Saturday, March 23, 2013


Do  you believe in magic? A few of you shook your heads and an even smaller number nodded in agreement. Don't worry I used to be one of those people who couldn't decide. So if you made a decision you're already doing better than most people. There's magic in every day. Everyday things that you can explain are magic. It's in every moment of every single day. Now you are lost and I'm very certain THAT IS THE POINT. If you've ever seen a butterfly escape from it's cocoon then you know exactly what I'm talking about. That's magic. And if you capture a moment of every day you would see the magic in it. It's in knowing the explanation that makes magic lose it's spectacular shiny coat of paint. For most people...

Would knowing how the magic trick worked make you "more in awe" or "less in awe" of it? How you answered that question lets you know what side of the fence you sit on.

Magic. It is real. It is in everything. There is magic in you. You are capable of more. Remember that.

Kisses, m.
photo credit: c/o


The only thing I’ve ever known of magic is illusion. And illusions are a trick of the eye and mind. There it is not happening right in front of you, but your mind tries to fill in the blanks and connect the dots to make a bigger picture look real. It isn’t happening, you only think it is. Magic tricks are in the mind. If you knew the truth would that make the illusion any less real?

It’s 9 o’clock sharp on Monday morning. I’m on time for my scheduled appointment with the newest magician on the scene. There’s a secretary behind a u-shaped counter and she keeps telling the ringing lines. Thank you for calling ‘The Box’ where beauty is no longer an illusion.

Nothing prepares you for the real life illusions. The ones that seem too good to be true. Beauty is one of those and in that respect only real in the eye of the beholder.

When I was a child, a young girl of thirteen my father took me to a magic show. There were men that could make snakes dance with a tune from a flute, men that had beautiful girls swallow swords with ease, and men that could pull rabbits from hats and other things from mysterious objects. But there was only one man that had my full attention that night. He could make a grown man disappear, a woman fly without wings, and then most importantly he could change you into to something else and it wouldn’t hurt one bit. And he could do this with no more than a box and some knives. This is what he promised, and we all were captivated. My own heart betrayed by desire couldn’t stop beating in my chest. I wanted him to change me. Do it with the greatest of ease.

Upon meeting this newest magician I’m immediately apprehensive because he isn’t what he seems to be. He looks the part and wears the proper identification. And the words are coming out of his mouth. They are convincing. But he doesn’t reap the rewards of his craft. More and more the words keep coming out of his mouth. The same words I’ve heard in the testimonies. Those statements from your friends and colleagues that reaffirm the thing you’re about to experience is in fact “The thing that changed my life” and “I don’t know who I was before this changed me.”

The trick with anything new, whether it’s a toaster or a plate of spaghetti, is that once you believe it will change your life it will. Whether you need it or not.

So I’m here thinking that this man, this new magician that claims he “can change you” will do it. I’ve seen what he can do. I've seen the results with my own eyes. A little off the side, the top and the back without leaving a mark and they all swear by it. The man that charms the snakes, the woman swallowing the swords, the flying girl with her body off of the ground all happen and I saw them. It was really happening and it changed everything.

When this man asked for a volunteer from the audience I couldn’t help but jump with joy. Two lovely assistants came down from the stage and called me out. Although my father was skeptical he let me go but not before a warning.

My father grabbed my arm then leaned close and whispered in my ear, “He’s no more than a man with illusions. Don’t be fooled by them.” It was his way to protect me from disappointment. But nothing my father could say would make the magic any less real. You know the old saying as long as magic lives in your heart, it will stay alive in your head. From this moment I knew that this was really happening in front of my eyes. The man did disappear although we do not know where he went. The girl is off of the ground but we do not know how, only that it is happening.

Getting up on the stage led by a pair of women to a large box. The kind that looks a little like a coffin but partitioned. I’m told to take off my shoes and get inside. From the audience you can’t see the inside of the box. I’m securely fastened in from three sides and top and bottom. My head freely able to view the stage.

“You know what you’re doing?” I ask him as he gets out the sharp blades. There are three distinct carving tools. I’m waving my hands and smiling while he talks. 
“Don’t’ worry darling. I do this every night.” Although he says the words and I’m overjoyed to be experiencing this moment of transformation, I still can’t quite shake this feeling of apprehension that rests within me. He starts cutting into the box. Slowly. The house lights are far too bright for my eyes. I can’t see anyone but I can hear them breathing. Silent gasps on the brink of amazement.

The new magician tells me he does this all time while I sit at home. This is all business as usual. While I quietly knit a scarf he is out making things disappear and bending the laws of gravity upon his command. According to him Abra-Cadabra is not as important of a phrase as Here and Now. He says no more than this, as a true magician never reveals the truth behind his illusion. Playing God with the simple skills of the hand. Sitting still behind his Englin desk with his Prada button up shirt he mouths the words, “Not to worry. Nothing can go wrong.”

We are not really sawing me in half.

According to him and them, this is what will save me. Pulling me apart and reconnecting me will change everything. This thing that will make me appreciate beauty that way they see it. This will make the illusion real for me. Happening to me so they can all see the change.  The performances we make aren’t for ourselves, it’s so others will see us differently. Because we don’t like the way we see ourselves, so we think that others can not possibly enjoy it either.

Two lovely women gather me up and take me to the place where it will happen. The lights are brighter as the table turns. Count back from ten they tell me. Slowly. I can see the beads of sweat run across his brow and the smiling assistant the wipes it clean while he prepares to work. Precise movements while performing an illusion. When this is over you will have changed and never know the difference. Abra-cadabra.

The truth is that you will believe what your mind is convinced of. Even when you know it’s a lie. If your mind makes it real then it’s true. Even when you know it to be wrong, you make it right. When he tells me that these small things will change me I believe him. When I wake up I will be different. And I will.

More and more I try to convince myself of this fact as he carefully slides the blade in. He winks and smiles to the crowd. Every movement is elongated and lengthened into a struggle. Although there is no real conflict he appears to make one for the showmanship of the craft. This is only an illusion. We are not really going to split me into two. Obviously there are limits to his abilities as a performer and there’s no chance of something bad happening.

The only reason some illusions work because they are real. You can be disappointed by the reality. The new magician smiles and tells me “you’ll look better in a few days” and then hands me a small mirror.

They did not saw me in half.

I try to tell myself that all these little lines that run across my face are part of the illusion. “The swelling is part of the healing process” he lifts my gown to reveal thirteen bruises across my breasts connected by two tiny lines. Stitching that marks the skin although he tells me ‘there is no permanent scarring” and I will be perfectly fine. Eventually.

The man and two assistants take me apart and spin me around so everyone can see how different I am. Special. Always staying me only different. I can’t see the reality that I’m not really in two pieces. Then they put me back together. But I’m not ordinary anymore. I’ve been transformed by this act. Everyone saw me change and change back again. Magic.

Magic is in the mind. You believe it because you want to. Look how different I am, but I don’t feel any different. The change is real but the reality is that I’m not any different. The truth is there revealing that it happened. The marks looking back at me completing the illusion.

This is how you make an elephant disappear. Distraction. Tell the people what they’re supposed to see and they might just believe it.

On the way home my father asked me if I was disappointed that there was no magic in the trick. I told him, “But Daddy, didn’t you see it. They cut me in half.”

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