The roots stretch out, after being cut over and over again, ever succeeding in reminding the world about how futile it is to resist and perhaps to give in. The forces of the universes govern in such a fashion that every permutation, every combination, those random events which we shrug off and all of those things which put us to one simple question: Do we believe in magic?
I’ve always believed there’s some element that we all over look, no matter how hard we try to see. This element, entity, force, thought, belief, call it whatever you want to; It is hidden in the moment when a single drop of sweat traces the back of your neck as you get nervous, the light in your eyes when you see a loved one and all the goosebumps associated with it. How can we see it? Certainly an experience it is then, yes? Or perhaps the very fabric which this world is made up of, and we, material beings, look under our shiny microscopes and through our highly advanced telescopes, trying to find it. Does it not bring you to a laughter when you realise it just cannot be something physical?
It’s the innocence in children’s eyes, and that girl who you just walked past by. It’s in us, and oh how dormant it stays unless we simply start believing in its existence. Look at her, as she smiles at me, after countless days spent reading her words, trying to find my own existence in them. And how beautifully they all fit, like a physics’ definition; every word having a meaning, an existence, a need for it to be there. It all fits. She’s still smiling, as I continue being that insane nut, hoping again how she’ll summon up all the magical words she always is searching for, and put up a pretty story to this very moment. She’s still smiling at me, mind you. There are forces at work here, magnetic, dark matter floating through this space, working about its own magic and creating the world as it passes by. They tell you the story, and like the perfect handwriting to mesmerise the reader’s experience, her smile fills up the world around me, and that’s it. Everything, right there. The past, human existence, dinosaurs, the bloody milky way; They’re all here, and you’re aware. That fucking smile assures, like that hand on your shoulder, like the air traffic controller’s voice in a distress situation for the flight crew. (That makes me wonder about MH370 somehow, fuck it)
We all have those notions, things we’ve always wanted to do. That inkling feeling of something new to do. We hold that wish tight, and unless we find it, we rarely give up. For these ideas, thoughts define us. They’ve made us what we are. Made me what I am, right now. And yet, falling on the tips of the pine leaves how the rain drops find a perfect place, it all fucking fits! This universe has been moving, doing its own magic. We, walking on the ground, stuck onto it, lost in our useless chores, always doing things and running around, never realise it. What we see, is pictures. In a world fucked up with selfies, still moments, we’ve all lost the sense how everything is always moving. They’re making and creating the world for us while we merely witness the change. And foolishly, like drunken buffoons, think we’re the ones responsible. Of course we are, but through our actions. It in no way should stop us and make us limit our awareness to the mess around, and instead, stop and simply look up at the sky. Lose ourselves in its grandeur and its own magic. It only will come before you, if you are looking for it, that too, with all the belief. No room for doubts and back ups, here. There’s no “But what if we’re wrong?” You have one job. One fucking job. And it is to have a belief system, and to stick to it with no doubts whatsoever. In a place of doubts, fear arises. And once that happens, it plagues and kills.
Why can a simple smile not have the magic about it that it can’t fix up things?
All these thoughts and a billions of lifetimes later, one does eventually realises and just ‘gets’ it. So don’t worry, if not now, maybe a few cycles of life and death later, we all will too. This world, this universe, works on magic. Hold this thought, I said to myself. Hold it dear, nestled tightly upon your chest, clenched between your arms, embraced right next to your heart. Hold this thought. And what do I see? This Universe works for me! I am creating my world as I go on, and simply laid upon this simple thought, everything simply works for me, and I sit back and enjoy as it unfolds upon me. The universe this way, through me, is learning a very tiny aspect of its own creation. It’s learning itself. Like those permutations, I am one. And so are you. Maybe someday this universe, she’ll smile down upon you too. And assure you, that it just all fits.