This little woo of mine, I'm gonna let it shine

I have a confession to make.

I bent a spoon this week! And not some cheesy dollar store spoon, a hefty one. I even put a little swirl in it.

Years ago I would have kept this new hobby a secret, afraid of what people would think of me, but something is shifting big time. I’ve had the same message come to me over and over these last few months:

Take up your space.

Be your authentic self.

Don’t hold back.

You KNOW the world is magical, and it’s time to open up about it. 

I’ve been spiritually curious for as long as I can remember, but there has always been an unspoken rule that I shouldn’t talk about it. The wounds of having my ancestors’ pagan traditions crushed by the Roman empire and the 50,000 women executed for witchcraft still fester to this day. 

Unfortunately, I was also told at a very young age that to try and affect matter with my consciousness was forbidden and against God’s will. I was maybe 6 years old, standing shoulder to shoulder with a gaggle of cousins throwing paper planes off my grandparents’ second level deck, and I would close my eyes and pray so hard that my planes would fly across the entire length of the backyard. I would imagine a small breeze coming to lift my plane so I could prove to myself that there was some hidden force at work in the world.

It worked! While my cousins' planes veered off to the side or spiraled straight to the ground, mine soared across the yard. I was so excited, I told my grandma about how I'd done it, and her reaction made me feel deeply ashamed. 

At 12 years old, my best friend and I were occasionally allowed to wander around the shops by ourselves in our small town, and we’d always end up at the metaphysical supply store. The tarot cards, crystals, herbs and spellbooks, dragon sculptures!…I was in heaven. I’d spend what little money I had on some incense sticks and head back home, feeling like I’d just committed a crime and knowing I’d have to keep my treasures a secret. 

When I left Christianity and deconstructed my religious views 10 years ago, I decided to take a page—like, a literal page—out of Martha Beck’s book, Leaving the Saints, and allowed myself to be as spiritually curious as I was inclined to be. I had experienced way too much at that point to deny the fact that this universe is super weird, and I wanted to know more about it…as much as is humanly possible! 

To this day, that still makes my soul sing and sounds like the adventure of a lifetime. But I’m ready to take it a step further and give myself permission to be transparent about my obsession with mysticism.

So here I am, SAF (spiritual as fuck), and telling anyone who will listen that spoon bending is not only possible, it’s actually pretty easy once you get your left brain out of the way and allow it to happen. 

I’ve wanted to try for years since reading Michael Chrichton’s memoir, Travels (he’s the guy who wrote Jurassic Park), along with one of my very favorite Martha Beck books, Finding Your Way in a Wild New World. 

When I saw an astrologer and online friend sharing openly and enthusiastically about learning to bend spoons a few weeks ago, my curiosity was reawakened. Apparently I wasn’t the only one, because she had so much interest she decided to teach a Zoom class and pass on what she had learned. The timing happened to be perfect, so I signed up and got myself a big bag of mismatched silverware from the thrift store. 

There I sat, the boat all to myself, a selection of spoons and forks in front of me, a makeshift pendulum, and my computer. I logged on feeling a little nervous and unsure of what to expect. Then I realized that the virtual meeting room was full of all kinds of people who were curious just like me.

I relaxed and followed Olivia’s instructions as closely as I could, and…nothing. 

In fact, I was the only person who didn’t experience anything on the first try. I felt a little discouraged and embarrassed, but after seeing the pure joy and excitement in everyone else as they shared their results, I decided to close my eyes while they were talking and try again.

This time I tried to subtly shift my energy to let it happen, getting out of my head and into my body, amping up my energy, and gently inquiring if the spoon was ready to bend. Then there was a distinct shift, and the metal went from being totally fixed to willing. I put one big bend in it, and put it down, only to pick it back up a minute later. I sensed that it wanted to go further, so I looped it around into a swirl. It felt like the spoon was my friend and wanted to work with me.

And here my swirly friend sits, right beside me as I write this post. A physical representation of the changes that are happening in me. A regular spoon decided to become weird and fabulous. She may not have done it for anybody but herself, but perhaps she’ll help give permission to all the other spoons, too: that they can be as wonderfully weird and curious as they’re inclined to be and not be ashamed of it either.

Here’s to being SAF.

PS: If you’re interested in learning spoon bending, Olivia is scheduling more classes! Book here