Magic is a cliche for all the things that people don’t understand.
“Oh, look that light bulb lit up just like magic when you flicked that switch.”
“You can find out who won the football on your phone! Magic!”
“I want a unicorn that poops magic, mummy. And I want it now!”
Bah, humbug!
Not even what I do is magic. Illusion, deception, sleight of hand, misdirection. The make-believe we fall into when someone ‘seems’ to do the impossible right in front of us. Science and art made to deceive. I even met my fair share of fake swarmies or table-rapping ‘psychics’. The saddest among them are those who actually believe their own stories, who have created the show and bought it for reals. At least the cynical fortune tellers on their 1800 numbers and email chat lines do their deceiving honestly.
Yeah, I’ve looked and seen with my own eyes the fine fishing line, the secret compartments, the intricately worked out routines, done a few myself. But in all that glitz and sparkle there is not one speck of magic.
If I had to give my definition of magic it would be the ability to control the energies around us and use them to do wonders that would be impossible for the mortal human. I guess, by that definition the lighting of the bulb by electricity derived from renewable or nonrenewable means would be magic to a primitive, but doesn’t that prove my point.
Even if we could meet Merlin tomorrow and he did some wonder of his art, couldn’t someone with an open mind, a little help and time work out how he did it? And as soon as it is worked out…the magic is gone, it is just a process that can be learnt and achieved by anyone with the rights skills and resources.
No, there is no magic. No magic for me.
A Strange Life 