Tag Archives: magic

I believe in magic

I am out traveling, but even then I wanted to write a short blog (yes, different from my oh-so-long ones). As I see more places, more people, more things, I see how beautiful this world truly is. And I believe in much more today than I did yesterday.

I believe in dreams. I believe in soulmates. I believe in love at first sight, candlelight dinners and roses. I believe in unkempt flower beds. I believe in sunsets. I believe in running barefoot on a sandy beach. I believe in a walk in the rain. I believe in dancing in the rain.  I believe that the smell of babies is the best in the world. I believe the fragrance of the first rain is the second best in the world. I believe that it is ok for real men to cry. I believe that tough men do dance.  I believe that gentlemen open doors for ladies. I believe in past life connections.  I believe in life after death. I believe that it is fine to be a child at heart and never grow up. I believe in what Robert McCammon said. I believe in magic.

“You know, I do believe in magic. I was born and raised in a magic time, in a magic town, among magicians. Oh, most everybody else didn’t realize we lived in that web of magic, connected by silver filaments of chance and circumstance. But I knew it all along. When I was twelve years old, the world was my magic lantern, and by its green spirit glow I saw the past, the present and into the future. You probably did too; you just don’t recall it. See, this is my opinion: we all start out knowing magic. We are born with whirlwinds, forest fires, and comets inside us. We are born able to sing to birds and read the clouds and see our destiny in grains of sand. But then we get the magic educated right out of our souls. We get it churched out, spanked out, washed out, and combed out. We get put on the straight and narrow and told to be responsible. Told to act our age. Told to grow up, for God’s sake. And you know why we were told that? Because the people doing the telling were afraid of our wildness and youth, and because the magic we knew made them ashamed and sad of what they’d allowed to wither in themselves.


After you go so far away from it, though, you can’t really get it back. You can have seconds of it. Just seconds of knowing and remembering. When people get weepy at movies, it’s because in that dark theater the golden pool of magic is touched, just briefly. Then they come out into the hard sun of logic and reason again and it dries up, and they’re left feeling a little sad and not knowing why. When a song stirs a memory, when motes of dust turning in a shaft of light takes your attention from the world, when you listen to a train passing on a track at night in the distance and wonder where it might be going, you step beyond who you are and where you are. For the briefest of instants, you have stepped into the magic realm.”

That’s what I believe in.

I believe in magic.

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