Open to Magic
The Magic of Possibility
Yesterday it occurred to me that magic isn’t the act itself.
Magic is the openness.
Open to the possibility of magic.
Open to what could be.
Open to the unexpected.
Open to answers arriving without even knowing the question.
That’s where magic lives.
Magic is believing—in yourself, in the universe, in God—that you are held.
That you have your own back.
That you will do the next right thing.
That you can live with love and pray with sincerity.
That you can seek understanding and clarity rather than demand answers.
We tend to look for absolutes.
But absolutism shuts everything down.
It stops the flow of energy.
The flow of creativity.
The flow of possibility.
When everything feels final and fixed, there’s nowhere for hope to move.
And that’s often where struggle hardens into hopelessness.
Many years ago, I played with an acronym for hope:
H.O.P.E. — Having Other Possibilities to Explore.
It never really caught on—not because it wasn’t true, but because I wasn’t yet consistent in sharing the message. Still, it has stayed with me.
Because when you no longer believe there are other possibilities to explore, hope collapses.
“This is it.”
“There are no options.”
“This is final.”
But hope—real hope—means something can still change.
Even when something feels dire.
Even when something feels like an ending.
And yes, there are moments where that feels confronting—like when facing death itself.
We are all dying, dear ones.
We just don’t know the expiration date.
Sometimes we get a heads-up.
Sometimes we don’t.
And while we could debate the pros and cons of each, let’s stay with hope.
Most people, when faced with the end, define “other possibilities” as medical ones:
Have I run out of treatment options?
But what else could be possible in your final weeks… days… months?
You could show people—clearly and boldly—how much you love them.
You could put your affairs in order and tie up loose ends.
You could say the things you’ve been holding back.
You could do the things you always wanted to do but never made time for.
That is hope.
That is having other possibilities to explore—rather than simply waiting for the exit to open.
And I don’t want this to be heavy or focused on death, because magic shows up everywhere.
This morning, for example, I woke up in an unusually gloomy mood.
Which is rare for me.
Most mornings, I love getting up in the dark—sometimes as early as 3:30, sometimes closer to 4:30—taking my girls to the field, playing ball with them under the moonlight.
But this morning, I wasn’t feeling it.
And that surprised me, because I’ve been making real strides lately—shifting energy, deepening my work, moving forward. Usually, progress brings confidence. Boldness. A grounded steadiness.
Not today.
Still, we went to the field.
The moon was high—gorgeous.
Still bright from being full just days ago.
And then I saw something I had never seen before.
A massive halo around the moon.
Not the small rings I’ve noticed before—but a wide, luminous circle in a perfectly clear sky.
When I reached my favorite trees—the grandest ones on the field—the moon settled right between them.
The halo wrapped around them completely.
And I thought, Look at you… showing off.
Giving me magic in the dark.
Brightening my morning without me asking.
And I realized something simple and profound:
If my heart wasn’t open to the possibility of magic, I wouldn’t have seen what I saw—or felt it the way I did.
I wouldn’t want to change that for anything.
Because what makes my world enchanting is this:
At any moment, something extraordinary can happen.
Something that shifts your mood.
Your perspective.
Your situation.
Your life.
But only if you’re open.
About the Author
Teresa Rodden is a writer and guide behind Return to Light, where she explores clarity, curiosity, and what it means to feel fully alive in this season of life.
She writes most often on her blog, tending longer reflections and weekly notes.
If you’d like to keep walking with her, you’re welcome to meet her there.
In light, Teresa Rodden | Return to Light
