Believing In Magic Again

There are only two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle.
~ Albert Einstein

I recently watched an online video of a magician doing an amazing show with cards. It was great. One part of me was in awe the whole time - amazed by his skill and the wonder of it all. But there was another little part of me who kept saying, "It's all sleight of hand," and looking for the loopholes so I could uncover his secret.

I wanted to smack that part of me and tell her to shut up so I could enjoy the magic show.

Adults kind of suck.

We see magic, and we know we're being duped (albeit in an entertaining way), so our critical mind kicks in and we try to figure out how it all works, where the cards are coming from, and we search for the secret compartment.

Children, however, are awed by everything. You tell them it's magic and they think it's incredible. They don't feel the need to understand how or why. They're happy to be in awe. They watch the show and feel like there are mystical things in the world that they may never understand or be able to explain and that's the amazing part of life.

Because there are.
And that is.

As adults, we don't just let the magic happen anymore. We don't appreciate the awe.

I have watched my nieces and nephews grow up. I remember when they were younger and I would show them a trick and they would eat it up and believe that there was something called magic in this world and it was inexplicable and amazing.

Now, when I show them a trick, they look into my eyes with that desire to believe - with that "could it be?" glint in their eyes. But there is a difference. They have been taught that magic doesn't exist, but they still think it might. They still want to believe it does. Like maybe there is some secret community of magicians who know the truth about magic - and the fact that it is, indeed, real. And they look at me hoping  I will confirm what they truly believe: that magic and miracles are real. That beautiful, inexplicable, unbelievable things still do exist.

(Because they do.)

So I smile at them with that sly look that says, "You'll never know."

And a part of me hopes they don't - that they don't ever find that secret compartment, that they never figure out the sleight of hand, the flick of the wrist.

When I look at my older nieces and nephews, I don't see that shine in their eyes, that belief in something awe-inspiring anymore. And I don't know when the shift happened.

But it did.

I wish I could give them back their sense of disbelief. I wish I could make their awe last. I wish I could explain to them that there is so much time to be cynical. That they will spend the better part of their lives like that. But that there is such beauty in believing. And they should hold on to that for as long as they can.

When my husband and I travelled around the world last year, we rediscovered that awe. We started believing in magic and miracles and beauty and the universe again. Because the world is full of it. We have just trained our eyes to look past it all.

And sometimes, when I find that awe in myself again, I hope with all my might that it will stick around. Even if it's just in the background.


So I want to start living as if everything is a miracle again. Because if you think about it:

Everything is.

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