“When did we all stop believing in magic? Why did we put all our hopes in a box in the attic?”~ Katy Perry “Daisies”
I was at work when I first heard the song that the above line came from. It harkened my mind back to one of my favorite quotes, a sentiment that was echoed by something Madeleine L’Engle penned in her essays on imagination:
“The artist, if she is not to forget how to listen, must retain the vision which includes angels and dragons and unicorns and all the lovely creatures which our world would put in a box marked ‘Children Only.”~ from Walking On Water: Reflections on Faith and Art
I wrote a blog post last year about why I use the phrase “Stay Magical” all the time in my writing and why I choose to write in the fantasy genre in the first place. But I feel I must revisit that topic from time to time, especially when I get to feeling down in the dumps and that my writing is worthless and no one cares. (Side note, I know people care, the voices in my head sometimes still rear their ugly heads.)
Magic is all around us, if we take the time to look. It’s in the way people believe the stories of their religions with unwavering faiths. The magic is there, in the comments from people who are touched by the words I try to pen. There is magic in a smile, a gesture, a gift unexpected but welcome. It’s seeing the birds fly from tree to the bird feeder outside my window right now and watching the antics of my cats as they stare in wonder. It’s in the mystery of Santa Claus, the Tooth Fairy, or the Easter Bunny at certain times of the year.
But it’s not just for children and it shouldn’t be kept in some box in the attic.
For me, it’s not much harder while watching a sunset to see Krysanthe flying towards the kingdom to Tellarius with Briar and Soli astride (as they did in my novella Little Sprite). Nor is it hard, when watching a train go by, to think of the Polar Express or the platform at 9 and three quarters. Nights bring to mind the time Aslan gave his life at the Stone Table to appease the Deep Magic or the Murrys meeting Mrs. Whatsit in their kitchen during a storm. I marvel at every wonderous thing I have ever seen or read, collecting them into my imagination even as I spin new stories.
Magic is faith in things unseen.
Magic is joy in the little things.
Magic is hope that no matter what, there is something worth fighting for.
Magic is love.
So why, as adults, do we need to stop believing in magic, like it’s something that becomes negative as you age?
Dear readers, dust off that box in the attic. Keep your visions of fancy and believe in magic again. Learn to listen to your imagination. See the fairies that flit in the summer breeze and the pixies that use maple leaves to fly down from their perches. Imagine dragons in the sky or the spells of the Bearer of Nature as lightning crosses the clouds. Find ways to see the magic in the most mundane as you continue to write your story of life.
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2 thoughts on “Magic”
What an absolutely magical and inspiring piece! I love how you mention the wonders tucked into every day life…smiles, gestures, birds, etc. How much nicer life is when we actually see those treasures for what they are instead of passing them by. I love when my (or someone else’s) imagination takes flight with the most mundane things….the retired gentlemen’s group that meets daily at the coffee shop most recently became the Elders I needed in one of my tales. Thank you for continuing to share your magic! 💞💞💞
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You are very welcome!
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