i write for inner peace.
One way magic has served me is by making time warp and pass forward, kind of like a good drinking session, but without the hangover. A performance moves my mind into the crowd, and far away from things that sting and upset me. I come out of one 15-minute set feeling different, and far away from where I was before the set had just started. An entire gig does me this favor many fold, and at the day's end, I'm looking around with different, and better, eyes. I had fought with the girl I love this morning, and got irrationally mad. There was no good reason to my madness! But in the heat of that moment, it made sense, and I rode that madness into a turbulent phone conversation and text exchange. She went to sleep in tears (she lives on the other side of the world, so the timezone is different), and I rode into my gig in a funk. I got out of it after the gig. The gig saved me! A few hours of doing magic moved my mind away from what happened, and when I came back to it some hours later, I realized how fooled I was to believe in my madness and act on it. I called her when I got home that night, and gave fully into my apologies and intentions to take better care of her and not get irrationally mad. I got off the phone feeling ten-times more appreciative of what we have. Thank you, magic. You serve me like a samurai once again, and cut down the bad in me that I wish to leave behind.
Time stands still for the performer who stops short of perfection. I love what I do, but that is not who I am. And the idleness that comes from decelerating out of a performance, a set, or an entire gig makes me restless. I can't sleep. I want to stay up all night, studying ways to make my street show better, and the effects stronger, and the delivery more compelling, and the tip lines more selling. But for what? I must keep reminding myself why I practice: for the service of others. There is much to practice in the ways of light and good through this practice, and they're cleverly hidden in the crevices of what I'm studying. I've been so technical lately: so exact. So exactly what is my goal? To become the best? To top myself night in and night out? I want to loose self, and loose my eyes in my heart. I want to radiate something positive into the crowds I conjure before. If I do it well, than my messages can be clearer. Immaculate reception. I don't know why I'm trying to do what I do so well. Maybe, it's just love. You want to do a God job: perfect. I have sharpened every angle of every set and effect I do, and it's never-ending. There will never be mastery. I don't want to loose sight of the whys. That would be un-wise. It's so late, and I'm still thinking about how I can make my sets better. Why? The desire to better the self is what happens when you want to live up to something you love. Or someone you love. It's not pride, or ego building. The sharpest sword cuts down monstrosities along the way. The polished blade reflects the conviction most clearly. I don't know what I'm saying, or thinking. My intentions are good. It's too late. The mystery is a mess that keeps unfolding.
Today, I performed my show at a hospital clinic for the elderly. What a joyful audience! The overwhelming excitement and buzz in the room that built throughout the show was amazing. I can't stop marveling at what magic, and poetry, or any art form in general, can do for the human spirit. It is uplifting to see people uplifted. Simply put, I killed it: I did an excessively good job at this particular show, which is somewhat rare. It felt like I'm a basketball player and scored 50 points in the game to win it, and put smiles on the faces of everyone in the stands. It wasn't a bright-lit arena: it was a clinic! A waiting space of diagnosis and medications. I actually did the show in the waiting room, and turned it into my own magical theater. I don't care where it goes down. I'll perform on the moon if I'm asked to, for the astronauts stuck in their space shuttle laboratories. Magic is like light: it can go anywhere. So I took it as smoothly as I could into the eyes of these old people, and my poems into their ears. I'm exceptionally excited, as this was the first show where I actually bounced between doing straight magic, magic-poetry, and my poems by themselves. The reaction I received from this new approach was startlingly deep. The attention of the room funneled to a single point so clear after each poem, that I could have done the worst magic trick in the world and they still would have reacted. I'm glad I have this "sidekick" artform to help my magic out. It feels like I have Wade and Bron on my team, or Shaq and Kobe. Lol I've been watching them playoffs. It feels good to do a good job, and to see people happy from what I do. And even better knowing the income I'm getting from whatever this is making is going to take me back to the Philippines, where I can see the girl I love again. Life is astonishing. I am overwhelmed with God fortune.
The Move Unseen
A blog for magic.