Can You Sense the Magic, Yet to Be Seen?

When everything seems bleak and sensing feels out of reach.

This can be a tough question to wander into—especially in January, which in many parts of the world is known for its bleakness. The colours have disappeared from the landscape, and the darkness, with all its shades of greys, blacks, and whites, envelops us. At times, not as gently as we would hope or like.

For a few years now, I’ve been living in Portugal, where winter is actually the green season because of all the rain. Yellow flowers are blossoming everywhere at the moment, and the almond trees will have their enchanting light pink flowers exploding any minute now.

Still, when I pulled this card a week ago with the intention of really letting this question sit with me throughout my days—to see what might arise—I remember thinking:

‘I don’t think I can sense any magic right now. Neither the magic already here nor the magic yet to be seen. Like the dormant almond trees, waiting to burst into life.’

Being truly honest with ourselves is key when we dare to walk into the land of the unknown. We are not just thinking about a question—we are feeling into it. It’s unknown territory because learning the skill of inquiry requires us to move beyond our usual preconceived ideas and repetitive answers. It asks us to become curious.

When I created the Wonder Card Oracle nearly six years ago, I wanted to create something that would invite wondering, rather than cards that tell you what to do. At the time, I had won a painting course with Shiloh Sophia, and I immensely enjoyed creating the card set from scratch—ripping the paper into equal pieces, developing a theme, symbols, and slowly painting each card. It was playful, tactile, and deeply alive.

For a while, I offered coaching based on the cards. Then, like so many tools and creative projects, they began to sit quietly on the shelf. And that was fine. Yet recently, they came back into my awareness—along with a sense of unused potential. I had been asking myself questions I wanted to wonder into, but I realised I hadn’t truly allowed myself to go deeper with them.

Maybe it really is all about timing. We go through phases. And quite frankly, I’ve grown rather bored with my own preconceived ideas and repetitive thoughts about certain things.

So I admitted to myself that I felt bleak on the inside—and that it was hard for me to sense, truly sense, a magic that was yet to be seen. There’s a difference between logically knowing that flowers will bloom and sensing that something hidden is quietly unfolding, even though we can’t see it yet.

Sensing is physical. It’s as if the cells of our bodies are picking up on something. I personally can’t sense much of anything when I feel depressed—or when I’m distracting myself by mindlessly scrolling through social media.

Lately, I’ve become very aware of how attached I am to technology, and how quickly I check emails or notifications. I can feel how this constant pull impacts my ability to simply be with myself—and to be with stillness. Sometimes it seems as though we are living in a perpetual state of disembodiment and numbness, glued to our phones.

Unless I’m willing to sit with the inner bleakness—depression, emptiness—and find ways to reconnect with myself, there’s little chance of sensing any kind of magic.

Then, of course, there’s the question of what ‘magic’ even is. This feels deeply personal. For me, magic is connected to a sense of wonder—a feeling that there is more to life than what meets the eye. That invisible threads of benevolence and mystery are woven through our lives. Something we can’t quite grasp, yet can sometimes feel when the mind softens and quiets.

In that way, magic is also connected to hope. It might show up as questions like:

‘Maybe the cells of my body are already relaxing, slowly and quietly. Maybe my nervous system is beginning to shift out of perpetual danger mode, even though I can’t feel it yet. It could be possible…’

These ‘maybe’ questions—the what ifs—have the power to open hidden doors we didn’t even know existed. They can give us the courage not to give up on ourselves, to keep walking, and to build trust that something unseen might be working in our favour.

And sometimes, when we allow ourselves to go that far, we might even sense this invisible magic—yet to be seen—now and then.

All that’s required is honesty about where we are in this moment in time. From there, we can take ourselves by the hand and gently walk into the unknown, guided by curiosity and wonder.