Sunday, April 7, 2013

Magic in the World

I did not, as so often happens in stories, think that the whole thing had never happened. ...Every morning for months after my mom's accident, I had woken up believing it had all been a bad dream. I would never make that mistake again.
-from Beautiful Creatures by Kami Garcia

If there is magic in the world, to those who just deny it, it is all reverted to a dream. Blame the dreams, blame the one thing in your world that you cannot completely control, blame the universal scapegoat for things you cannot admit to yourself.

On the other hand, if there is magic in this world, there are those who stand on the other side of the scale: those who accept it, who welcome it into their lives, who know, without a sliver of a doubt, that it is just as real as we are (if not more so).

And then there's me. I'm trapped in the middle. I want there to be magic, but I can't accept it on faith alone. I can't accept anything on faith. I don't have whatever it is that allows people to do that. I'm a skeptic, a cynic  and a pessimist. My spirituality requires nothing of faith; it is merely a characterization of what I see in the world. Faith is believing without seeing, and I can see what I can see of the world.

I know there are other people like me. I don't think I've met any, but I know they're there. I've read things they've written, heard things that they've said, and I recognize their sameness.

I think it's sad that I'm like this, a might bit disappointing, almost as if I'm missing out on something. Maybe I am, but that part of me isn't going to change. You need faith in order to change, faith that whatever you're changing into is better than whatever you're changing out of.

That's one hell of a paradox. Literally.

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