|Vintage magic poster.|
I believe in magic. Whether sleight of hand or sleight of mind, I believe we perform it. It is part of the current that carries us through. Unsung, perhaps never mentioned, the multiple acts of small magic with which we conjure on a daily, or more frequent basis serve to levitate us above, well, all that isn't magic.
No need to pretend that life does not deliver leaden moments, sleepless nights, hand-wringing and tears of oh-so-many descriptions. It is small magic that rescues us from being wedged into those tight spots we thought inescapable.
My magic list includes (as I've mentioned so often) the color red, being surprised at my own explosive laughter, friends and family and love, each new day, sleep, encouraging words, good news, our Southern California version of stormy weather, really delicious coffee, getting warm when I'm cold, signs of intelligent life, the fact that people play music and write books and make movies, the experience of impossible things happening, all wonders created by man and nature, the ability to change my mind, dark chocolate (alas, in moderation), poetry (in unlimited quantities), kindness, beauty, making things with my hands.
There is no true magic too small to be counted. The simple act of noticing, of knowing, makes us participants. "Is THIS your card?" Astonishment, admiration. "Yes, that's my card." How many moments in a day deliver impossible results no less remarkable.
And this, the power of words, the minds and souls to which we turn for incantations:
“She conceived of life as a road down which one traveled, an easy enough road through a broad country, and that one's destination was there from the very beginning, a measured distance away, standing in the ordinary light like some plain house where one went in and was greeted by respectable people and was shown to a room where everything one had ever lost or put aside was gathered together, waiting.”
― Marilynne Robinson,