Tag: Mondays

Hold On

A Monday reminder.

The challenge of Mondays is that so much that seems possible when a body is freed from certain daily obligations––traffic, work schedules, emails, meetings, bells––suddenly seems to slip away. It’s a tragic feeling, one I routinely brace for every Sunday afternoon into evening.

I am constantly having to remind myself (every Monday, and for the rest of the week) that the other part of the challenge is to find a way to grasp those ephemeral beauties again and hold them close––even while running in worn shoes, unlaced, in the cold rain, on a sore knee with a sense that it will be some time before you can stop again.

To hold and keep holding, this is the challenge. Like it’s your life, as the saying goes. Because, of course, that is exactly what it is. And although it has a way of coming into such sharp focus on Mondays, it’s really the challenge of a lifetime.

Almost Endless

For a Monday morning.

We all fall from our infinities. These landings have a way of knocking the wind from the lungs. After the crash, there’s a stillness before it begins again. Inhale, exhale.

Loquat, cypress, tire swing. Field mouse, damselfly, dark-eyed junco. Brush rabbit, baby, coyote. All of this before you even find your feet again.

What will you do without your delusions of endlessness? The unbound forever vanished, here is a beginning instead.

Magic for Monday

No tricks, no misdirection, no spectators. This is magic.

Mondays are when I need magic. Fortunately, there are books for this, and I have a few. I buy these on the pretense of character research and then use them as I see fit. Today, I’ll be scanning magician Joshua Jay’s Complete Course in the spirit of looking for clues as to how to manage this day. 

First, consider the classic pose of magician, a long-revered symbol of beginnings. Consider one arm to the heavens, the other to earth, a channel from energy to matter. Then consider this: you’re holding a book of secrets. You want to learn the art. Look around the room. Tell me: Where is the elephant now?

No tricks, no misdirection, no spectators. This is magic. Here is direction. These are participants.

Old dogs, new tricks: you can breathe new life into old props.

Now practice. Make a wave with your fingers. Call this a warmup. Repeat. 

Now hold this coin at the base of your fingers. Relax, turn your hand over.

Keep it invisible. Now go about your normal routine. 

Make the Phoenix disappear, then see the vanished match reborn! The hand is quicker, look. 

Make a prediction. Volunteer. A tube of lipstick, a small bill, a shoe. Any object will do, but force the lipstick. Wait. You can’t rush a miracle.

Hands down, where’s the card? Take this bread.

They call conjuring the poetry of magic. 

Shuffle, shuffle, pinch, peel. 

Remember: you are not a magician, but an actor, playing the part.

Inspired by:  Jay, Joshua. Magic: The Complete Course. Workman Publishing, 2008.