The great (or funny?) thing about magic is that you can’t convince anyone of its existence. Either you believe in it, either you don’t. That simple. It’s not a matter of arguments: magic doesn’t fit in a world where science takes away the beauty of the starry sky by explaining it frame by frame. It’s not a matter of forcing, either: magic doesn’t claim a place in people’s lives and even less likes to sneak up in their worlds like a burglar. It’s not even a matter of proofs: magic dislikes attorneys, prosecutors and courts. And, anyway, people who love magic will be always the last ones trying to explain or prove it.
I’m not talking about the kind of magic displayed by Houdini or Criss Angel. It’s more that kind of magic that makes people … shine. Like in Stephen King’s “Shining”. Or like in John Lennon’s “Instant Karma!”. It’s that kind of magic that makes people believe in anything they want to believe in. And it’s also that kind of magic that allows people to see those green beads they’ve spilled yesterday on the table in ten million different ways and colours. The kind of magic that allows enchantment. And the kind of magic that allows people to navigate faraway in their fantasy lands and then getting back everytime with marshmallows for their dear ones.
Not everyone can love or understand magic. It’s more like a matter of either if you’re born with it or not. Like in that Maybelline commercial. : )) Magic is pretty much like talent: either you have it, either you don’t. You can’t learn talent. And you can’t learn to love magic. Appetite for magic can’t be thaught in schools. But a small child who grows genuinely loving magic will probably never lose that “appetite for marvel”, as Tolkien used to call it. All the contrary, that kid will grow inside his appetite for magic; and his appetite for marvel will get bigger and bigger, as he grows up.
You can’t learn magic, but you can’t unlearn magic, either. Magic is like a very, very delightful first love: no matter what you do, you’ll never be able to take it out of you and your bones. You can’t shake off magic. It’s like a weird charmed alphabet; once you’ve learn it, you just can’t go back to communicate using signs. Magic is a way of communication, too. But more like a secret language. Magic is what you call and know it’s “magic”. But magic is everything else, too. That’s the beauty of it. It doesn’t have any categories. It doesn’t have any borderlines. You can’t draw lines, either. You can’t say: “from here to here it’s magic, from there to there it’s not.” Magic is knowing and not knowing, at the same time.
Magic has a billion ways to show up. Criss Angel deals with a kind of magic, the type of magic that brings a lot of money in the bank. But that’s not the real magic. That’s just artificial magic. Silicone-magic. The world around, on the other hand… the world around is full of real magic. You can find magic in a stray dog’s chocolate eyes. You can find magic in a very starry night sky. You can find magic in a glass of ruby wine. You can find magic in a shiny autumn leaf. You can find magic on a bumpy and dusty road that connects two beautiful summer memories in your head. But just a few people are not imune to this type of magic. A very few.
You can find magic in people, too. Magic people shine, even if sometimes they might be struggling to hide that shining. Magic people are the few ones who get stuck in your mind, heart and blood, no matter what you do to shake them off. You may find them in the most usual and non-magic places: maybe in a crowded hypermarket on the way home, maybe under a palm tree on a sunny island or maybe handing you an umbrella when it’s pouring and it’s foggy. And if you’re magic, too, you can see them shining from miles. Even in the fog.
That’s the beauty of magic: sometimes you’re aware of it, sometimes you’re way behind. Magic doesn’t claim a place in people’s minds or lives. Magic doesn’t claim anything, in fact. Magic just gives. Magic creates, too: sometimes fantastic worlds, sometimes amazing situations and some other times incredible creatures. You can find all that in a writer’s head, in a surreal photo or in a fantasy movie.
But the most beautiful thing about magic is that magic doesn’t need attorneys, prosecutors, courts or scientists. Magic doesn’t need proofs or arguments. Either you believe in it, either you don’t. It’s that simple! Abracadabra!