Typically, when we think of conjuring magic, we imagine a wart-spattered witch hovering over her boiling cauldron whispering spells on the night of the full moon, attempting to turn the wheel of fortune to her desires.

But real conjuring is at once simpler and more magical than that.  It is the basic act of focusing our energies, setting our intent to achieve desired results.  This time of year, with Halloween at our doorstep, it may be easier to accept magic as a natural part of life. The stirring of red leaves across the street, the rich scent of earth going to sleep for the winter, the little creaks and whispers in the house that lull us to sleep--or sometimes wake us for no apparent reason...all are reminders of the subtle forces that stir around us.  Conjuring is a way for us to become more in tune with these forces, more in tune with our deepest selves.

Think about it: we conjure every time we daydream about our futures, resolve to change something in our lives, or continue with other life patterns. We conjure when we meditate or do yoga.  We conjure when we cook, our intent to nourish and love settling over the food like any spell a witch casts over her cauldron.  In essence, conjuring is being conscious about the energies we choose to allow into our lives.

I've been mulling over this concept as I prepare to move into my new home--okay an apartment--now that I am ready to set down roots in New Mexico.  This is a chance to let go of old ways of being, which for me means letting go of my graduate school days and all the baggage that came with that: long hours, overwork, unhappiness, stress.  It is also a chance to consider the type of energy I want to bring into my new space, the type of life I want to conjure up for myself. 

It has taken a lot of energy these past weeks letting go of old furniture (goodbye futon and IKEA mattress!) and investing in new, more permanent furniture (hello antique tables and shelves, iron-frame bed, and cranberry colored couches!).  With each piece of old furniture or dead kitchen appliance I recycle, I say goodbye to the old stagnant energy of my past life.  With each thoughtful purchase that replaces those things, I welcome in happiness and vitality.  This is my conjuring of a healthier, happier, more connected life.

My family has been conjuring with me too--adding input to every decoration decision I ponder and getting ready to help move my boxes at the end of this week.  These caring acts imbue my new space with a cozy warmth only family love can give.  I am even happy that I am moving on Dia de Los Muertos, or Day of the Dead, a holiday perhaps more important to us in New Mexico than Halloween.  It is a holiday that celebrates those who have come before us--relatives, loved ones, and, I would add, past selves.  They come to visit, eating sugar skulls and other sweet offerings, bearing messages from beyond.  When I move on this day, I will be able to say goodbye to some ghosts--my past selves that no longer serve me.  This is my conjuring that lets me shed my old skin.

When I dust off my cookbooks and knitted blankets--they've been in storage for quite some time--I will imbue my life with the domestic calm I've always thrived on.  I will cook meals for my family.  I will continue to knit my new blanket, each stitch a link in a woven spell of security and tranquility.  I will write at my big turquoise desk, a pot of tea by my side, feeling the words slip around me and spill out into my new space, coating it in well-being. I will blend my tea.  I will tend my new home. 

I will conjure. No cauldron necessary.