Everyday magic, and the spells we create

‘The magic is within you’ say two local women who explain why spells are finding a new meaningA pocket-sized hardback with a cover like a vision of Atlantis, all sea-blue and filigreed gold. The Magic We Create reads the title – then, in smaller letters, The Book of Spells. Just below, next to a golden dragonfly, comes the author’s signature in flowing, calligraphic script, the name just about discernible as ‘Dorothy Howls’. “The book has been reviewed by a doctor of psychology,” says Dorothy (a pseudonym; real name unmentioned), sitting on a bench in Athalassa park, meaning reviewed before publication – a rather surprising thing to say, then again she’s “quite agnostic” and not really into all that spiritual stuff. “Every single practice in it is confirmed to be based on years of research,” she adds, “things that are actually used in therapists’ offices. So none of it is imaginary.” Dorothy is 43; Kat Antoniou – sitting next to her on the bench – is 36. Kat wasn’t involved in The Magic We Create, indeed she hasn’t even read it – but she’s here for support, the two having met during their time in the corporate world and become close friends. That was their old life, though not quite a previous life. Kat still works as an accountant, though she’s moved to a village and taken a step back from full-on corporate mode. Dorothy worked in advertising as a creative director – but she’s currently on a sabbatical that’s stretched to one and a half years (and counting), during which she’s made a short film, trained AI models and written a book, this book. She’s hoping to create “a body of work that will support general mental health,” she explains. “I want to be a mental-health ally.” Mental health, all very well. But ‘a book of spells’, that’s… witchcraft, no? The meaning of spells “I chose to call it ‘spells’,” she replies breezily, “because, in a way, it is. In the same way that religion chooses to use spells, but calls it something else”. Religion uses prayers, a guarantee of safety and salvation if “you repeat something, like ‘The Saviour is going to come and protect me’. It’s the same thing that I am pursuing” – except that, for her, “the magic is within you. There’s no outside force that is coming to do anything for you. You’ve got to actually use neuroplasticity, and change the way you think”. The only religion she believes in is therapy. Dorothy and Kat in Athalassa park Kat picks up the topic – though her set of beliefs is slightly different. She was born in Moldova, but grew up here (Dorothy is Polish, but has lived in Cyprus for the past 20 years), and had what she describes as a “very strict corporate upbringing” – but then she changed, following her natural curiosity. “The driving question for me is the question ‘why?’. That has always been the drive.” The desire to find out more led her down a path of spiritual searching. “New understandings opened me up to new circles of people and experiences,” she writes in an email, “that got me into certifications in different modalities like reiki, pranic healing, crystal therapies, while diving deeper into metaphysical and occult studies about anything that would pique my interest – theosophy, telepathy, quantum jumps, tarot, shamanism, alchemy and the list goes on.” When it comes to the fundamental question of method, though – a question of ‘how?’, not just ‘why?’ – she agrees with Dorothy. “An era is changing,” she says. For centuries, “we did need a middleman. We’re stepping into a space now where we stop seeking a middleman. Because the tools are there. There are people who are creating tools. “And I’m not going to go to the witch lady anymore. I’m not going to go to my pastor anymore. I’m going to sit down, and take a breath, and ask myself what to do.” It’s a fascinating subject – because magic never really went away, despite humanity’s efforts in the past 200 years (in the West, especially) to convince itself that the rise of science had created a new, modern world based on rational materialism. The Magic We Create Religion was always the mainstream (implicitly male) side of that magic, witches and spells the more fringe (implicitly female) side. Either way, there was always a need for a framework: a guidebook, a Bible, a person with knowledge to whom one could go. Now, however, for the first time we’re seeing educated, successful people – from, significantly, the first generation to have grown up with the internet – affirming that it’s possible to create your own magic. Creating your own magic Then again, it’s not that unusual. It’s just broadening the definition of magic, really. Take, for instance, Dorothy’s book, The Magic We Create. Open it at random and you’ll find a ‘spell’, spread across two open pages. On the right-hand page is a poem to recite, an incantation – the spell itself, you might say. On the left-hand page is its purpose, followed by instructions (the ritual) on how to perform it, then what she calls the “magic behind it”, citing techniques used in therapy. Thus, for instance, The Bend and Breathe (p.121) is “for moments of strain, burnout, or when you’re holding too much” and has very specific instructions: “Stand tall, then gently sway from side to side like a tree in the wind. Repeat the spell as you breathe in and out…” But it also makes clear that the ‘spell’ is scientifically based, noting that it “draws from embodiment practices and stress recovery techniques”. Some might protest that it’s not really ‘magic’, just a form of meditation – and it’s true there’s a quite important difference. Magic in the sense of witchcraft – even white magic, which follows the fundamental precept of the Wiccan Rede: “Harm none” – is usually about specific ‘wants’. A spell can be a love spell, for instance, or a money spell. These spells, on the other hand, are largely about