As a child, I always had a curiosity and enthusiasm for magic. All my make-believe plays were about magic. One day I was a witch and the other day I was a fairy. I browsed for hours in the public library for fantastical books. What was I looking for was not Harry Potter, no offence to J.K Rowling, but a possibility of magic; something more daily, more accessible like Fortune Tellers Club by Dotti Enderle or Laura series by Peter Freund. All the books I had read made me believe that it was a matter of time that I would reach the soil of magic. The only problem was that I kept growing and nothing had changed. I was a teenager and while I was watching Doctor Who or The Librarians I could still hope for something, something which I didn’t know what. Even when it converted to something less “fantastic” it was still fictional.
I waited for that inspirational turning point of an artist; I waited for the perfect friendship which would complete every aspect of my life. A long part of my teenage years went by longing for something. I would lie in the balcony and watch the stars for hours and hours. I wrote poems, I talked to myself in my diaries. The foundation of my religious beliefs was shaped in those days, which is still not completed. Yet, the “longing” with the teenage blues started to feel too much and I stopped, stopped waiting, writing and anything which kept
me waiting. I studied, I saw all the movies I could. I kept myself somehow busy and in time, I achieved the state of not waiting. But the problem started at that moment. I met the medical version of the “blues”; depression. Since I was used to not being the most cheerful kid in the world I didn’t think that it was a problem. I thought I lost the “essence”, the essence of living and that was something inevitable.
By the time I decided that it was time for seeing a professional, there was no magic left in my life, I assure you. I had used antidepressants for two years and slowly I was not “depressed” anymore. I could get up and join life yet still, I could not feel any life in me. I was alive enough to go out for drinks with my friends yet I wasn’t feeling any joy in me. Or when I was not in an active state, suddenly all the stuff would come back. I would hate myself, I would hate the people around me and again I would hate myself for hating them. What a lovely cycle it was.
The real recovery has not come until my second year at the university and I thank the tree which I still cannot identify in front of my dorm for that. Without knowing, I build a connection with this beautiful tree. Then I started to feel a connection with the street and the trees surrender it. Where I live was really
cold in winter yet when I turned to that street, my shivering would stop and I would feel safe as if I was protected by trees. I started to see patterns in nature, in my surroundings and I started to connect with them. This connection somehow enabled me to connect within. I remembered that once upon a time I had things that I liked and even other things that I did not like. Realizing that made me curious about myself and if I had to choose a moment of healing, that would be it. The moment I was curious about myself again. When I started to breathe I started to investigate the patterns which excited me after years. I sat with the tree in front of my dorm. I meditated looking at the trees which surrendered me. They forced me to look deeper within and discover the outer. And oh the pleasure… I knew that pleasure. It was same with reading a fantastical child’s book, with a scene from a movie in which nothing happens.
It was also same as lying in the balcony and creating a religion for yourself or walking in a summer night with flower fragrances around you. It was even same with just sitting with a warm beverage in silence.
I discovered that the pleasure I took from the magical or mundane was from the same source. The magic has always been a connection for me. The skill which would give me the “soil of magic” was always there: being able to connect. The spark which keeps me breathing and functioning as a human being is the connection, with myself, with the universe, with trees around me, with fellow human beings, with tiniest and biggest animals and most importantly with nature who carries us despite all the disrespect, she sees from us. Now that I discover this, I can close my eyes and trust that the universe got my back, because we have the connection.