The new Coldplay song got me thinking. We all need magic. But what is magic? Not just a man pulling a rabbit out of a hat – even that doesn’t happen anymore; Nor being cut in half – since we get enough of that in our own lives, metaphorically speaking. Ladies and gentlemen in the audience allow me to tell you that magic is an escape. It’s a chance to leave your body for just a few seconds. You leave all the things that tie you down, your monotonous life, your laptop, your favorite TV shows, and the noise in between. It’s a moment of cathartic release. You escape to something white. Yes, you can indeed fly. There is blankness all around. You stand in the middle of all that quietude and you feel glad. It’s the kind of death you always desired. But it’s not death. It’s magic. And it’s fleeting, this magic is. It’s worth your whole life waiting for those few seconds of pure transcendence. I won’t name the ways to attain this. They are far too great and I am far too young to know them all. But one way I do know is when you see her. You know you’ve found her, when she makes you weak; when in all your life you haven’t had the chance to bend your knees and suddenly you feel humbled at her sight. Let me present my lovely assistant for tonight’s act. You lose all your defenses; all the walls and gates you’ve put up. The poker face is lost. You tremble. You sweat when you meet her; beads of crystals slowly trickle down your face and you’re aware of each and every movement. You’re thirsty, but not for water. You can’t talk yet there is too much to say, and words seem scarce. You’re the smiling assistant at a magic show facing your master, her. But you’re also outside, sitting in the audience, watching yourself as you prepare for the ‘Greatest’ act. You will notice that the hat is empty. You’re happy the moment your eyes gaze upon her. You’re ecstatic when she walks to you, asking you for…well anything. You mumble because for the first time in your life you are aware of your own tongue. You feel it sliding around in your mouth like a serpent on hot, dry sand. Your heart beats and you feel the vibrations. I shall gently tap the hat three times. You’re paralyzed, you tremble, you’re scared, you fumble, you’re awe-struck, and you’re not you anymore. You are neither the assistant nor the audience; you’re not even a person. You’re more. You are what science can’t describe and what literature tries to capture. You are here and you’re not. You are Schrodinger’s cat. You are the rabbit in the hat, and she is your conjurer. And when she pulls you out, Voila! It is then for those brief few seconds that you feel magic. Thank you and do come again.