The magic thing of beeing here

    You know, I do believe in magic. I was born and raised in a magic time, in a magic town... Among magicians.

    Most everybody else didn't realize we lived in that web of magic. Connected by the silver filaments of chance and circumstance.  But I knew it all along.

    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 to 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 path, and we’re told to be responsible . Told to act our age. 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, 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 heart-sad and not knowing why.

    I grew up here. I’ve spent the most of my life here. It’s what I wished for. And I like it like this. Warm, safe, loved.  That doesn’t mean there haven’t been hardships. They’ve been. But I’m here. And here is good.