Becoming Dorothy

Me as Dorothy, age 10

By Magda Pfunder


This is the story of how a witch changed my life.

The universe, the way I see it, wants each one of us to learn very specific ideas. And when it has something to tell you, it’s like everything you read, everything you watch, everything you find on the internet bangs you over the head with the same message, over and over again until you’re sick of it. Well, the universe started young with me. When I was five years old, I was Dorothy Gale and “[I] had the power in [me] all along”.

I remember my father reading me The Wizard of Oz every night. I didn’t understand why he loved it so much. It was fun, I guess. And I took to it really well. I listened to every word of that book as well as a kindergartner could and after the book came the movie, and the Halloween costumes, and, as I got older, short discussions with my father about exactly why the book was such a masterpiece.


The Scarecrow is the smartest one in the book, he would tell me. The Tin Man has the biggest heart, and the Cowardly Lion teaches all of us what courage really is. None of them really realize who they are or what they can do. They search for something that doesn’t need to be found because it was with them the whole time. 

And Glinda, being Glinda, ties up the entire idea with a pretty little bow right at the end of the story, so that we’re sure not to miss it:

“You had the power in you all along, my dear.”

It was this idea, these words coupled with the brilliant irony contained in the characters of the Scarecrow, the Tin Man, and the Cowardly Lion, that would come back to me again and again over the years. The Scarecrow often came to me in math class, when failed equation after failed equation would convince me that my brain is just not cut out for math. The Cowardly Lion would be in my thoughts during every audition, every presentation, everything I did that scared the living daylights out of me. And when I had my first broken heart, the Tin Man taught me how to forgive and move forward. It was through them that I found things inside of myself that I didn’t realize were there. It was through them that I found strength to do things I never thought I would be able to do.

Well that’s nice, I thought. I can be anything I want to be. With a good message under my belt, I was ready to go off and find some more. But of course the universe was not through with this one just yet.

Years would pass and I would find myself watching Dead Poets Society, again with my father. I found myself entranced by a story about two boys, Todd and Neil, finding themselves through poetry and theater, very much as I did. And there, hidden in an on-screen poetry class, was Henry David Thoreau’s beautiful imagery of a life lived to its fullest:

“I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately… and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived… I wanted to live deep and suck all the marrow of life”.

I didn’t quite understand this until I saw it portrayed on screen. But there it was. The same message that the Wizard of Oz had taught me so many years before. I recognized it in Todd’s growing confidence, and I saw it in Neil’s desire to do what he loved, despite the opposition he faced. It came to me out of the powerful imagery of “suck[ing] all the marrow of life”- of using every tiny bit of time that you have to live the life that you want and to do the things that make you happy. Todd and Neil wasted no time getting started on their lives. They made no excuses. They decided what kind of life they wanted to live, and then they went for it. They realized that nothing was holding them back from becoming whoever they wanted to be.

“[They] had the power in [them] all along”.

But why? Why was the universe hitting me over the head with this? What use could I possibly have for it? I get it, I told myself. I can be a math person if I want. I can move to Paris if I want. I can become an artist, a dancer, a singer. I can learn to ride a unicycle, for crying out loud. I get it.

But I didn’t, really. No. Not until my parents got divorced. 

Suddenly I wasn’t the Scarecrow, or the Tin Man, or the Cowardly Lion anymore. I was back to being Dorothy. Lost, alone, searching for home. Looking for any place where I could feel like things were all right, like things were normal again. Happiness became something foreign, something that was out of reach, something that I needed to find.

It wasn’t until now that I understood why Glinda didn’t share with the Scarecrow, the Tin Man, or the Cowardly Lion her famous parting advice. She shared it with Dorothy. I mean, it obviously applied to the others. But she didn’t say it to them because they didn’t need it. It was during this time that Glinda’s words took on a whole new meaning for me. And I finally understood why Dorothy needed to hear them, and not any of her sidekicks. 

“You had the power in you all along, my dear”.

Dorothy had the power to go home. Anytime she wanted. There was nothing that she needed to find, no place that she had to get to. The key to her happiness was in her own two feet. She had to choose whether to go home or not. It was never anything more than her own choice.

I had the same choice. I realized that Glinda’s soft declaration was not some observation about growth or development. It was not a pat on the back to people who finally discovered their own strength. It was a mantra of hope to someone who was hopeless. It was a testimony about what kind of power we have over our own happiness. Happiness wasn’t going to come once my circumstances changed, or once I found whatever magic escape I was looking for. I had the power to make myself happy. I had the power to be happy exactly where I was. 

This idea changed my life. My home became anywhere I wanted it to be. My happiness stopped being a mere feeling and became something much more constant. Something that could exist even in the hardest of times. In Glinda’s words I found peace. Strength. Power.


A power that had been in me all along.

Image Credit: Jodi Pfunder