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Chapter Eight

We went into the studio that my grandmother used to do her pottery in.  I wasn’t sure if that was the wisest place to start teaching me magic.  I could imagine bolts of energy  shooting from my hands and pottery flying all about.  I mentioned my concern to him.  He just chuckled and  assured me that there’d be no bolts of energy shooting out of my hands to worry about.

To my surprise, wonderment, and amazement, the magic he showed me came from deep  within me.  I was the source.  It required no hocus pocus words or special, overly dramatic movements.  No magic wands or  symbols drawn in the air or on my body.  I simply had to think about what I wanted to have happen.

Who would have thought it?

I was required to focus my mind harder than I’d ever focused it before.  As a result, my brain felt like it was made of oatmeal within fifteen minutes.  That’s where the trick lie

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