Last night the gloaming was exceptionally beautiful. It’s one of my favorite moments in the day, especially after a rainstorm. The sun is setting and the world becomes golden and everything glows. The moment is perfect for photography, lights emerge and highlight what has been hidden, greys become silver, greens become verdant, and the impossible seems possible.
Its what I think of when I imagine that magic is possible. Creation takes on a glow and shines.
I grew up with stories of magic that ranged from Tolkien to Ms. Piggle-Wiggle. From the magic-filled dreams of the BFG to the transformative power of the witch in The Beauty and the Beast. Even Santa Claus had his own magical pomegranate seeds that helped him deliver his gifts each year. (Persephone, Much?)
Stories about magic allow us to imagine a new world in the place of the one we inhabit. They allow us to think beyond our normal constraints and imagine a place where all we need is a wand or the power of our will to transform the world.
But the magic in the stories wears out. The carriage returns to a pumpkin at midnight.
The power active in the BFG is really in the courage of the small orphan Sophie rather than in the dreams cast by the giant who catches, blends, and carries them. The stories teach us that our power comes from our ability to imagine a better or different world.
I believe in magic insofar as it is that sign that with the proper application of will and the unification of force, we can change the world.
I’d rather carry a wand than a weapon any day.