I believe in imagication. No, don’t bother looking it up. You won’t find it in any dictionary. It’s a word I created, conjured out of the mist one morning as I pondered all that I believed in. It represents an idea greater to me than life itself, for without it, life wouldn’t have much of a right to be called life at all. It is the innocent, simple, yet beautiful power with which we overflow as children, but discard and forget as adults, leaving our souls more dry and withered than our bodies will ever become.
This power is the magic of the imagination. Imagication. Two seemingly separate entities, magic and imagination, bundled tightly together in a precious package. I’m not talking about creativity, originality, or ingenuity. I’m talking about the spirit of wonder, the ability to still see the world as fresh and alive. In short, I believe in believing in the unbelievable. And as such, I believe in doing the unbelievable, or at least the unconventional, by embracing my inner child with all my might and shedding, even if only for a moment, the bitter skin of reality.
Thus, I believe in enchanted forests, the vast and thriving woodlands of our dreams inhabited by all of our favorite storybook and nursery rhyme characters. And that the gateway to this magical land lies just outside within our own backyards, and that every opportunity should be taken to explore this world, lest we forget it exists.
I believe in finding a good stick, one with clean, smooth bark and just the right weight, and proceeding to flail it about like a sword in wide arcs that would surely miss whatever I might have been aiming at and yelling “On Guard!” to nothing in particular, except maybe a tree, or my dog who returns my challenge to duel with a quizzical tilt of its head, as if to say, “You must be joking.”
Or if the stick is too long for a sword, then using it as a staff, substituting brawn with brains, and a suit of armor with flowing robes and a pointy hat.
I believe in being afraid of the dark, letting every creak and groan of the house become a footstep of impending doom, and realizing that certain shadows in my room don’t resemble any of the furniture––not even remotely––and swearing to myself that I didn’t just see one of them move.
I believe in kindly nodding my head at every whirlwind of leaves and going out of my way to walk around it, giving my fairy friend plenty of room to dance and play.
Yes, I believe that fairies and leprechauns, unicorns and goblins, dragons and hobbits, are all quite real. Not because they are, but because I choose them to be. Because the power and beauty and magic of the human imagination should never be ignored and should never be forgotten. And though they are invisible, these friends and enemies of mine, their presence and influence upon me is still quite far from imaginary.
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