I love magic. Pull out a rabbit from the hat, a pigeon from somewhere, a scarf…chop a body into two. I have sat transfixed and watched. Because it is about playing games with the eyes and the mind. It isn’t only about the magician. It is about us. What do we see, how?
That is the reason I am fascinated by the term magic realism. It is about reality extending itself. In some ways, we are talking about hallucination, but at a deeper metaphysical level it is also about rising above that reality. See, when you jump, just for the few seconds when your feet are above the ground, you feel different. You are thinking of touching the ground, but you are also closer to nothingness. You can experience the rush.
I don’t know where magic carpets take you, or what rubbing a lamp and finding a genie can get you. I do, however, know that there are times when the disconnect with what people like to call normal and real gives me a strange sense of contentment.
Sometimes pain does that, too. If you can feel the pain for long and then slowly let it overpower you, you become its slave, do its bidding, cry, and hold that part of you that aches, swallow bitter pills till you choke…and then you feel you are not important at all. You are just that pain. That is magic.
Watch yourself smile. We don’t. Others watch us. We shower smiles on others. We return smiles. We do not smile at ourselves. I do. I sit before the mirror and do that. It is magic. Unreal.
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For now, watch some magic…it is all about being and becoming...