoping to catch a glimpse of a fairy. But as I grew older, I became embarrassed by my fascination. Magic didn’t belong in the “real world.” Slowly, I let that part of myself fade away. The book disappeared, and the magic went with it—or so I thought.
But as I left the session, my heart felt lighter, as though something had shifted deep within me. It felt like I had cracked open a door to something I didn’t realize I’d been waiting for. Little did I know, the universe was about to lead me to the next step in this unexpected journey.
The next day I made a new acquaintance who promptly invited me to visit a small, esoteric bookshop. I agreed, feeling an inexplicable pull.
As I browsed the shelves, my eyes landed on a single, worn copy of The Book of Faeries. I smiled at the “coincidence” but didn’t pick it up. Instead, I asked the shop owner, “Do you have any books on dragons?”
He hesitated before scanning the shelves. When he returned, he placed The Book of Faeries in my hands. “No books on dragons,” he said with a smile, “but here’s a book about fairies.”
I stood there, holding the book that had once meant so much to me, marveling at the sheer improbability of it all. But I knew it was no coincidence. It was a sign —a confirmation that magic is real. But more than that it was an invitation from the universe to believe again. To see again.
What I hadn’t realized was that the universe had been offering me these glimpses all along. I was only now learning to open my eyes and heart wide enough to truly see them.
I also took it as an invitation to share it with the world, to reawaken that long-lost memory of the wonder that once filled every child’s heart.
So, I share this story with you now, in the hope that it sparks something inside you too—that you may once again see the magic that surrounds you, even in the most ordinary moments. So that you may look at the world with new eyes, eyes that can see beyond what we’ve been taught is possible.