My father was a writer. He wrote all of his life, inflicting upon many of us his novels, plays, articles, essays, and self-help books. Some were marvelous; some merely well-intentioned. But of all the things he wrote, his journal is his legacy: by turns wise and bewildering, it neared 1,100 type-written pages when he died in 2010. Although perused many times, this is the first time it will be read - cover to cover, page after page.
Monday, March 9, 2015
Sustaining the Magic
He is back into the cycle of magic, having finally met the person he was destined to meet, the one the other destined people had been preparing him for. Of course, she also feels the magic and if this is like other times they will, in trying to sustain the wonder, undo whatever might have been; and so the despair can return. Hopefully, he can allow this to be other than magic, and that she can too. Maybe then reality, with its real and realizable expectations, will have a chance. The real wonder is the absence of magic, the not needing to sustain who people are in our need. The wonder is in the quiet and in the permitting each other the freedom to be ordinary people making free and ordinary choices.
Labels:
expectations,
fear,
hope,
infatuation,
reality,
wonder
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment