The word “abracadabra” is a word most people know. From watching a magician perform tricks or from stories that we’ve read or been told.
The origin of the word is much older and is actually part of a healing rite. A physician, of a roman emperor, by the name of Quintus Serenus Sammonicus, prescribed that malaria sufferers wear the word written in the form of a triangle, in an amulet around their necks. This, he explained, diminished the hold over the patient of the spirit of the disease.
The idea that words (which are manifestations of thoughts, dreams) hold a creative or destructive power is not a new idea. Even in the bible this is mentioned.
As an email from a friend showed me this week:
Dreams never go away. Either we live them out and thereby set the creative energy they are, free. Or we realize that some of the dreams we hold are merely illusions – this realization also sets the energy free. Other times we try to ignore them and thereby create a struggle within ourselves. The power of words is a double edged sword. A sword that must be used with great care. The first lesson in following our dreams is matching words with action. If we dream, but do not act the dream becomes an illusion. If we act, without our dreams as a background, the action becomes blind. And if we promise ourselves or others that we will do something, we must do it. Otherwise, our words become empty. And when they become empty that is when we have lost our power. (A power, however, that can always be regained.)
A traveller one day came across a small village where he found a woman sitting outside her house, drinking heavily.
He stopped as he came up to her and said:
“Why are you drinking so heavily?”
The woman answered:
“Because I’m bitter at life. None of my dreams ever came true, my life didn’t turn out as I had hoped. So I’m drinking my dreams away.”
The traveller took of his backpack and sat down next to her. Then he answered:
“I once believed the same thing. That there was no silver lining, no grace, no ease for a broken heart.”
“But you don’t belive so anymore?”, the woman asked, taking another sip of the bottle.
“No. Because one day, when I was sitting in a similar situation as you are now, a dog came up to me, sniffing my leg, leaving something it had carried around, at my feet. When I finally stopped feeling sorry for myself I looked at it.”
“What was it?”
“It was a piece of paper. A travel brochure.” The traveller smiled and shook his head as he stood up, putting on his backpack again.
“I have always wanted to travel”, he said. “But I’d never realized that I was the one who had to do something about it. When I did, however, things started happening.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“Maybe because you’re in need of a miracle.”