I have recently discovered a serious condition.

I am not a doctor, so please don’t ask me for medical advice. But after years of careful observation, I am confident enough to give it a name:

Zero Abracadabra Syndrome.

You probably know someone who has it.

Maybe you tell them that you are excited about something.

“I started writing a book!”

They look at you.

“Why?”

You tell them you decorated your house for Christmas a little early.

“It’s September.”

Thank you, calendar.

You tell them you spent twenty minutes watching a beautiful sunset.

“It’s just the sun going down.”

Yes.

And technically, a birthday cake is just flour with small fires on top of it, but we don’t have to live like this.

People with Zero Abracadabra Syndrome have some very recognizable symptoms.

Eye-rolling.

Excessive seriousness.

Suspicion toward enthusiasm.

An unexplained need to remind everyone that they are being unrealistic.

And, in severe cases, the inability to recognize magic even when it is dancing directly in front of them wearing a sparkling hat.

Some people enter a room and bring magic.

Others enter the room and immediately ask:

“Who approved the magic?”

Those are the dangerous ones.

Not because they are bad people. They may actually be wonderful people.

They simply have zero abracadabra.

And that would be perfectly fine if they kept their zero to themselves.

Unfortunately, sometimes they don’t.

You tell them about a dream, and suddenly they become professional dream inspectors.

“Are you sure?”

“Is that realistic?”

“What if it doesn’t work?”

“Why would you do that?”

I don’t know, Susan.

Maybe because it makes me happy.

You show them something you created, and instead of seeing the excitement in your eyes, they immediately search for the tiny crack in it.

You tell them you are planning something special, and they react as if you just announced that you are adopting a dragon.

Actually, I would like a dragon.

But that is another post.

The strange thing is that we often give these people enormous power.

One comment.

One raised eyebrow.

One little laugh.

And suddenly we start questioning something that made us happy five minutes earlier.

Maybe it is silly.

Maybe I am too old for this.

Maybe I shouldn’t be so excited.

Maybe my idea isn’t good enough.

And there it goes.

Poof.

No wand required.

We just allowed someone with zero abracadabra to walk away with some of ours.

I think we need better security.

Not fences.

Not alarms.

Not a large guard dog wearing sunglasses.

Although I admit that would be impressive.

We simply need to understand that not everyone has to understand our magic.

That is one of the most freeing things I have learned.

If something brings you joy and doesn’t hurt anyone, it doesn’t need a committee meeting.

You don’t need twelve signatures.

You don’t need permission from the Department of Acceptable Happiness.

And you certainly don’t need approval from someone whose emotional response to a rainbow is:

“It’s just light refraction.”

Yes, Professor.

We know.

Now please move. You’re blocking the rainbow.

Magic doesn’t always mean something enormous.

Sometimes it is drinking coffee from your favorite cup.

Buying a notebook even though you already own eleven notebooks.

Taking a picture of a leaf because this particular leaf is obviously different from the other 4,000 leaves you photographed last autumn.

Putting Christmas music on suspiciously early.

Dancing badly in the kitchen.

Writing something nobody asked you to write.

Laughing at a joke that isn’t particularly clever.

Looking forward to something small.

Believing that ordinary days can still surprise you.

That is abracadabra.

And as adults, I think we sometimes become embarrassed by it.

We learn to act reasonable.

Practical.

Serious.

We hide our excitement because someone might think we are childish.

But I don’t want a life where everything has to be useful before I am allowed to enjoy it.

I don’t want every dream to arrive with a spreadsheet.

I don’t want every happy moment to pass an adult inspection.

Some things can simply be wonderful.

Of course, there will always be people who don’t understand.

Let them.

They don’t have to clap.

They don’t have to join.

They don’t even have to believe in the same things you do.

But they also don’t get to decide whether your magic is real.

That part belongs to you.

So protect it.

Keep a little excitement for ordinary mornings.

Keep doing things that make absolutely no sense to people who have forgotten how to play.

Keep your strange traditions.

Your impossible ideas.

Your ridiculous enthusiasm.

Your eleven notebooks.

Okay.

Buy the twelfth one.

I am clearly not here to stop you.

Life gives us enough serious things without our volunteering to make everything else serious too.

So when someone arrives carrying a giant bucket of Zero Abracadabra, don’t argue with them.

Don’t try to convince them.

Don’t organize an emergency seminar called Why My Happiness Is Valid.

Just smile.

Take your magic.

And keep walking.

Because your life doesn’t need to make sense to everyone.

It just needs enough little sparks to make it feel alive.

Keep your magic.

Protect your abracadabra.

And if someone brings zero of their own…

please don’t let them borrow yours.

