When my son Max was nine, he suggested I write a book.

It wasn’t meant to be a compliment.

“Mom, you should write a book, and call it The Big Book of Really Long Explanations.”

The kid had a point.

I love explanations.

I love research and answers and science.

I’ve completely transformed my life by studying how the mind and brain work together and by learning to use that relationship as a tool for growth.  

I live science.

But there’s another version of me…one with a superpower so secret, I’ve often even hidden her from myself.

She’s the one who experiences magic.

Fearing the scientist in me would shut her down and strip her of her power, or that given the reigns, she might pull us into some weird woo-woo existence, I’ve let the two operate independently for over 50 years.

But as I continue to learn, to grow, and to live, I can no longer deny my own experiences. Even the ones I can’t explain.

After all, magic is simply science we don’t yet understand.

So, if science is the study of the unexplained, why are we so quick to poo poo what isn’t already known?

My guess? It’s much safer not to stick your neck out – just ask Galileo.

The problem is, whether we’re comfortable with it or not, we all regularly intuit, feel and experience things we can’t explain.

I wonder what would happen if instead of discounting them, we leaned in – listened with all our senses – and lived our lives as one big experiment?

What might be possible then?