Magic.


I had been told magic was real, by my mother. At 7 years old I watched David Copperfield’s video, it was confirmed.

He made the statue of liberty disappear, he could guess what you were thinking, he FLEW. FLEW! This man was MAGIC.

Or so I thought. When an acquaintance explained to me it was all an act, I refused to believe her. I had seen with my own eyes his magic ability. “He’s an illusionist.” She sneered, “It’s all pretend”.

After demanding my mother tell me the truth, the news was broken to me, gently. Yes, David Copperfield was indeed not magic. It was all fake.

I’d like to say a little piece of me died that day, but that sounds incredibly dramatic and far too pathetic so I shall just say I was not pleased.

I was incredibly lucky to grow up with a Mother who made me believe in Magic and Fairies and with a Father who taught me that it was all a crock of shit. It’s a great mixture. One part fairy dust, One part cynic.

It’s one of the sad parts of growing up, there is less and less Magic in the world.

Instead Magic starts to resemble something else.

I admit, I lead a charmed life. My struggles have been 1st world, 1% struggles. There is often a lot of magic in my life. Happenstance, the Universe, Luck, whatever you want to call it…they are often on my side.

My willingness to believe in Magic was never really suspended. I want to believe these wonderful exciting things exist, and so I do. Despite all other signs pointing to no.

But when it comes to religion, I have never been able to suspend my disbelief.

When religious friends would proselytize to me, the tables were turned and I would be the one breaking the news to them. It’s not real. It’s all just an illusion.

Except with my illusion…or should I say delusion?... no one is hurt, no one is reprimanded, and no one uses it as an excuse for hate.

It is all just sparkles and wishes, no loaves and fishes.

Say you believe in magic and be scoffed at. Say you believe in God and suddenly there is an unwritten rule that it shouldn’t be mocked.

Please don’t get me wrong, I am fully supportive of respecting others beliefs. However it’s always a little one sided. The believers get the respect and the non-believers…well we get to keep our opinions to ourselves, lest we offend someone.

What about my non-believing belief’s? Why must I be the one to bow to others? It is almost as if me not believing in God somehow cancels out their belief.

They must convince me in the error of my ways in order to cement their own.

As a younger person I would be incredibly vocal when the proselytizing started. I would make all the arguments against. Each would be met with even more religious text shoved down my throat as undeniable proof.

As a last resolve I’d usually bring up the dinosaurs and know that a quick exit was in my near future.

The older I get the less I want to discuss with people. You believe in God? Great, I don’t care. You’re voting for who? (Deep breath) I don’t care. You think that Women shouldn’t be allowed to make their own reproductive choices…. (through gritted teeth)…I. Don’t. Care.

Have your religion, have your beliefs, worship at the alter of Trump.

Just please, don’t talk to me about it.

In a world filled with so many wonders, so many incredibly, awe inspiring, jaw dropping, heart stopping wonders….the last thing I want to talk about is Religion.

Magic however? Well…that’s a different story.

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