Magic Always Comes with a Price
Well, poop on a scoop.
I don't have many minutes, but my brain was feeling crazy, and I needed to get words out.
I think, sometimes, we don't take magic very seriously. Obviously, you could give it names like physiology, psychology, physics and whatnot, but, at the end of the day, it's magic.
In my recent past, the defining magic I've observed has been hope magic—whether imbuing it or draining it. There are certain essences, certain entities, certain circumstances that invariably drain hope. There's plenty of talk about the right mindsets, good habits, etc., but magic is very real.
It's the same sort of magic that sharks use to smell fear. It's the same sort of magic that brave soldiers use to inspire bravery in others.
Is there deflection magic? Can one deflect the drain? It has to be possible. I think I've experienced it once or twice. I think madness is one of the easier spells that redirects the hope-drain, but it comes with a price of course. I am fond of a quotation from Once Upon a Time. Rumpelstiltskin frequently says, "Magic always comes with a price!" It reminds me of an excerpt from a poem I wrote recently:
Or maybe it is like the rising waves in Perelandra: if you choose to fear, you may fear that the waves may be too great for your strength, you may cower, and you may be whelmed under. However, if you don't even think to fear, you may embrace the swelling crest, you may ride the waves, and you may surmount or be washed—but, either way, you are delighted by the challenge.
Too often, I like to wrap myself up in fear. Instead of trusting God and His wildness that He rolls my way, I fret over the waves, for they are too high, and I fret over the sand, for it is too hot, and I fret over the sun, for it is too bright, and I fret over the storms, for they rage too terribly, and I fret, and I fret, and I fret.
That's no way too live. It is quite exhausting to say the least. It makes quite a bit more sense to embrace what I have and be content with what I don't.
I shall have to meditate on that.
I don't have many minutes, but my brain was feeling crazy, and I needed to get words out.
I think, sometimes, we don't take magic very seriously. Obviously, you could give it names like physiology, psychology, physics and whatnot, but, at the end of the day, it's magic.
In my recent past, the defining magic I've observed has been hope magic—whether imbuing it or draining it. There are certain essences, certain entities, certain circumstances that invariably drain hope. There's plenty of talk about the right mindsets, good habits, etc., but magic is very real.
It's the same sort of magic that sharks use to smell fear. It's the same sort of magic that brave soldiers use to inspire bravery in others.
Is there deflection magic? Can one deflect the drain? It has to be possible. I think I've experienced it once or twice. I think madness is one of the easier spells that redirects the hope-drain, but it comes with a price of course. I am fond of a quotation from Once Upon a Time. Rumpelstiltskin frequently says, "Magic always comes with a price!" It reminds me of an excerpt from a poem I wrote recently:
And so you must chooseIt seems that the dichotomy between freedom and peace is pretty prevalent. You get to choose one or the other, not both. Magic always comes with a price.
Between freedom and peace.
If not, you must lose
From your heart every piece.
Or maybe it is like the rising waves in Perelandra: if you choose to fear, you may fear that the waves may be too great for your strength, you may cower, and you may be whelmed under. However, if you don't even think to fear, you may embrace the swelling crest, you may ride the waves, and you may surmount or be washed—but, either way, you are delighted by the challenge.
Too often, I like to wrap myself up in fear. Instead of trusting God and His wildness that He rolls my way, I fret over the waves, for they are too high, and I fret over the sand, for it is too hot, and I fret over the sun, for it is too bright, and I fret over the storms, for they rage too terribly, and I fret, and I fret, and I fret.
That's no way too live. It is quite exhausting to say the least. It makes quite a bit more sense to embrace what I have and be content with what I don't.
I shall have to meditate on that.
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