The Magic
I love the magic.
“Ash, Santa, the Easter Bunny and the Tooth Fairy aren’t real…”
Whether it was a classmate, friend or family member that told you - there was a day that “the magic” ceased to exist. This was, quite frankly, a devastating truth for me. Things that appeared so real suddenly became ludicrous to believe in. I suddenly saw the charade that takes place to make things happen. The natural flow of things and removal of the supernatural.
As a kid I always had goosebump moments. I could never quite explain why - but it would be a beautiful song sung, hot cocoa as we toured the neighborhood Christmas lights, or the crisp cool air as snowballs whirled around me. There were moments where time seemed to stand still, and for once you could really soak in your surroundings. Everything was still moving, but you were able to enjoy each part of it: the smells, the sound, and the visuals; all wrapped up in a single feeling; joy.
I always get sad this time of year. I wait for a special moment where I feel whisked back into my childhood. The moments of anticipation, preparation and presence. Moments where it is OK to just be and allow the joy of the season to take hold. Silly moments, impromptu and time stopping activities. Things that don’t need to be scheduled or timed. There is no rush, no ending in sight and of course no guilt. An opportunity to release worry - to have fun.
Where’s the magic?
If you walked into my apartment and skimmed my bookshelf you would think a 13 year old lives in my home. There are stories about vampires, wizards and superheros - stories of love, triumph and boldness. Stories full of moments that bring me back to being a kid. These stories fill my shelves. They allow me to escape. Escape into something that once was in attempts to bring it to life today.
If you’re like me and you’re missing the magic - try writing down your favorite memory as a kid. Got it? Who in your life can you re-create that for?
This Thanksgiving I will head down to Hope Street. I will prepare dishes that my grandma and my mom taught me. I will play music, sample as I cook and be “interrupted” by kiddos who no doubt will continually ask me “what are you doing?” And I will stoop down and whisper... “look at the magic - capture it and hold tight”
What’s the magic?
For me, it’s simply presence. The ability to be OK in your own skin and then to invite others to do the same. It’s taking a deep breath and being ready for whatever the next moment holds - unplanned. It’s baking cookies, hiking in the woods, watching a classic movie, singing Christmas Carols and so much more. We are kids for a season, but the things that give us life serve a purpose and I think one is to simply be able to share. We all have those favorite traditions; things loved ones taught us and those we have chosen to pass on. It can be hard when those traditions seem to have been outgrown or the people who taught them to you are are gone. This can be part of the sadness, but I think it is also where we are asked to stretch ourselves. To allow the magic to be transferred. From around you to inside of you, ready to burst out and be shared with others.
Share the magic.
“The value of the myth is that it takes all the things we know and restores to them the rich significance which has been hidden by ‘the veil of familiarity.’ The child enjoys his cold meat, otherwise dull to him, by pretending it is buffalo, just killed with his own bow and arrow. And the child is wise. The real meat comes back to him more savory for having been dipped in a story…by putting bread, gold, horse, apple, or the very roads into a myth, we do not retreat from reality: we rediscover it.”
― C.S. Lewis, On Stories: And Other Essays on Literature