GK

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Published by georgi.kisyov

49 thoughts on “Zero Abracadabra”

    1. Oh, “minus zero” means we may have discovered an advanced case! But seriously, I’m really glad these words found you at exactly the right moment. Protect your balance, protect your joy, and keep a little Abracadabra safely tucked away where nobody else gets to touch it.
      GK

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      2. Omg there’s that delightful brilliant positive upbeat sense of humour i enjoy do much. Seriously every time I read abracadabra syndrome or not, I laughed loudly uncontrollably with gusto. 🤣 seriously. Because dang we have all met that person with no abradacabra that willingly rained an our parade downplayed our dreams goals wishes and delight.

        YOU’RE brilliant. As a child teenager adult. Isn’t it a bit risky? Out in kaftan field and willingly try to find the flaw.

        Thank you so very much, Georgie, for encouraging the abracadabra available to all of us, encouraging us sll to continue on, abracadabra on full display. ❤️ this post woot

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      3. Oh, this comment made *me* laugh! I’m delighted that “Zero Abracadabra Syndrome” had you laughing with gusto—that may be the best possible review for this post! We really have all met someone carrying that little bucket of rain, ready for our parade. Thank you for embracing the silliness and the deeper message behind it. Here’s to keeping our Abracadabra on full display—no permission required!
        GK

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    1. Haha, thank you so much! I’m starting to think “Zero Abracadabra” may have to become part of our official vocabulary now! I’m really glad it made you smile—that was exactly the kind of magic I hoped this post would create.
      GK

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    1. Oh, this made me smile! I’m especially happy that this one became your favorite. And apparently I wasn’t exaggerating at all—somewhere out there really is someone with the notebooks, the special coffee cup, AND the 4,000 leaf photos! Your Abracadabra levels are excellent! Thank you so much.
      GK

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    1. I love that saying! If little things make us happy, life gives us so many more chances to be happy. And you’re absolutely right—what could possibly be wrong with that? Nothing at all! Keep enjoying every little bit of Abracadabra you find.
      GK

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  6. I was born to be a maverick, an outside the box doer that others could not understand. As I aged (now 79) I adopted various coping skills. So when I encountered the deer in the headlights stares, when a reaction expressed the unspoken words, “No way you did that” I just keep doing – anyway. It’s always been in the doing, the solving, the daring to step beyond the norm, that fuels my creative energy. I smile at the naysayer and just do anyway.

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    1. I absolutely love “I just keep doing—anyway.” There is so much wisdom in that. We can spend our energy trying to convince the naysayers, or we can use that same energy to create, explore, solve, and keep moving forward. At 79, it sounds like your Abracadabra is very much alive and well! Keep doing anyway, my friend!
      GK

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    1. Haha, yes! Protectors of Abracadabra unite! Maybe we need an official club now—with only one rule: no eye-rolling at anyone else’s joy! I’m so glad this put a funny name to something you’ve experienced for so long. Keep that magic protected!
      GK

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  9. (sorry for the above typo- my elderly fingrers do not always do what I ask of them..)ZAS is indeed a Serious condition, for sure. I have been known to suffer from it myself, earlier in my life when ‘getting it right’ seemed the best way forward. Now I endorse abracadabra magic all day long as magic and love of life’s miracles seem to be one and the same. Great post, thank you.

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    1. I love that ZAS already has its own abbreviation! And what a beautiful thought—that magic and a love of life’s little miracles can be one and the same. Maybe one of the best parts of getting older is realizing that “getting it right” isn’t nearly as important as staying curious, joyful, and open to wonder. Thank you so much!
      GK

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    1. Thank you so much! “I can’t let it kill my sunshine” — I love that! Keep that sunshine shining and your Abracadabra safely protected. The Zero Abracadabra folks can keep their clouds; we have better weather to enjoy!
      GK

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  12. I think there’s an important difference between someone who helps us examine a dream wisely and someone who automatically drains the life out of it. We need people who will tell us the truth, certainly, but truth doesn’t require a raised eyebrow and a bucket of cold water. Sometimes the most loving response to another person’s delight is simply to delight with them.

    And I wonder if protecting our “abracadabra” is really about refusing to lose our capacity for wonder. Children can be completely fascinated by a bug on the sidewalk, a funny-shaped cloud, or a cardboard box that has suddenly become a castle. Somewhere along the way, adulthood convinces us that being impressed by ordinary things is unsophisticated. I think that’s rather unfortunate. There is already plenty in life that demands seriousness; we don’t need to manufacture more of it.

    And for the record, eleven notebooks is absolutely not too many. The twelfth may contain the brilliant idea the first eleven were clearly preparing us for.

