When Life Was Magic
I seem to remember that life was full with magic.
I seem to remember that not only was life full of magic, but that I was the magician. I could create anything, transform myself into anyone with nothing more than a simple thought.
I could easily believe that Santa Claus was in my house and that I just missed him, or that the easter bunny was there too, tempting me to damn my allergies to chocolate. My magical talents were at their best during these holidays, and halloween too. I did not feel foolish to believe that Christmas and Easter, and their respective mascots were all there for my amusement.
I would say ignorance is bliss, but I wasn’t ignorant. I was a child with an imagination and that imagination was my reality.
Aside from holidays, as a kid I could use my magic to transform myself into a completely different being altogether.
I used live on an acreage that was full of magic. One hour I could venture into the woods behind my house and become a hunter, searching for pesky coyotes to shoot with my rifle that resembled any random wooden stick. Once I collected as many coyote pelts as I could carry, I’d bring them back to the fort that I built with my brother. I’d hang the make believe pelts to let them dry. Why they were wet, I don’t know but it didn’t matter, I knew what I was doing. I was an experienced woodsman.
An hour later, I could be in the front yard playing with a wooden bow, made from an old shovel. Now I was Donatello from the Ninja Turtles fighting the evil foot clan and keeping my unsuspecting mother safe from them. Sometimes I’d be two people at once. Donatello would drop his bow and pick up a bull whip (a braided rope) and he’d instantly turn into Indiana Jones fighting with the rest of the turtles.
All I had to do was believe and everything else materialized on its own. I was a magician without observable tools – just a mind. I would use it and things just seemed to happen the way I wanted them to.
But now I’m older. Cynicism and skepticism have slowly crept into my once wild imagination. I mean, I still have it and use it but it’s different now. My imagination is used to either wonder how certain situations could play out or to create some type of art – a poem, a story, a drawing.
No longer does it have the power to recreate myself, and no longer does it believe in magic or that I was a magician. Instead – I know now that all I was was a believer in unending possibility. While that’s still fanciful, it’s not magical. It’s not as fun.
I know that I’ll never walk on the moon or be a big rock star. I know that the Santa Claus I used to picture hiding the coolest presents under the tree in my living room was invented by Coca-Cola. I know that this is life
I’m older now…and while I’m aware of all the awful things that happen in the world and that most things can be rationally explained, I would not go back to the ignorance I once had as a child. I would not go back to stare at shadows in the cave. Plato’s a bastard.
if nothing else, age makes you aware of your limitations. Age makes you realistic – for better or worse.
i think that some of that magic is still there when you help people escape to other worlds, or create something new and beautiful for someone to enjoy and lose themselves in.
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There is still magic. It’s just different. I know the first time I hold my grandchild in my arms it will be magical just like the first time I held each of my children and counted their tiny fingers and toes and put my nose in their soft little necks and breathed them in. That’s the REAL magic!
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I know what you are saying. As a kid I would have jumped…as a kid we are indistructable. Is it ignorance? Do we get smarter as we get older? or do we just get more afraid? We earn our scars out of bravery, but then fear them later. Are we learning a lesson, or are we denying ourselves the pleasure?
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wow, its been a while since i’ve been to your diary! i love it! and… ryn: … -_-… I fixed it.. I’m a retard. I know what DP is.. I just.. got *DT* stuck.. in my head..
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Well…it is a little shocking to be completely honest. But now that my hands have stopped shaking and I’m no longer freaking out, I’m rather happy about the whole situation. =)
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I think we all have memories like these…not the same but the innocence was there. Children need to have that sort of play, that is part of them. Not all are as vivid as others, but it is still just as great. As we grow older (not saying you are old dear LoL) our visions change and hopes and dreams. And the talent you have for writing was in this entry once again. You need to do more of it, as I have always told you. I don’t think you realize what a great writer you are. Not everyone can think and write like you do. Blessings to you and I’ll be talkin to ya later. Hugs!
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i would sure like to visit the ignorance of childhood. i miss those days. dude, i so used to play with a wooden bow like i was Donatello! my friend and I both had one. Mine was from an old broom. ha!
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I grew up in the middle of nowhere and had to laugh as you made me remember imagining so many similar scenarios! It is odd to think how easy it was to pretend back then…But there really wasn’t much else to do, I suppose. I agree, I would not want to go back if I had the choice. I loved my childhood, but appreciate the increased clarity age has brought (most of the time).
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i know what you mean. I miss the magic but wouldn’t want to go back. x x x
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I watch the little kids by my house play those games.
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random noter: I think about the way I was a child a lot, free and imaginative, with all that magic you’re talking about. But, I don’t think all of that disappears entirely just because you grow up and know better. While I know there are limits, I also know that limits can be broken, and I don’t see anything wrong with testing them. Adults can put their imaginations to use through music, writing, inventing, or a number of other ways, and it is just as rewarding as fancying yourself as a magician. 🙂
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RYN: I can understand how you feel.
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Music has the power to bring me back to childhood, to remove all sense of realism from the world. It’s one of the reasons I’m so thankful for not having roommates. There is no one to catch me when I’m singing at the top of my lungs and imagining the crowd going crazy.
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I couldn’t help but giggle at your description of the coyote pelts. It reminded me of “Canadian commonlaw marriage.” hahahaha
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