Sunday, March 29, 2009


The dictionary provides a meaning for the word magic and it runs thus: the art of making things happen by secret charms and sayings. The thesaurus says that it is synonymous to the words the supernatural, the unexplained, enchantment and wonderful.

As a child, I always believed that magic is when a coin disappears when someone breathes in it while it is kept in a closed fist. I even thought that magic differs from a person to another. For instance, he has the power to make things disappear and get it from the lobe of your ear and another has the power to guess the card you chose. It differs just like our fingerprints and someday, I’ll discover my unique magic. As a child, I always find myself amused to children’s party with hotdogs and marshmallows on sticks and with clowns who perform magic in the middle part of the celebration. I think everyone else has been fascinated at how they keep everything secret and they won’t reveal it no matter how hard you pull their pants. While I was busy admiring magic and the thing I thought as skill, an older playmate told me that it was just an illusion, that I was just being fooled. I cannot accept that reality at that time and so I did not play with her anymore after that and refused to lend her my imported Barbie dolls.

After that, I was able to watch a movie entitled “Breaking the Magician’s Code”. The movie has three volumes, each equipped with professional magic and magicians, the one with floating woman, teleporting magician, disappearing elephant and other breath-taking presentations. Those involved risking life by drowning or saw or bombs. After each amazing show, the masked magician will show the viewers how the trick was done. My father who was watching with me got more amazed after knowing the secrets but I was not. I felt like I was really fooled and the fact that magic doesn’t exist even though they first told me that it does is something a child won’t accept easily. At that point, I called magicians as bluffers and magic as lies. As I grow up, the thought about magic makes me vomit. It’s just that it’s not anymore fascinating because there is no point in believing it since you know that there is a trick behind it and it’s just a matter of their hand speed and your blinking.

Now that I am almost eighteen, magic still lingers in me though it is not in its original form. My concept of magic lately is the crazy little thing they call as love. It is unexplained and wonderful, something enchanted and amazing and unlike the magic known by many, love is not a bluff and people who encounter this doesn’t make you fall on a trick or into illusions. Love is every little conversation you share with him while his eyes sparkle and the touch of his hand teleports you into somewhere else where everything is right and bright. Love is this bittersweet longing while kilometers separate you and the fear because there is just only one of him in the world. Love is reading his messages all over again, untiringly, and still getting that very electrifying feeling. Magic is when you don’t know why you are so addicted and attached to the person but you find myriads of reason to answer when they ask you. Magic is the art of making impossible things happen and making dreams come true. It is visualizing the two of you at seventy-five and finding yourself crying because of intense satisfaction which you are having. It is listening to every song and realizing that those good ones all apply to him and only to him. Magic and love are inseparable because when you love someone, instantly, magic envelops the two of you and when you feel a real magic, it’ love and it can only be love.

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