Magical Thinking: MISAO McGREGOR!

What magical thinking have you engaged in lately?

Lately, I have been deeply fascinated by synchronicities. For the last year, I have repeatedly seen 444 whether it’s on a clock, on a receipt, or in the pages of a book. And more recently on my birthday, I happened to look at the clock at the exact time I was born into this earth. Some may call it coincidence, but I prefer to view it as magic. Even if they are just small moments to remind me of the magical purpose we each have on this earth, it’s a reminder nonetheless that when we offer our unique gifts unequivocally and authentically to this world, we are embodying the magic within and around us. 

If you were a magician, what would be your best trick?

Being able to transform anyone into a color. I have synesthesia (a magic unto itself) and sometimes, certain names, letters, or musical notes will have a signature color to me. If I was to dedicate myself to the practice of magic, I would harness this power to manifest these colors in the people around me. If not to show people what’s constantly raging inside my brain, then just to give them a good scare or a laugh. 

Do you know someone who has a ~magical touch~? What is it?

I’d say something with a magical touch would have to be the wet food cans I feed my cats. Its magic is so powerful that when I crack one open, some of that magical dust rubs off on me and I suddenly become the most popular person in the house! Among animals, that is. 

What has been your favorite magical moment in your life so far?

There have been many. But one I’d like to recognize is one that happened when I was 15 years old. My very first theater teacher passed away suddenly, and on the day of his passing, there were (what can only be described as) wind storms that swept through Pasadena, CA. Nothing like this had ever happened in sunny SoCal and I have yet to witness it again. But school was canceled from trees having been blown down, taking out power lines, and blocking the entrance to the school itself. Funny enough, my theater teacher’s favorite Shakespeare play was The Tempest. A couple of months later, the children’s choir I sang in would tell us that we’d been invited to sing in the inaugural piece for an Icelandic composer who put texts from The Tempest to music. So I spent rehearsal after rehearsal greeted by the very texts my theater teacher once adored. Somehow, it felt like a reminder that magic itself can be healing. That when we lean into those feelings of grief and discomfort, we confront the very pain we wish to escape, only to be greeted by a magic that reminds us why we’re alive in the first place.