On "making magic"–it can be simpler than we think.

A reminder that magic doesn’t always have to be made, but noticed–and how this practice has changed my life.

Editor’s note before we jump into today’s essay: I woke up to over SEVEN THOUSAND subscribers this morning!! I cannot begin to tell you how exciting this is and that *this many people* care about what I have to say. Seven thousand aunties tuning in! Thank you from the bottom of my heart. While I usually reserve essays like this for my paid community, today I want to open it up to everyone as a small thank-you. ♥️

Now, let’s jump in.

(Also note, for those listening to audio–there is an F-bomb dropped in here–maybe don’t listen around small ears. 😆)

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Last week, I pointed out to my four year old how the reflection of the snow in the moonlight lit up the night and how I thought it was incredibly beautiful. She had never noticed this before and was mesmerized. Earlier this week, she caught me looking out her window, again, at the snow lit street at 8pm, and said, “Mommy, are you looking at the beautiful world?” 🥺

What a gift. I think I will make a point to look out at the beautiful world more often.

I shared this passing musing off the cuff last week on Notes, not giving it a lot of thought—and certainly not expecting it to get the traction that it did!

It made me think this is clearly something we all want more of. To be reminded that the world is still full of beauty and magic when it can seem so dark. I started thinking more about these little moments of noticing.

How during this (busy, stressful) season, the only thing that is effortless is our ability to go through life on autopilot. Our packed schedules, responsibilities, and scrolling habits make it astonishingly easy to miss these little moments that seem insignificant, but are truly what makes life worth living.

To me, these little everyday “in between” moments are where the magic is.

“Magic.”

It’s a word you hear a lot this time of year. Making “magic” for the kids. A “magical” season. (Cue the rising blood pressure of mothers everywhere.)

In my last Substack post, I shared a lot about my personal experience with loss and mourning an adulthood I’ll never get. (This resonated with so many of you. ♥️ I also can’t recommend reading the comment section enough, it was a healing experience in itself.)

In the comments and conversations I’ve had with many of you since, there was a recurring theme– in many ways, for many of us, it feels like the magic of this season is gone.

I resonate with this deeply. It’s hard to describe the ache for a reality that was supposed to be yours. Envy for those around you who seem to have it. It’s nostalgia for the safety, the simplicity, the joy of what used to be, paired with the realization that the vision you had in your head will never come to fruition. The magic from your childhood has all but dried up.

Regardless of our various situations, so many of us find ourselves here. Looking around, asking ourselves, “where is OUR fucking magic!?”

Turns out, so much of it is right in front of us—we just have to notice.

What do I mean by that?

Social media convinces us that we must always perform the magic. That “making magic” is this intricate recipe that must be made from scratch. (Store bought’s just fine! …Sorry, I had to make an Ina reference!)

And of course, as adults, we ARE in charge of making the magic for our kids AND ourselves.

But…here’s a secret I’ve discovered through this messy season of life. (You could even call it a hack, if you will, if we’re sticking with the Ina theme!)

There is so much magic we’re leaving on the table–the kind that can be sourced.

This “noticing” and “sourcing” moments of magic is something that has always been present and impactful in my life, but isn’t really something I’ve always done on a conscious level. I was simply fortunate to have parents who always stopped to pour a glass of wine and take in the sunset together. (I was always invited, but never forced.)

While this seems small, I have so many memories of them doing this. Even my dad, who was, by every definition of the word, a workaholic–but he loved a quiet moment watching the sunset, and never took the opportunity to do so for granted.

I don’t think they realized it at the time, but they were modeling how important it is to slow down, be present, and take in the beauty that constantly surrounds us.

I don’t remember when I started to make the “art of noticing” more of an intentional practice–I think sometime during the pandemic, when it became a way to ground myself in gratitude vs. constantly focusing on the instability of the world at the time. Or it could’ve been earlier, sometime during the heightened struggles with my dad.

Regardless, it was having June that crystallized it for me: I want to be the kind of mom who, literally and figuratively, always stops to smell the flowers. I want her to grow up knowing that noticing the magic around us doesn’t erase the hard things, but it does remind us that the hard things aren’t the whole story.

This practice–noticing the magic–has become one of the greatest gifts I’ve ever given myself. And I hope it’s one that lives on through June long after I’m gone. Not because it’s a lesson I explicitly taught her, but because she saw me living it.

So, don’t underestimate the power of simply noticing (and pointing out) how beautiful the snow looks in the moonlight.

Don’t underestimate the magnitude of savoring that first sip of coffee.

Of noticing the curve of your baby’s nose and lips. Committing her profile to memory.

Of telling someone when you love their shirt, and feeling how it literally changes the energy in the air when they beam at you and say, “Oh thanks! I got it on sale!”

It’s the feeling of sinking into your freshly washed sheets at the end of a long day and thinking, “wow, how lucky am I?”

Reflecting on how tickled you felt when you scored that vintage lamp from a rummage sale and how it gives you a little hit of delight every time you turn it on.

It’s thinking about how your closest friends make you feel safe, loved, and accepted.

It’s listening for the satisfying crunch of boots in the snow.

Of soaking in every note of your child’s laugh.

Having a piece of candy for breakfast just because you CAN, and marveling what a treat it is to live in a world where chocolate is freely available.

Of stepping outside on a clear morning, breathing in that first breath of crisp air, and soaking in the feeling of the sun on your face.

Of memorizing the look in your partner’s eyes when they tell you they love you.

Of laying in bed for an extra beat to take in the way the sunlight is streaming in through the windows, because have you ever seen anything more beautiful?

What if the difference between a life on auto-pilot and a life well-lived is just…paying attention?

Wherever I look, I find magic–but that’s the catch–I have to look. Up from my phone. Out of my head, and into the life that is happening right now, all around.

What a relief, to not need to add anything to our to-do list, to spend any more money, in order to experience more magic in our lives.

Just, simply, to look out the window, at the beautiful world. ♥️

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If you liked this essay, you may also like…

On grieving an adulthood you’ll never get.

Confession: It came as a shock to me that one of the hardest parts of parenting has been…marriage.

This book (and my review of it) on hardwiring happiness.

If you feel stuck, burnt out, or in-between right now, this is for you.

Will I ever feel ready to have a second baby?

Motherhood is another chapter of girlhood.

How to actually get off your effing phone. (Auntie-approved methods that work!)

…and lots more posts from the archives.

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I hope you have a wonderful weekend. Thank you for being here!

Love,

Jess