magic

I__ a magician with no magic, and that__ no one at all.

There are those amongst us who have erred, deeply and significantly. Who have wounded the world and broken themselves. The worst of them lose themselves in their errors. The best of them crawl back, one foot at a time, and seek to amend their breaches. That is the way of the brave. -Gabriel Keene, Pack Apex, pp. 37

Magic is an ancient practice that has power over superstitious mind.

The moon was reigning over their world, glowing its full splendor to all those willing to look up.

Fantasyland was designed as a home for some of the classic characters [from those films], and as a symbol of the magic, hope and beauty of the human imagination.

9 likes Like Facebook_icon__ead this to yourself. Read it silently.Don't move your lips. Don't make a sound. Listen to yourself. Listen without hearing anything.What a wonderfully weird thing, huh? NOW MAKE THIS PART LOUD! SCREAM IT IN YOUR MIND! DROWN EVERYTHING OUT.Now, hear a whisper. A tiny whisper. Now, read this next line in your best crotchety- old man voice:"Hello there, sonny. Does your town have a post office?"Awesome! Who was that? Whose voice was that? It sure wasn't yours! How do you do that?How?! It must've been magic.

Being the Magician isn't about being powerful when you have things and useless when you don't," Persephone said."The Magician sees what is out there and finds connections. The Magician can make anything magical.

Wicca offered real, not pretended, means for the individual to express the art, beauty, and reality of ritual, including magic, in the here and now. --Paul Turnbull

What this world doesn't have is the three-wishes, go-to-the-ball-and-meet-your-prince, happily-ever-after kind of magic. We have all the mangling and malevolent kinds. Who *invented* this system?

Fire. I see it everywhere.

LIFE IS A MAGIC, GOD IS THE MAGICIAN

Killing another with slow, deliberate intent is a warping of the gifts that magic offers. It warps the mage in a manner he cannot repair. You cannot kill another slowly and not twist something within yourself, Alador. Remember this: magic is not without cost regardless of its wonder and magnificence.

Magic is just energy that wants to be something different

It is only rather recently that science has begun to make peace with its magical roots. Until a few decades ago, it was common for histories of science either to commence decorously with Copernicus's heliocentric theory or to laud the rationalism of Aristotelian antiquity and then to leap across the Middle Ages as an age of ignorance and superstition. One could, with care and diligence, find occasional things to praise in the works of Avicenna, William of Ockham, Albertus Magnus, and Roger Bacon, but these sparse gems had to be thoroughly dusted down and scraped clean of unsightly accretions before being inserted into the corners of a frame fashioned in a much later period.

I want to move my hands, but they__e fused to his rib cage. I feel his lung span, his heartbeat, his very life force wrapped in these flimsy bars of bone. So fragile yet so solid. Like a brick wall with wet mortar. A juxtaposition of hard and soft.He inhales again. __ayme,_ he says my name with a mix of sigh and inquiry.I open my eyes and peer into his flushed face. Roses have bloomed on his ruddy cheeks and he looks as though he__ raced the wind.__m?_ I reply. My mind is full of babble, I__ so high.__ayme,_ he__ insistent, almost pleading. __hat are you?__nstantaneous is the cold alarm that douses the flames still dancing in my heart. I feel the nervousness that whispers through me like a cool breeze in the leaves.__hat do you mean?_ I ask, the disquiet wringing the strength from my voice.__t doesn__ hurt anymore,_ he explains, inhaling deeply.I feel the line of a frown between my brows. Gingerly, I lift the hem of his shirt. And as sure as I am that the world is round and that the sky is, indeed, blue the bruises and welts on his torso have faded to nothingness, the golden tan of his skin is sun-kissed perfection. Panic has me frozen as I stare.__ don__ understand,_ I whisper.He looks down at his exposed abdomen. __ think you healed me.__e says it so simply, but my mind takes his words and scatters them like ashes. I feel like I__ waking from a coma and I have amnesia and everyone speaks Chinese.I can__ speak. If I had the strength to, I wouldn__ have the words. I feel the panic flood into me and fear spiked adrenaline courses through me, I shove him. Hard. Eyes wide with shock, he stumbles back a few steps. A few steps is all I need. Fight or flight instinct taking root, I fight to flee. The space between us gives me enough room to slide out from between him and the car.He shouts my name. It__ too late. I__ running a fast as my lithe legs will carry me. My Converse pound the sidewalk and I hear the roar of his engine. It__ still too late. I grew up here and I__ ten blocks from home. No newbie could track me in my own neighborhood. In my town. Not with my determination to put as much distance as I can between me and the boy who scares the shit out of me. Not when I__e scared the shit out of myself. I run. I run and I don__ stop.

MOTHER TIME: Life goes by so very fast, my dears, and taking the time to reflect, even once a year, slows things down. We zoom past so many seconds, minutes, hours, killing them with the frantic way we live that it's important we take at least this one collective sigh and stop, take stock, and acknowledge our place in time before diving back into the melee. Midnight on New Year's Eve is a unique kind of magic where, just for a moment, the past and the future exist at once in the present. Whether we're aware of it or not, as we countdown together to it, we're sharing the burden of our history and committing to the promise of tomorrow.

Change is inevitable. And in a way, change is a sort of magic. However, not everyone believes in something as frugal as the unexplained.

Any thing or behavior too complex to understand becomes a phenomenon that could be termed spiritual or magical.