Do You Believe in Magic?

“The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars”  —Jack Kerouac

I’ve been watching the Harry Potter films recently.  Somehow, I’ve never managed to watch more than sporadic scenes from the first two films, even in all of my days as a professional nanny and daycare instructor.  So inevitably, with all of those wizards, and warlocks and dragons and wands, one cannot help but to think about magic.

How do you define magic in modern day terms?  When something is enchanted or magnificent beyond explanation, when you are bewitched or befuddled, in awe, wonderment, or just plain stupefied?

Yoga has helped me believe in magic.  When you live in the present moment, the mundane can easily become mystical.  When you believe that everything has its place, its moment, its reason, its purpose, life becomes riddled with omens and enchantment, glamour and pizazz; abracadabra and hocus-pocus.

I remember growing up feeling like my dad was a little bit like a magician.  One year on Easter, when I was maybe thirteen, I woke up and opened my bedroom door at the end of our hallway and criss-crossing every inch of that hallway was a rainbow-colored spider web of yarn blocking the way into the rest of the house.  I mean, it was like Spiderman ate some mushrooms and just got really INTO it, you know?  My teenaged jaw dropped simultaneously in awe and annoyance, “What on Earth?”  He heard me wake up (my dad, not tripped-out Spidey) and then rushed out of his room, with a gleam in his eye that could only be described as childish delight and said, “wait, wait!”  He ducked back into his room and came out with an empty toilet paper roll.  My sister woke up to the commotion, and then my mom, both with mouth agape and sleepy-eyed eyes wide, and were each handed a cardboard roll.  We had to wind up the color of yarn that corresponded to our door and follow it throughout the house.  My dad must have stayed up FOR HOURS, because it took me at least forty-five minutes to follow my yarn to its end.  It wound through the house, into the back garden, through a key hole and a locked door (no idea how he did THAT), into a shoe, and even was frozen into an ice cube tray before finally leading to the dryer, where stashed inside was my Easter basket.

I suppose this was something we were used to by now.  He is the guy that you’d want to draw your name for the Christmas gift exchange, because he would wrap your gift in a box inside a box inside a box inside a pumpkin!  Never mind that the pumpkin, he’d been stashing in the basement since Halloween.  One year, when my sister lost a tooth, he snuck into her room while she was sleeping and hung individual candies from fishing line from her ceiling.  Imagine, being a seven year-old, who still believes in the Tooth Fairy, waking up to a cloud full of candies seemingly hung from gossamer threads, suspended in mid-air by none other than that mischievous Dental Dryad, herself.

What I’m getting at is that I think it’s important to make a little magic for someone from time to time.  Be it a friend, a lover, a child or a parent.  To go that extra effort to make something extra special, extra romantic, extra impossible, extra un-ordinary.  To sneak and plot and plan and scheme, all with the goal of imbuing an eye-popping, cheek-slapping, mouth-gaping expression of delight on the recipient.

Because, who doesn’t need a little magic in their lives from time to time?

Happy Belated Father’s Day, Bobbio.  Thank you for infusing my life with magic.


3 Comments (+add yours?)

  1. Sweaty Girl Confessions
    Jun 23, 2012 @ 17:26:35

    LOVE the quote 🙂 and your post!


  2. Debbie Keoughan
    Jun 24, 2012 @ 21:40:06

    Love your story, very blessed girls in that family , for sure….


  3. risingontheroad
    Jun 26, 2012 @ 23:16:10

    Lovely to hear of the magic of a little effort – all too easy to forget.


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