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    1. I absolutely love this, especially the distinction you made between honest guidance and simply draining the joy out of someone’s dream. And yes, perhaps protecting our Abracadabra really is protecting that childlike ability to still be amazed by ordinary things. Life gives us enough reasons to be serious without our help! And thank you for confirming what I already suspected about the notebooks—the twelfth one is clearly essential.
      GK

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    1. Thank you so much! “Energy vampires” definitely sounds like a close relative of Zero Abracadabra Syndrome! I think protecting our energy and making room for the people and little things that bring us joy is always a good idea. GK

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  14. Oh my you wrote this about my hubby because so much of this is him to a T he doesn’t see the beauty in life or the magic around us, he wasn’t always like this but the older he gets the more he stops seeing and feeling happiness and joy around him. He thinks magic is a form of evil he is very negative in his outlook of life

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    1. I’m sorry to hear that. It can be difficult when someone we love experiences the world so differently from the way we do, especially when we remember them being different before. I hope you keep noticing the beauty and little joys around you, while leaving room for him to see things in his own way. Keep your own Abracadabra safe, my friend.
      GK

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    1. Haha, if your Unicorn approves, then I think this post has officially passed the ultimate magic test. I’m sure a Unicorn can spot Zero Abracadabra from a mile away. Please tell him to keep grinning—and both of you keep that magic safely protected!
      GK

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  17. It is a real condition! I think in some ways there is a little of this in each of us, we just can see it easier when we are on the receiving end. Or we see it with someone else. Watching the eyes will tell if we just zapped their light unknowingly. And that is all it takes to try not to rain on others joy.
    Great call out of this my friend!

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    1. This is such a thoughtful way to look at it. You’re right—there may be a little Zero Abracadabra in all of us sometimes, and it’s much easier to notice when someone is doing it to us! I especially love your point about watching someone’s eyes and realizing we may have accidentally dimmed their excitement. Protecting Abracadabra isn’t only about guarding our own magic—it’s also about being careful not to extinguish someone else’s. Thank you, Rosie!
      GK

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    1. Hahaha, exactly! A spatula microphone, completely questionable dance moves, and absolutely no concern for matching the beat—that sounds like premium-grade Abracadabra to me! The kitchen may disagree, but thankfully it doesn’t get a vote!
      GK

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  20. Mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa… Your writing delivers such a great point. Very relevant to my own self. I have been the person with the Zero Abracadabra Syndrome so many times it’s impossible to count. While I could often see afterwards what I had unintentionally done (dimmed the spark of enthusiasm), this post truly made me stop in my tracks. Having gone through the dark night of the ego (not soul), this may come down to strong fears and doubts that seem to linger. Thank you Georgi for the opportunity to reassess that response. Let’s awareness bring light.

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    1. Thank you for such an open and thoughtful reflection. I think there’s something powerful in being able to look back and recognize those moments—not to punish ourselves for them, but to become more aware the next time someone shares their excitement with us. Perhaps we’ve all had a little Zero Abracadabra in us at some point. The important thing is noticing it and choosing, whenever we can, to protect someone else’s spark instead of dimming it.
      GK

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    1. I love this! Sometimes our adult selves really do need to be told, “Thank you, but I’ve got this!” Giving ourselves permission to enjoy the magic without analyzing or explaining it may be one of the best gifts we can give ourselves. Keep enjoying every bit of it!
      GK

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  23. My neighbor who passed by said: what are you doing there? I said, I’m watching the sunset. I’m rare with this here.😁 They can just ignore the sunset, but me? Never the moment I see it unless if there’s emergency. Buyag lang.

    I just find little magic in simple things. Stay great, GK

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    1. I love this, Hazel! Some people see the sun going down; you see a reason to stop and watch. That’s exactly the kind of everyday Abracadabra I was talking about. Never lose that ability to find magic in something so simple, my friend. Stay great too!
      GK

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  24. Hi Georgi,
    I have a sneaking suspicion that you’ve just described the main problem my ex-husband had.
    But I’ve met other people over the course of my life who had absolutely zero abracadabra.
    As I read your text, I found myself shouting “Yes, exactly!” inside, and I’m glad I never let anyone spoil my own abracadabra.
    Thanks for this wonderful piece—it really made me happy.
    🧙‍♀️ Sandrine 💫

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    1. Hi Sandrine! 💫 I’m smiling at the thought of you reading along and shouting “Yes, exactly!” inside. 😄🪄 It sounds like you’ve encountered a few serious cases of Zero Abracadabra over the years, but I love that you never allowed them to take yours away. Thank you for such a lovely comment—I’m so happy this piece made you happy. Keep that Abracadabra well protected! 🧙‍♀️✨
      GK

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