wasn’t a spell, except in her own head, but if you couldn’t make spells work in
your own head you couldn’t make them work at all. ~ Terry Pratchett
m is for magic—
a marvelously wild mine
photo by H Heyerlein - on Unsplash
- my rather ugly hospital gown and I were waiting to get an MRI biopsy, when another patient said to me, “I’m praying too, but I can’t close my eyes. When I close them, all I see is cancer.” I opened my eyes (which to prove none of us can escape the claws of cliché, I hadn’t realized I had closed) and said to the lady, “I wasn’t praying. I was chanting some of the good wishes shared by friends who know I’m here. It’s my favorite kind of magic.” The lady looked at me as if I had gone insane and, I kid you not, took a step away from me—mind you, we were already separated by about 6 feet or so and a glass partition. I closed my eyes again, and continued chanting some of the thoughts offered by friends: “Sending all my good vibes and hopes for benign results” and “Prayers, blessings, light and love vibes are traveling the winds to keep you safe and whole” and “Whatever happens u will right above it” and “…may your bras never need to be altered and boob be strong x 13” … Behind the thoughts of my friends’ thoughts, I was also wondering how anyone could believe in the power of prayer and not feel the strong magic of positive thought. Weird, isn’t it?
for Poets and Storytellers United (Weekly Scribblings #49: A B C D E F G…).