peace of mind, mental health, so-called wellness. This, too, is a sign of the times. Kat was “born hypersensitive,” she tells me. “I had anxiety since I was a kid, but I didn’t quite know it. I also had panic attacks since I was six – but was only told that what I was experiencing was a panic attack at 26!” Dorothy has ADHD, as reflected in her quicksilver style and state of perpetual motion. Athalassa park was her choice of venue, tinged with the serenity of pine trees and happy sounds of children playing. Unsurprisingly, I’m the only one drinking coffee. Everyday magic in 2026 is inexorably linked to this state of ubiquitous anxiety – especially for those from a corporate background. “We are leading very dynamic lives,” muses Kat. “Every next second you need to solve something. Someone is screaming, some client needs something.” For women, especially – more sensitive, more empathetic, and more prone to be told that “I’m just hysterical, and I need to get my ducks in a row” – the process of self-healing through ritualised action can indeed seem magical, even despite the author’s firm insistence that it’s all scientific. Reprogramming the mind It’s actually not so new, this notion of everyday magic. For years, I’ve had a book on my shelves called Make Magic Happen – and, though it comes from an older tradition of ‘proper’ witchcraft, it deals in the same idea of spells, incantations and rituals bringing positive change in a quiet, quotidian way, without the intercession of some occult specialist. “Wherever you live, there will always be sceptics,” admits the book. “Nevertheless, magic is all around us and all we have to do is choose to see it. “The woman next door may be a green witch, concocting many a potion in her kitchenette. That is why her apartment has never been broken into and her cats are safe, discreet, and content. “The baker across the road may be practising white magic. That is why he sells out of bread before it has a chance to cool, and his bicycle was returned an hour after it was stolen. “The girl at school may have a mother who is a witch, and that is why she easily understands the lessons and can’t remember the last time she caught a cold. “If we choose not to see it,” it concludes with an almost-audible sigh, “we attribute everything to coincidence and luck.” Dorothy’s book isn’t quite in this tradition. (To be fair, she makes no claim to witchcraft, and admits she could just as easily have written the book without talk of magic.) There are rules to casting actual spells – unlike the life hacks here, which can be performed fairly casually. The point, however, is the same – namely, to place the subject in a trance state (which is why spells always rhyme) and allow them to access their subconscious, which in turn allows them to reprogramme their mind and achieve what they want, whether that’s serenity and mental health or something more specific. Sceptics will roll their eyes, of course. Dorothy recalls the book’s launch party a few months ago, and laughs about some of her male ex-colleagues who attended out of politeness, without believing a word of it. “Cool, cool… Nice job, Dorothy,” she mutters, doing an impression of a man trying to get through an awkward encounter without sounding patronising. Dorothy points to similarities between spells and religion The weird thing is, she half-agrees with them. A lot of this is placebo effect, she reckons (Kat isn’t so sure). “If I made a magical item right now,” says Dorothy – grabbing some pine needles and tying them together, by way of illustration – “and I hold it with me dearly every day, it’ll help me in a moment of stress… Like, oh, this is my magic broom from the park”. The object isn’t magical, but her positive feelings will be. ‘The magic we create’, get it? Maybe. But there’s also a larger, more profound question here. Making life more certain? Magic in the old sense is – like religion – an appeal to authority, a way of making life seem more certain. If I want a certain woman to fall in love with me, I’ll go to a witch and get a love spell; “I just want her, I’m going to sit here and still be a knob,” as Dorothy puts it. (Her solution, of course, is to work on yourself and stop being a knob in the first place.) Dorothy and Kat, on the other hand, don’t want life to be more certain – quite the opposite. “It’s supposed to be an adventure!” exclaims Kat. “And in an adventure you get robbed, you lose your way, there’s a detour, you end up at a rave and meet the love of your life…” Magic in this new, proactive sense of finding peace, steadying your thoughts – like the other tools she mentioned, crystals and quantum jumps and whatnot – is a way of understanding life better, and hopefully making it more fun. Her absolute favourite part of the book, says Dorothy Howls, is the very last ‘spell’ on p.233, The Blue Dot and the Maybe, “inspired,” says the text, “by cosmic perspective (as echoed in Carl Sagan’s reflections) and the parable of the Chinese farmer”. The farmer in the parable has a son. His son breaks his leg horse riding, and the neighbours say, that’s too bad. “Maybe,” says the farmer. Then, the next day, the army comes recruiting men for war – but the son can’t go, since his leg is broken. That was lucky, say the neighbours. But the farmer just says, “Maybe”. “And in the ‘maybe’, we are free!” exults Dorothy. “Because if you think of everything as bad or good, it traps you.” “Be open,” adds her friend. Are these two ladies witches? Would they have been hunted down and put on trial, once upon a time? On the one hand, obviously not. There’s nothing supernatural in that pocket-sized book. On the other, like the farmer says, maybe. Because, in the end, rejecting certainties, set-in-stone frameworks and absolute notions of good and bad – and yes, being open – is perhaps the most magical thing we can do.