The Magic Child Defined; Music; and Contact Information

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What do I mean when I use the term, the Magic Child? It’s loaded for sure; and I don’t want to leave anyone--parents in particular--with the idea that there are chosen ones in whom we can identify the qualities of genius or the supernatural. No. My definition is less romantic and mysterious; but all the more promising for our children and their gifts to the world because of the absence of these exclusive qualities.

I’m referring to what I’ll call common magic that I believe all children are born with and from whom it is slowly eroded by the disciplines of cultures. William Wordsworth conveyed this idea of something essential that is lost in his poem, “Ode: Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood”:

Heaven lies about us in our infancy!
Shades of the prison-house begin to close
              Upon the growing boy
But he beholds the light, and whence it flows,
              He sees it in his joy,
The Youth, who daily father from the east
     Must travel, still is Nature's priest,
          And by the vision splendid
          Is on his way attended;
At length the Man perceives it die away,
And fade into the light of common day.

One doesn’t need to be scared off by the mention of Heaven as a Christian, Muslim, or Jewish thing; but I would call it an emblem of faith in something that attends the first breath and cry of a baby entering the world; so let’s leave theology and philosophy to one side as we focus our faith on the child itself.

I have my own recalled experiences of common magic—some things remembered in my head, others as things remembered in my body. I’ll call them memories of colours and qualities of light that illuminated profound experiences in nature. It wasn’t set apart from me:


I was of the things experienced
And knew them in a special way;
Then, as with the youth in Wordsworth’s poem,
It faded into common day.


In my experience as a counsellor, I’ve spoken to many adults who describe in their own unique ways early recollections of knowing that were then lost. Maybe you have some of your own recollections—recollections of common magic.

Once in a while history or fiction captures the essence of children with common magic still apparent. Sometimes tragedy strikes and at other times it produces adults of enormous capacities to change the world; others are constantly and challengingly outside the box; some become famous; others stay out of the limelight, but are palpably different and always drawing the curiosity of those who had their magic stolen along the way.

I believe Einstein was and remained a magic child; he was a challenge to conventional education—a failure in many ways; and yet child-like he went on to imagine a universe that could not be seen in conventional ways. He had principles he refused to compromise and remains one of the most quotable people ever. Here’s one I love that applies to my philosophy of parenting: "If people are good only because they fear punishment, and hope for reward, then we are a sorry lot indeed".

Anyone who has taken the opportunity to read the diaries of Anne Frank will recognize in her enduring spirit during her years of concealed isolation in that house in Amsterdam a magic child waiting to burst forth upon the world with hope and optimism. There was always something about her, which comes through her writing, that seems exceptional; and yet it was only the ordinary qualities of common magic apportioned to each child at birth. She had the good fortune of being supported by parents who understood the nurturing their daughter needed to flourish in the most extraordinarily oppressive circumstances. It was indeed a loss to the world when a betrayal and typhoid killed her shortly after the Nazis interned her in a concentration camp.

The nature of my work through the years has brought me into contact with children who have been subjected to terrible ordeals.

One I recall in particular was a nine-year-old magic child who held on to this essence despite family and societal abuses ranged against her. I’ll call her Josie. Josie was medicated on Ritalin because of behaviours in school and a convenient diagnosis of ADHD that prevented appropriate diagnosis of the environmental conditions she had to daily endure. She struggled academically, but could represent symbolically an understanding of her world that was stunning, although unnoticed by all but a few. She was spirited for sure, exuding an aura of strength that was too often framed as defiance. Calm or aroused, there was a light in her eyes that was striking in its power to hold the attention and curiosity of perceptive adults around her. You see, she had an innate sense of what was just and unjust and could articulate it, but because she had already been put in a diagnostic box, it prevented many from seeing the uncorrupted wisdom that emanated from the spirit of her common magic. After terrible experiences at home she would turn up at school with behaviours that were a barometer of what she’d suffered. Her teacher would insist the reason for her behaviours were that she had not taken her meds. I would discover in confidence with her that she had in fact taken them. On other occasions she would be attentive, happy and relaxed. The teacher would report with relief that today Josie had taken her meds. I would discover in confidence that she had in fact not taken them. Eventually, we got the facts of her life into the light of day. School, Child Protective Services and Parents were embarrassed. Her teacher even cried tears of remorse. Changes were made that worked for a while. The sad ending to this story is that many years later, a trusted ally who worked at the school and along with with me cared deeply about Josie saw her at a social function. I was curious and not a little excited to hear how she had developed. My ally informed me that her features had changed little but that the light had gone out of her eyes. The magic child had been destroyed.

Another child I’ll call Natalie was academically exceptional; she was bored by the challenges of class. The school was wise and resourced enough to offer her creative options of expression. She too had family difficulties after divorce, but the energy of her presence had all the qualities of common magic. Her homeroom teacher was wise and probably a magic child herself; but given the frustrations of teaching with a class too large with many troubled children, the teacher had repeatedly handled a particular student in an inappropriate way. One day nine-year-old Natalie asked to speak with her teacher after class. Her teacher reported to me that Natalie had respectfully challenged her unfair treatment of the student in question and suggested that she might have handled the situation differently. The teacher was clear in acknowledging to me that Natalie was correct, respectful and appropriate in how she brought the issues to her attention. She told Natalie that she was right and thanked her for helping her understand what she was doing--a magic child, who, I understand, retains this quality to this day.

Disabilities don’t foreclose the qualities of common magic. For many years I was acquainted with a woman who has cerebral palsy and was confined to a wheelchair. Common magic emanated from her like fireside warmth. She spoke in unusual ways about life experiences and perceptions of the world that had the effect of unbalancing those who listened, so that people were naturally required to rethink presumptions. Her common magic included an ability to induce a smile in all around her and yet it was not an intentional thing she did. It simply came from the indefinable essence of the magic child that in her was irrepressible.

One final example I’ll share is in having come to know W. O. Mitchell, the great Western Canadian author. I saw him daily over a period of several months in his later years. Like Einstein, a mischievous smile was never far from his lips. He was an oral storyteller at heart and would always be ready with a delivery that could hold one spellbound. Perhaps what is less well known about him was his commitment to issues of simple justice. Many decades ago he helped gain the pardon of a young man jailed for a serious crime. That man went on to dedicate his entire life to helping others with determination and great humility. If you get a chance, read W. O. Mitchell’s Who Has Seen the Wind you will understand the common magic behind the pen of this breathtaking story of a boy growing up on the Canadian Prairies.

I have a firm belief in principles of being with children that will help preserve these natural ways of knowing--common magic--in the face of systems in society that would take them away. At times I won’t be able to avoid speaking as a counsellor who has had many years of experience with children; but I’ll attempt to convey what I mean with stories that I hope will be inspirational in shifting the paradigm from raising children to nurturing their growth. I trust you’ll see what I mean as time goes by.