The Magic Little Black Book That Changed My Life

My name is Exquisite Lee. As a career, I get paid for my creativity, and I'm about to tell you this story of a book that changed my life magically. I am the single mother of three, 30 years old and nothing to show for my life except tenacity. I dream big, I go hard, and I believe in the power a person holds to manifest the life they deserve, but it wasn't until I came across a little black book that I ever even thought of magic being real. I wrote in this book the same story I'm telling you. May this story fill your life with magic and prosperity.

This year started off so rocky, it's only February and for the past three and a half weeks my kids and I have been homeless living out of my car. Occasionally I get enough money to spend a night or two in a hotel. My kids (Paris 12, Payton 11, & Kayden 5) think we are on some kind of excursion, I feel as if I failed them.

To the world I'm seen as a starving artist, I paint what I call soul portraits, and only the law of attraction, manifesting, and “woo-woo” community get me. I also am a speaker with a desire to become the number one female transformational speaker and thought leader in the world. COVID shut down my paid speaking gigs, and that's when I started painting soul portraits and selling them online. What’s a soul portrait, you ask? Well, I have the ability to see auras, and I can also see the essence of your soul. When you speak, I can hear what you don't say. In your dreams, I can see the path your soul came here to walk. I draw and paint what I see, and those who purchase, they always shift into so much prosperity.

The problem is people think you need to believe in my work to buy from me, and that's where I have hit a roadblock. My speaker dreams, I sort of lost my will with COVID running rampant. I even wonder if I can impact the world the way I want to, and who will listen. Living in your car is quite the experience with kids. One day I was at the park while my kids attended a learning center. I use the time that they're at the center to think of a way out of my situation.

I sat on the park bench by the pond, watching the ducks, watching the sun glisten off the water and trying my hardest not to hear my thoughts. I just wanted to BE. Just be present. As I sat, a tear escaped my eye, and tears burned the back of my eyelids as I tried to hold the rest of the tears back and self-soothe by telling myself, “this is not the end, I am not my circumstances and they don't define me. Everything is always working out for me. I am a chosen one.” Those words barely escaped my mouth in the whisper that I heard.

Just as I was wiping my tears, a woman came and sat next to me. She was older and smelled like cinnamon spice. She never looked at me but said, “Life sometimes seems to be unfair, but life is magical. Life only seems to bully those who don't believe in magic.”

I just sat and listened. Old folks often speak in a riddle, but there's usually always a lesson.

“Art is magic. Do you believe in magic? You have art hands.” She asked with a smirk on her face as I looked at her, then I looked down at my hand that was in my lap.

“No, I don't believe in magic.” I said, “and art is just an expression that no one respects. Look at nature. The trees, the ducks, the water, the sun, feel the air blow and hear it whistle. Listen to the rhythm of your heartbeat, listen to the vibration of your words. That is art that the creator designed, an expression of his perfection, a masterpiece, but it yields no respect. People throw things in the water, people are so consumed with themselves they never stop to admire beauty, they take the sun for granted. Art is expression, the creator's expression of himself, of love, of abundance and prosperity, and people yield no respect.” I responded now crossing my arms, getting a little upset as I think about it.

The lady took a deep breath and a long sigh and said, “My dear child, art is the expression of magic. When you start to believe in magic, you will illuminate your life.”

She stood up and faced me as she handed me a little black velvet book that said, “May magic always live inside of you” in golden embossed letters in cursive font. She said, “May you fill the pages of this book with your heart's desires and believe in magic as they transform from the pages into your life.” I gave her a slow once-over.

At this point, I was conflicted between saying “No thanks, stranger.” And wondering if I don't accept, will she turn into the Enchantress on Beauty and the Beast and make me regret it? So, with that in mind, I slowly reached out my hand to take the book and I thanked her. As she turned to walk away, she said, “Magical things will happen from those pages.”

I opened the book to take a glimpse. All the pages were black. I laughed thinking either I need chalk or a metallic marker. I was curious what she meant about this book. I hopped in my car and drove to the store to get metallic markers and some chalk. I immediately drew what I felt. I drew my family and myself laughing together, watching a movie with my man. When I finished, I wrote “happily loving family” and I closed the book.

I went to pick up my kids and I had the crazy urge to hug and kiss them. They're 12, 10, and 5. They don't expect hugs and kisses at pick up, but I wanted to, so I did. After I kissed their cheeks, my oldest Paris says, “What's up with you?” I said, “I missed you.” We all piled in the car and buckled up.

My boyfriend calls asking if we would like red lobster and he will treat. This never happens, he's always too busy, so I said yes. We go out to eat and have so much fun, talking, laughing about light and heavy stuff, telling our dreams and goals and having fun. My boyfriend ended our night paying for a three-night hotel stay. He stayed with us as we all laid in bed watching a movie and laughing, and my oldest daughter, Paris, said, “I love our little happy family.” I immediately froze. I took in the scene as I sat still and alert, and the image of my book came to mind, and the lady's voice about the book being magic.

I waited until everyone fell asleep to look in that black book. When I opened it, the image I drew was the exact way I saw my family laying together in person. I was floored, and I stared at the image. It started to disappear, fading more each second until it was gone, and then only the words “happy loving family” were there. I was so confused. It couldn't be. Is this what the old lady meant by saying this book is magic? I had to know, I had to draw again.

While everyone was asleep, I locked myself in the bathroom with music playing and incense burning. This time I drew my dream body, slim-thick body figure, flat stomach and a big booty. I drew myself looking in the mirror saying, “Yesss, I love my dream body.” Then I shut the book, turned off my music, put the incent out and got in bed with my little happy family.

