In late March, while the ground was still covered in snow, and suntans and shorts were only a distant dream, I sat at the conference table in the Kutz Camp library and stared—confused—at a magic wand. It was a small thing- maybe 7 or 8 inches long- and when you turned it the glitter and sequins it contained floated from end to end.
I was  at a conference table full of strangers, trying  to figure out why, exactly, I was there. I knew, in theory. I knew that I’d heard great things about Kutz. I knew I wanted to try something new, something different, something a little out of my comfort zone.
So there I was, sitting at the table, staring at the wand, trying to figure out how I would fit in to this new, strange place.
The meeting continued. I listened to people speak with an enviable passion about a place that felt like home to them. About the people who would, in just a few short months, fill the physical space with warmth and love. I was excited.  I was nervous. I was inspired.  
What did this summer at Kutz mean to me?  It meant rediscovering  magic I  thought I had lost. That spark I did not know if I would see shine quite so brightly again.
The summer I was nervous and excited about has come and gone.  A few days ago I was sitting around the pool, surrounded by more than a hundred faces, toes dipped in the water, dripping wet, cold, and feeling happy. Happy and proud, and a little magical. Listening to each of those people surrounding me, one by one, describe how they felt magic here. Listening for almost two and a half hours as each person had something magical to say.
I felt that magic too. In the relationships I’ve formed with people, and the relationships I’ve watched those people form with each other. In the happiness that just seems to permeate this entire community. In the general love that I feel encompassing everything we do. In the strange traditions, and the services, and the song sessions that can be heard from half a mile away. In the way that people talk about this place—like it’s home.
I’ve learned, as I’ve grown older, that magic is rarely a spontaneous feat. Magic takes work. Magic takes planning. Magic takes dedication. Magic takes effort. We’ve done some incredible, magical things at Kutz this summer. Things that impacted and changed lives, not just our participant’s lives, but ours as well. I’m proud of the magic we’ve summoned here, and I can’t wait to see the magic yet to come- as our participants head home and realize that they have magic of their own.

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