When we stop believing in magic.

There are words in philosophy that describe   different theories  and  if I could remember them  this   article would  sound more  learned  but it is   nearly half past one in the morning and I am not going rooting in the car for  my philosophy   bible.   Actually  it is not a bible ; in fact it is a wonderful little  green covered book that  is  like a  dictionary of sorts and  if you  look up   something   or someone   belonging to the faculty of philosophy  you  will more than likely spend at least an hour reading some  wonderful theory.    Kant or  Aristotle can engage  one so   well that      your   original   lapse of memory is forgotten  in  the  beautiful academic language of  philosophy.  The drawbacks   of  studying    Sartre  or  any other philosopher of   renown in depth can take  huge chunks of  our  tiny lives . Hence the philosophy dictionary  was a great     aid   to one   in those days of  academia.  Far more interesting tonight  is my    sudden  diversion  from the path of magic to  the  road of realism.

Realism is the fact that there are about a thousand wonderful books sitting in a car outside my house  getting colder and damper by the minute. The magic is what is   written in those wonderful books and the  questions they caused me to  ask myself at times , the wonder  and thirst for knowledge  was a palpable real thing in those  days when my books were my friends   through many long nights.    I sat with Descartes   in his humble abode  and tried to  throw off  all that    had been handed down to me , I asked myself the same questions  and  studied those meditations until just like Descartes I realised; I was really there, sitting at  a desk because I was thinking  therefore  I am .  I walked with  those authors  and had  dreams of visiting  St Petersburg  when reading Crime and punishment  , I searched for answers and solutions to problems and could not understand  the  silence of  the world  as   I began to learn   more about  the  human race.The magic was  a certain enlightenment  I suppose that enlightenment became   heavy as  slowly  and sadly I  walked away.

A sudden urge of realism  began to unfold   that urged me to   travel more lightly , in order to  do so  one  should  discard anything  one has not used    for  a few years  and my theory at the time was that these books   were   never going to be  studied in   great depth now  as  all they contained could  easily be  assessed via the internet.   My most awful non magical thought was that  if  I magically disappeared the  family would have  the awful task  of   sorting through them and they would realise what   a  crazy mom they had.  A mom whose   interests spanned such  great depths  but who   could never quite remember who said what  and when.   A mom  who never quite managed to get those  book shelves up  to hold those wonderful masterpieces.

Amongst these wonderful books are a  collection of children’s encyclopaedias  that  some  of my children  recently  flicked through  under a wave of nostalgia as they recognised each  others  little notes to self  on some of the  studied pages. A conversation then  began on how  different    times are now as their children my grand children  googled   all  their questions  without  the trouble of   reaching up into my   invisible  book shelves  and  looking for the correct book that would solve their questions and maybe just  discovering the  magical words written  in the margins by there  parents , aunts and uncles. So   tomorrow is another day as someone once said  and  I have a mission and it is to  house those  wonderful books  and restore some magic to  my life our lives.