One frosty, gloomy January, a kid who had lost his mother roamed the woods with a heavy heart. He happened on an old well. He bent over the edge, and threw a pebble into the dark pit. The well whispered:
“Say my life is good, and it will work magic!”
“My life is good,” the kid called.
A shudder rose from the pit, and the weight on his chest was gone. The sun shone through the clouds, and a swarm of butterflies flew gracefully past.
“My life is good,” he called out in the pit whenever he needed the magic.
Years later, his beloved fell ill. He was frantic with worries, work duties, and household chores.
I need the magic, but I’m all tied up; no way can I go roaming the woods at this time. I’ll say the words right here, he told himself.
“My life is good!” he called out, standing in the kitchen.
He waited with prickling impatience. There was no change of light. No butterflies came flying past. His heart was just as heavy as before.
“My life is good,” he tried once more the next day, but nothing ever happened.
The magic never worked again.
He no longer tries the magic. The words couldn’t save his sweetheart. It was a childhood fairy tale. For grownups, there’s responsibility, no magic.
One day, an old man, he happens on the well again. A kid is calling out into the pit:
“I have everything I need!”
The kid comes running his way.
“Don’t believe this rubbish! Words can never change your world,” he grasps the kid’s elbow.
“But the shudder can,” the kid replies. “I say the words to raise the shudder, and then there is a change in the daylight, and colour comes back to the world.”
I’ve come to think a lot recently about rituals gone hollow, and the disappointment we feel when we see the magic is gone. We sink in denial and claim the magic was never there, and can never be.
A mantra, an affirmation, an inspirational slogan – they never work on the verbal level alone. Without the shudder underneath, they’re nothing but empty words. No wonder My life is good, There’s endless abundance, I can be happy, The universe is good and all that stuff doesn’t do any magic, if we stick to the formulaic words instead of diving down the pit. The mantra is there but to raise the shudder.
It’s the shudder we should be seeking out for comfort, replenishment, and inspiration.
Very thought-provoking. The most compelling magic I once believed in was the tooth fairy, and the day I discovered that the magical tooth fairy was a fantasy was so disappointing to me. I think that we need to get to the point that we can, "My life is good," and not need the magic to believe it.
A lovely tale, thank you.
I don't ever say that the magic was never there, but at times it is more difficult to summon. In those times, I remember and celebrate - and maybe that's a sort of magic, too.