Scope Response #5

I have not been keeping up with the blog thing - but I think this Horoscope could spark some interesting reflection.

magic (ma' jik), n. 1. A mysterious event or process that seemingly refutes the known laws of science. 2. A willed transformation of one's own state of mind. 3. A surprising triumph that exceeds all expectations. 4. Something that works, though no one understands why. 5. The impossible becoming possible. 6. "Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic." (Arthur C. Clarke.) 7. A quality predominant in the lives of Pisceans during the period July 1 through July 20, 2009.

Magic. 8. Something extraordinary in an ordinary world, which if done enough times will become ordinary and requires belief and faith to work. 9. A belief system which bridges the gap between religion and atheism. 10. Every little thing she does is magic. 11. A collectible card game in which opponents become wizards in a duel using a deck of illustrated cards which depict spells, enchantments, and creatures which are employed strategically to destroy the other player.

Do you believe in magic? I do. I did. I used to. Sometimes I still do. I used to believe in magic as a fun, imaginary concept which was depicted in movies and cartoons in various ways but was considered by adults as silly nonsense. I'm not talking about stage magic which is all about showmanship, slight of hand, a practiced routine with optical illusions, rigged props, and stylish timing. I'm talking about the stuff that turned a pumkin into Cinderella's carriage, the stuff that made Peter Pan fly, the stuff that turned Prince Adam into He-Man, the stuff that gave Luke the ability to block lasers with his lightsabers, jump really high and levatate objects with his mind. All these things happened magically with little explanation except "it's magic"(or the Force).

For most of my life, I was raised in the Methodist church and taught to believe in a man who could walk on water, heal sick people by touching them and who has two traditionally insane holidays which have little to do with but somehow celebrate/honor/surround his birth, death and resurrection. This was and still is a good foundation for teaching a young man right and wrong, how to treat others as you would be treated, and that death is really not that scary because if you're good and go to church you'll go to heaven and live forever with God, Jesus, Moses, Abraham Lincoln, and all your dead relatives. (Just don't ask why or how or any really deep questions because no one really knows the answer.)

When I went off to college at the University of the Arts, I had roommates who were destructive, obnoxious, and crude. One in particular was a studier of philosophy and an atheist who found every opportunity to argue against the existence of God. He challenged by beliefs which I feel I defended to the best of my ability but it was the first time I really began to question what I really believed. The more I interacted with my roommates who did not seem to follow any moral code or artists and other people who just had different ideas about God, life, and what it all means them more I found myself questioning my beliefs and adopting other blief systems as my own in order to figure them out for myself. As the rift in different ideology and behavior patterns grew, I found myself more and more on the other side of the second floor. For those of you who are not familiar with the Furness Dorms they were two parallel buildings connected by a great hall and courtyard. A walkway connected the two wings. The building itself was once an insane asylum(and probably still is).

I was thrown into a world of ghosts, psychic abilities, wishes, magic, Oujia boards, tarot cards and stories about angels, fantasy creatures, friendship, love, art, music, and drama(the interpersonal kind not the theatrical kind, then again "all the world's a stage" as Bill Shakespeare would say).

I'm sorry. This isn't flowing the way I thought it would. As I write this I feel like something sacred was lost. I feel like as I grow older my belief and fascination with magic is dying. The more I plug into this electronic world either the internet or in video games or just struggling in "the real world"- I lose interest in the things of magic. Once in a while, I'll see a penny and pick it up, make a wish and toss it in a fountain. Once in a while, I'll have a dream, a very vivid dream, forget about it and then all of a suddend find myself walking right into it or watching it unfold before me like a movie(sometimes it IS a movie). Once in a while I break out the Lord of the Rings tarot cards that some magical girl in a chatroom ordered and sent me free of charge just because, or gaze up at the stars and the moon, or look for patterns or signs in clouds, sticks, dots, numbers, or words, but then I shake it off, move on, get called away by some addiction or some other thing and build up the walls that once had been broken through, made transparent or passed through like water or air or fire. These magic moments are getting rarer and rarer. Even those who introduced me to the world of magic will seldom mention those days, those nights that seemed to stretch forever. When we woke up at midnight, roamed the Philly streets, listened to St. George tell us what kind of D and D character we'd be, teach us how to "cloak" or that somehow because we are artists we could see things in a way that "normal people" can't. That the whole purpose in life is to break through the illusions and prepare for some mystical war that looms on the horizon.

What did it all mean? I used to go back to that time in my mind, read my old journals, yearn for that feeling- that feeling- I have no words for it. I lost it a long time ago. Magic comes close to the word I am searching for. But I think I left it on a cold, dark beach somewhere between Santa Monica and Malibu.

That feeling has taken the form of what I call the Shadow. An archetypal version of me who does whatever he feels is right in that moment and fuck everyone else, forget the world, leave it all behind, you have nothing to lose except yourself. On New Years Eve, I left my Shadow on Second Street and the Boardwalk in Ocean City, MD, where the Jesus sand scupltures usually are during tourist season but were somehow refreshingly absent as if the clean flat sand were enough of testament to God's power than the crude, egoic projections of religious folk art.

If magic exists, if magic really works if Rob is correct and this period between July 1 and July 20 is a magical time for Pisces(though I consider October to be more magical), I will try an experiment, and we'll see what happens. I'm going to compose a magic spell and cast it with the posting of this blog entry. They say be careful what you wish for and I will make this wish, this spell as consciously and thoughtfully as possible.


I have nothing to wish on. No pennies, no stars, no beaded necklace. However, I wish to make a wish all the same.
I have a simple wish. Though simple does not always mean easy, silly, or pointless. I wish upon my magic name.

Concord, Beorc, Sonny Leathersoul, Who I Am.

I wish to have a magical night, to turn on that spiritual light
Break through the wall, wander that hall,
open wide the Door, blow the roof off like never before
to see again the First of Three and to talk to her like we did long ago,
And see once again the One who came to me three July's ago.

This is my wish, this is my spell, as I am a fish, and a wizard as well.