Photographers, artists, poets: show us ENCHANTMENT.
Was this a magic photo of our local town of
Solothurn in Switzerland with ghostly lights? Not really, it was just me trying
a night photo and not having a steady hand. If I had the tripod with me it
would have been one of those prize winning photos to be seen in every photo
magazine and worth a mention for the nomination of a prize.
WordPress wants to transform me into a mystical being. I am a mystical being and no-one really knows what sudden brilliant ideas I will have.
I can hoover the floors with the flick of a foot on the vacuum cleaner switch. By the way I now have an original Dyson vacuum cleaner. That is a mystical machine if ever there was one. I found how to empty the chamber containing the dirt, but that was more luck than judgement. Why are those instruction booklets so tight on information and drawings. I found a mystical button and pressed it. Lo and behold the machine released the container. That was definitely mystical female intuition. It is one of those machines that announces its work by exceeding the permitted decibel limits of noise, but at least everyone knows I am using it. One small information they omitted from the instructions was to empty the container outside in the wide open spaces. It might otherwise be that you develop a strong dust allergy if doing this in enclosed spaces. Just a matter of learning by doing I suppose.
One of my magical abilities is ironing shirts. Having three men in the family for many years this was necessary. I passed this magical ability onto my men. They still regard me as the Harry Potter of the steam iron.
Is there really something called magic? I remember when I was a child (yes I am mortal) and for Christmas I received the long wanted magic set, containing card tricks, the disappearing whatevers and all that belonged. There was even a sort of plastic wand, long and black with a white tip. I really tried to change my teacher at school into a white rabbit, but she remained as she was, so I decided not to take this magic stuff seriously. Actually reflecting on my first experiences on magic, I realised it was all illusion. My chances of becoming the second Harry Houdini were soon forgotten and did he not die from failed trick when he was punched strongly in the stomach before he had time to prepare himself?
My felines are convinced that the tin opener is a magical instrument producing delightful portions of food when I take it in my hand. They sit waiting before the tin is opened, all three of them.
“Come off it Mrs. Human, we only do that act to make you happy and give you something to write”
“Nera go and play with the feline next door, she might show you some tricks that would win a fight, instead of running away when she appears.”
That was my chief feline Nera. Yesterday she had a meeting with a figure of the third kind, a new feline on the block: big and strong and mapping out her new territory. Unfortunately territorial rights amongst felines are not governed by politeness or invitations, you take what you can and generally fight for it. My three felines are not of the brave kind, moving in on territories and coming home with half an ear or a few handfuls of fur missing. They are more the “run for your life” types. If they do not manage to run they release a blood curdling scream causing Mrs. Human to drop everything what she is doing, imagining her little darlings losing all nine lives at the paws of a revenging gladiator type feline.
Using new skills is a matter of trying them out with the life motto, what do I have to lose. This usage is usually accompanied by a vast choice of various special words in all linguistic variations. They help in succeeding.
WordPress wants to transform me into a mystical being. I am a mystical being and no-one really knows what sudden brilliant ideas I will have.
I can hoover the floors with the flick of a foot on the vacuum cleaner switch. By the way I now have an original Dyson vacuum cleaner. That is a mystical machine if ever there was one. I found how to empty the chamber containing the dirt, but that was more luck than judgement. Why are those instruction booklets so tight on information and drawings. I found a mystical button and pressed it. Lo and behold the machine released the container. That was definitely mystical female intuition. It is one of those machines that announces its work by exceeding the permitted decibel limits of noise, but at least everyone knows I am using it. One small information they omitted from the instructions was to empty the container outside in the wide open spaces. It might otherwise be that you develop a strong dust allergy if doing this in enclosed spaces. Just a matter of learning by doing I suppose.
One of my magical abilities is ironing shirts. Having three men in the family for many years this was necessary. I passed this magical ability onto my men. They still regard me as the Harry Potter of the steam iron.
Is there really something called magic? I remember when I was a child (yes I am mortal) and for Christmas I received the long wanted magic set, containing card tricks, the disappearing whatevers and all that belonged. There was even a sort of plastic wand, long and black with a white tip. I really tried to change my teacher at school into a white rabbit, but she remained as she was, so I decided not to take this magic stuff seriously. Actually reflecting on my first experiences on magic, I realised it was all illusion. My chances of becoming the second Harry Houdini were soon forgotten and did he not die from failed trick when he was punched strongly in the stomach before he had time to prepare himself?
My felines are convinced that the tin opener is a magical instrument producing delightful portions of food when I take it in my hand. They sit waiting before the tin is opened, all three of them.
“Come off it Mrs. Human, we only do that act to make you happy and give you something to write”
“Nera go and play with the feline next door, she might show you some tricks that would win a fight, instead of running away when she appears.”
That was my chief feline Nera. Yesterday she had a meeting with a figure of the third kind, a new feline on the block: big and strong and mapping out her new territory. Unfortunately territorial rights amongst felines are not governed by politeness or invitations, you take what you can and generally fight for it. My three felines are not of the brave kind, moving in on territories and coming home with half an ear or a few handfuls of fur missing. They are more the “run for your life” types. If they do not manage to run they release a blood curdling scream causing Mrs. Human to drop everything what she is doing, imagining her little darlings losing all nine lives at the paws of a revenging gladiator type feline.
Using new skills is a matter of trying them out with the life motto, what do I have to lose. This usage is usually accompanied by a vast choice of various special words in all linguistic variations. They help in succeeding.
I don't believe in magic. I think magic is just a matter of viewpoint (as you have quite rightly pointed out with your example of the tin-opener to the felines). Much of what we take as 'everyday', like mobile phones, computers, televisions, if taken back 500 years would be looked upon as magic or witchcraft.
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