Moving On

The past holds all of our dearest memories. But beware of forgetting yourself. This post is about finding the courage to stand on your own feet, as the result of your past, instead of looking to it as all that is good and gone.

For many years, perhaps since my birth and until some years ago, I had a very grim outlook on change. Change means an ending of something you’ve been a part of. Change means letting go of something old and heading into an uncertain and scary future. And if you look into it the wrong way, like I was good at, change is melancholy. However small a change, change is death itself. Change means that the world and life gradually parts from you, and leaves you alone.

That detachment doesn’t hurt just superficially, it lashes out to your very soul. It is a pure form of loneliness, and it has a beauty, as most emotions do. In reasonable quanta, it’s an important part of life. It should be accessed sometimes, I think, for the same reason that we need to preserve machinery. But loneliness is a brittle bridge over chasms, and shouldn’t be taken lightly or made a habit out of.

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Magic does so definitely exist in this world. It’s just a matter of definition and perspective.

I remember when magic was a day-to-day business for me. I’m talking about my childhood, of course. Sure, you could say that whatever magic I imagined was just that; imagination. It never existed, I was only fooling myself. But then I’d just shake my head, because that’s not the point. I still know magic.

Because the real magic is the moment itself, when magic and wonder really does seem real. Magic is when you can actually picture a world where heroes always win, where deceases and accidents don’t exist. Magic is when you really feel like there’s something more out there, something wondrous and curious and impossible. And magic is when the real world allows wondrous things of other worlds to happen here, too.

The last kind will happen only if you believe it can. If you don’t, the same might still happen, but you will discard it at coincidence, and your world will forever be boring.

I really look forward to the day I’ll be able to make magic happen for someone else.


This post tells about the need to have a safe home to come home to, the insecurity of not having one, and what you need to make one.

I’m not content right now. I’ve got this vague feeling like something needs fixing, something that’s gone wrong somewhere but that nobody’s noticed. It’s like the world used to be run properly, but then we all started neglecting it to stress over less important matters instead, and now we’ve all forgotten how it was and how it used to be run. I feel I should do something, I feel I should take control and make things work again, show people that the happiness of the past can return not only in our minds.

But things seem so different now, so much more complicated. Complication has tainted my mind, and ignorance has become a habit. I can see it happening and I work against it, but I cannot help but be carried away by the huge current. I knew once that there were refuges on top of the water, many of them. Refuges built on happiness, joy and friendship, built by those who share it, who know it and who can give it. Those refuges still exist, in new forms, for others, but I shy away from them. I do not feel at home in them. I visit sometimes and it inspires me greatly, for a while, but overall I’ve become an outsider.

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A Reminder

Stock photo from

We’re living in a world where information is power, where art is commercial and everything is analyzed based on its usefulness to our mundane purposes. Here, a weary mind remembers the falseness of this and tries to look for more.

What is grass to you? What about your room? Christmas? A bottle of water?

If all your answers are equally logic and explainable, if you were able to define them all, you might want to hear me out.

Sometimes I wonder.. what if the things I treasure — fantasy and its beauty — will some day mean nothing to me? What if I will one day picture a dark, enigmatic castle in front of a magnificent stormy sky full of roaring dragons and fire.. and feel nothing? It could happen, such things do happen to many people. They lose the magic, the touch, for a while at least. Fact is, even the most wonderful image you can ever imagine, is nothing at all without the feeling that comes with it, a feeling that is not part of the image but of your mind. The magic of the image. But what the heck is the magic, and why can’t we keep it?

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