Thoughts In Practice: The Seduction of Magic

Fix me," he said. My client, normally a resilient man in his early 50s, had been dealing with a lot in the past few months. And now he was facing a possible layoff. In moments like this, I find myself wishing for a magic pill, a magic wand, something to stave off the feeling of desperation–my client's, and my own.

The urge to save a client, the impulse to the magic solution, brings me back to a time when magic worked in my life. I was working in theater, a lighting techie. Magic works in theater, if you befriend the shadows. The contrast of light and dark, sometimes well-defined, sometimes blurred, can work for an actor (and a techie hiding in the lightless places) who understands the boundaries of the shadows and light.

My impulse to save my clients and my awareness of being enticed to do "magic" are parts of my shadow. What brings me back to the point where deep work can be done is my cognizance of the loss of my real authority as a healer when I succumb to the enticement of magic. In the case of this client, I remembered that the shadow of despair is hope. Working with the shadow, my client and I were able to find an authentic reframing of the despair, which in the long run, was much more meaningful than a magical fix—if that were even possible.

After he left, I thought about the seduction of the magical fix, the enticement of that, for both client and therapist. My shamanic teachers—from Michael Harner, to Alberto Villoldo, to the Q'ero elders—used humor to keep themselves true and humble in their work. Alberto asked his students not to take themselves seriously, but to take the work of healing very seriously. Michael Harner, who laughed often and refused to interpret any dream or event during the workshop I attended, exemplified the same sentiment. During my work with the Q'ero elders, they, too, laughed a lot and their work was filled with joy. All these teachers revered the work, and none took themselves too seriously.