The next day my man woke me because he was leaving for work, so he said goodbye. I woke my kids to get dressed to go to the center. I started to get dressed to. After I put on my whole outfit, I went to look in the full-length mirror and guess what? My tummy was flat, my booty was bigger, and my hips even had some nice curves to them. I couldn't believe it, I looked at my body from all angles. My five-year-old son, Kayden, said, “Mom, what happened to you?” I turned to look at him and I heard Payton say, “Whoa, mom.” I immediately ran to grab my book and open it, the image I drew was disappearing and it eventually only left the words. “Yessss, I love my slim, thick body” in the middle of the page.

I believed it now, it was magic. This book and its pages. I've spent years trying to get rid of my belly, and all it took was a book overnight. That was the day I not only believed art was magic, but I believed IN magic. For the next few months I drew EV-ER-Y-THING!!!

I drew my kids and I, the most beautiful home, and titled the page “Our happy home.” I drew my man proposing to me and I wrote “Tarrin proposes to me in the most romantic way.” I drew my painting selling out and having a waitlist, and I wrote, “I am a world renowned artists, everyone wants my art.” I couldn't believe it. I never drew money because all I had to do was draw the thing that money could buy. Life was nice. I finally got my motivation back to speak, I drew myself on stages with crowds roaring, in arenas with thousands of people, and I would write, “I am a highly loved and respected speaker.” I wrote my kids to be successful with their YouTube dreams, and my son to have a perfect jump shot every time in basketball, and to perfect his speech, because even at the age of five he still has a little struggle.

One day I needed $20,000 because I wanted to give back, and I wanted to self-publish my first book. I finally had my home, dream man, happiness, my kids, had booming businesses, and my name was growing. I went to my hiding spot to get my journal and it was gone. My heartbeat sped up so fast I felt it come out my chest. I searched in panic, flipping things over, pulling my dresser drawers all the way out. Finally, my frenzy ended with me on my knees crying into my lap. If my notebook is gone, my magic is gone, I thought. I am finally living the life of my dreams, and I did it in less than a year. Yes, I got paid from painting selling out and speaking, but I invested it all in assets and stocks, I didn't actually keep any cash.

I went to my nearby bookstore the next day, just browsing. Out of the corner of my eye I see a person sitting at the end of a book aisle in a chair. I looked over and it was the old lady who gave me the book. I ran to her and said, “Thank goodness you're here. I lost my magic book.” She looked at me and smiled, and she said, “You can never lose it, it's in you. Do you believe in magic now?” I froze for a moment to search my mind for the meaning of whatever the heck she had just said.

As I'm thinking, she says, “When I met you, Chile’, you didn't believe in magic. You didn't believe art was magic. Do you still not believe in magic?”

I just barely got the words, “Yes. Yes, I believe in magic now.” I got the strangest feeling that she wasn't going to give me the book back. I shifted my eyes to look at her, my thinking had caused me to blank stare at the floor. As I looked up at her my feet felt anchored to the floor, she was no longer old, but beautiful. Young skin, long flowy hair, and beautiful caramel skin. Boy, am I glad I took that book, because I was scared that she might turn into an Enchantress, and would you look at that? What would have happen had I not taken the book, I thought in panic to myself.

Our eyes met. I saw her soul essence, what looked more like a galaxy to me, sparkly white particles and swirls of purple hues and silver tones and circular motions of everything. Her soul was nothing I had ever seen before. Though I knew my journal was gone, I attempted to ask about it again anyway.

“Ma'am, I need this $20,000. I need that book. There's a single mom living in her car with her daughter, she fled her state to run from her abusive boyfriend and I can help her.”

The woman replies, “So help her, Exquisite Lee.” She leans back in the chair, smiling. My voice went up an octave as I wasn't seeing the humor or the riddle, nor did I understand how she knew my name.

I replied, “I need the book back.”

She said, “The book is YOU! You are the magic. The magic is in you. Create the $20,000. When you no longer need the book, it goes. You believe in magic, right? Believe in you. You are the magic.”

My feet felt unanchored from the floor. I felt like I was floating. I understood. I understood exactly what she just said. She said that this whole time it was my art on those pages that came to life, me and my imagination, and my pen. All the time I thought I kept the book handy to illuminate my life, all the while I WAS THE MAGIC illuminating my life!!!

I hugged her and thanked her, hopped in my car and rushed home. I grabbed one of my journals, I had put all my journals aside because I had the ultimate journal. I wrote, “Bring me $20,000 in the most magical way.”

A week later, my publicist told me a celebrity talk show host and her people contacted her about interviewing me on the celebrity’s show. This was a dream I forgot to draw. I told my publicist to schedule it. That night I received a notification that I have received $20,000 in my bank account for an art purchase. I never knew who it was from.

A week later, I go on the celebrity’s talk show. The crowd cheers as I come out, she and I sit and talk.

Then we play a game, and she asks, “What would you do with $20,000 right now?” I told her all about the single mom I wish to help and publish my book. She says smiling, “I have something for you.” Someone comes out from backstage with a really large canvas of one of my paintings. I think back to the unknown $20,000 that pinged into my account that day, a week ago, this CELEBRITY ordered a $20,000 online piece of my art. I couldn't hold the tears back. Then her and a company called Snappafly gifted the single mom I wanted to sponsor $20,000 too, and she published my book for me!! On the stage as we wrapped up, she gave me a gift box with a bow. She said she had read the book that I wanted to publish, I asked how, she replied, “open the box.” When I opened the box, my velvet journal was in it with the words “May magic always live inside you.” When I flipped up in the journal, every page was full of words I had written for the book I wanted to publish. Somehow the book had my book written on the pages, and and the celebrity’s talk show host READ IT and wanted to publish it.

The magic little black book that saved my life always taught me to believe in my own magic. Magic isn't outside of you; it lives in breathes inside of you; because YOU are the magic.