There's a Place for the Magical
08/08/08 13:47
"Why?" she asked. Again. For the 437th time that day.
She is the gorgeous and delightful and very "three and a half years old" daughter of my good buddy and I'm helping look after her for four days. No women around. Two dudes and a little girl. My world was challenged.
"Why?" she asked again and again. So many questions in this little person's head. Apparently at this age, a child's mind is "limited" to a very magical way of viewing the world. And as we walked around, I tried my best to explain things to her -- for instance, why The Joker wasn't going to get her at bedtime. I realized what an amazing world she lived in. I got to experience magical things with her whereas before I "already knew that" or "that's nothing" dismissals played themselves over and over in my head.
With her, I got to experience what the Buddhists call "Beginner's Mind". And I realized this is where so much awe and inspiration comes from -- at least for me. I also appreciated her genuine curiousity, something that as I've gotten older I've begun to lose, based on the unconscious belief that I've already figured it out.
"Move along. There's nothing to see here."
I was reminded of my relationship to music and how, after years of trying to make it big in the big leagues I became super jaded. I got to see behind the curtain, and the wizard wasn't all that. I got to make records in the rooms where my favorite records were made. And it got kinda old.
The magic was gone. I forgot how to be a fan. And that's some scary shit for a guy like me who is, well, a huge fan of music.
When I began a meditation practice quite a few years ago (still not enlightened -- must be doing something wrong), I believe I was on a quest to have my awareness "cut through" the illusions. Illusions such as my identity and the roots of suffering. I was on a quest which brought great things but it also cost me my ability to embrace "magic." I sobered up in many ways and lost something else in the process.
I could go into "why" that is, but that's just it. In my endeavor to explain everything I lost my ability to just experience everything. And stop. And wonder. There's something valuable in leaving a bit to chance, mystery or whatever. Perhaps "It" doesn't have to bathe naked in the brutal light of transparency. Not all of "It" anyway.
I've been reading Mating in Captivity, a book about eroticism and relationships. It investigates the notion that relationships and their increasing transparency and intimacy are actually killing attraction between mates. The point? Leave something to be sought after, to be yearned for, to be discovered in yourself as a lover. When you're finishing each other's sentences it may mean that you've quit being curious about one another. You've got them all figured out.
And that's pretty boring.
So I'm reclaiming my love affair with The Mystery -- in all forms. I'm reclaiming my innate ability to be a big fan of music even though I'm aware of the smoke and mirrors. I want to be the musician that is still a fan of music, the magician* who allows himself to be surprised and the lover that has so much left to be discovered. There's a place for magic and mystery** in my life. I don't ever want to lose that curiousity or the lust for something magical.
And I hope that some of those “whys” never get answered for that little girl either.
* Not to be confused with this guy.
** Not to be confused with this guy.
