Magic, Miracles and the Inexplicable

Magic is a mystery to a lot of people. A lot of people who make up the rest of the world that doesn't believe in the unseen and the unspoken. Of course, we know different. We, being the 15-20 percent of the world that knows that magic is simply the manifestation of what our imaginations have already known to be real. Most would have us believe that imagination is simply make-believe. That's it. End of the story. Nothing more than wishes and fantasy contained within the untouchable clouds that somehow suspend themselves in the air above us.

A part of me still believes in the idea of angels. Those unseen spirits that come around to guide, comfort, help, inspire, and at times even rescue us. The other part of me realizes that angels are both seen and unseen. They can be whispers of our own selves, not bound by the continuum of space and time. They can be a fictional being that exists in our hearts and our minds, and yes, perhaps in other realms we have yet to understand or discover. They can be someone we come across in this realm, that we see every week or that we only know exists, but somehow feel as though we've always really known them. We don't see them yet, we don't actually know them. But we feel their energy, we hear some of their thoughts, we feel what they need to share with us in a sort of telepathic exchange that we learn not to question.

Sometimes we suddenly realize that we might be someone else's angel. We've crossed paths unknowingly and the connection may seem insignificant until we have a true conversation. The kind of conversation that happens when the stars are aligned just right, I suppose. The kind of conversation I had yesterday. "Mr. Lemon-Lime," I'll call him. A kind man in his 40's who always takes the time to say hello, swap vendor horror stories and supply me with more free energy drinks, tea and expensive spring water than I can fit in my one car garage. I offer him chips, cookies and crackers in return, but he always refuses.

After the brief bitching about the industry we're in and his comments on how I'm open, honest and just "tell it like it is," he said that he would like to run into me in ten years. He tells me about how I'm further along at 33 than he ever was, that he'll probably ever be. He tells me how he thinks I'm really smart, have my life together, about his gambling problem and how he finds inspiration in the fact that I once had $30,000 racked up on credit cards and managed to pay it all off. He admires my ambition and drive and is in awe that I can work 10-14 hours a day and attempt to complete a degree at the same time. I tell him about my writing, my plans to break up with the boyfriend and finally head west. He says I won't have any problems finding someone new and that he has faith that I'll "do good." He says he's about to cry and that sometimes he feels insignificant in comparison when he talks to me. I tell him I don't think I'm that much smarter than anyone else and that I'm actually a lot further behind at 33 than I had originally planned. He says it's probably because I put too much pressure on myself, my standards for myself are higher than most and that I should take the time to have fun. Inside I smile because I know he's right.

That conversation took twenty-five minutes on a Friday morning in the midst of our busy schedules. Unplanned. Unrehearsed. Certainly unexpected. Words filled with a little bit of everyday magic, miracles and the inexplicable.

Perhaps ten years from now when I'm looking at the sun set over the Pacific and I look at my finished novels, screenplays or whatever forms of writing my ambitions lead me into, I'll fondly remember those twenty-five minutes on a Friday morning. At least, I hope so.

Walt Disney said "I only hope that we don't lose sight of one thing-that it was all started by a mouse." When we finally start living what we hoped would someday be true, we should remember that it all started within our imaginations.