i write for inner peace.
This is an interesting corner of summer- a wavy, muggy era of mosquitos and guarding your leg fats from their hungry noses. We've been taking you to a large amount of uncharted beaches, and you love it- you're new move is this pseudo-swimming flipper thrash. We'd hold you in the water and your legs would automatically float upward, assuming the position of a beached whale or falling sky-diver. You'd then thrash salt water into your face without flinching or crying. This is your new move! I am amazed.
You're set to be Totoro for Halloween- the giant mythological forest hippo that can fly. He is from a movie mama goose and I are fans of- you must watch it. I was graced with multiple gigs on Halloween, so I get to parade you around in a Totoro suit that day as a perk. We can't wait.
This is a good pocket of life to be reclining into, the way you recline without a care in the world in your carrier. Enjoy the ride, big dino. We love you.
I’ve given this some thought: you are my audience, and you are my magic- truly the chubby embodiment of the sword style “Two Heavens As One”. If I am to leave something behind, some meaningful marking like the Tibetian Monks scribbling words into the sand only to let them be blown away to the heavens, let that be wordy snapshots of life before you can speak.
Your eyes do a lot of talking. You always look so flabbergasted, so astonished- the most astonished spectator I’ve ever seen. I sometimes don’t know what else to say to you outside of mindless babble-singing about your cheek fat, so I've been watching instead in silent astonishment of my own while you show me the magic of your new moves: beluga barrel rolling, eating everything in sight, baring your toothless smile, squeeking at the taste of avocado. Every moment you make for us is the magic. You amaze strangers just by existing. I’d be a fool for not noticing the magic performed before me.
You’re already six months in, and the greatest deception would be to be misdirected by any other pursuit and turn back to see these rare years have vanished or happened too fast. I want to leave magic behind for you as you are giving your mom and I daily. So for now in this post-gig era, you are my audience - the only spectator that matters as you watch us more than you speak. I promise we’ll watch you back with as sharp a twofold gaze of perception and sight as Musashi would approve of, as you begin to show the world what you can do.
The Move Unseen
A blog for magic.