Here I am on a Sunday in Nova Scotia beginning to write a
blog post on magic and the belief in it as part of a recovery/recuperation
process for serious diseases.
Yesterday was a good summer Saturday for Halifax, sunny
skies, occasional cloud, high of almost 30, and only a light breeze off the
cool ocean, a good day for a swim, so we headed for Chocolate Lake. All three of our children were there, along
with our three granddaughters (aged 4 to 7) and two daughters-in-law. All this was magical enough for me as I came
down the steep roadway on Lorraine’s arm to the beach area and set up my
folding chair in a bit of shade. I felt
like an old crock (I was an old crock!) among all of the beach-loungers and the
splashers and swimmers, but I was at the beach in my suit, possibly going to
have my first swim of this season.
I made it, this skinny old guy being helped into the water
by his son and daughter and even got in before she did and got to splash her as she continued to
hesitate. What I didn’t expect, however,
was how hard it was to swim. For one
thing, my flotation was gone, and for another my skinny arms couldn’t move me
fast, but swim I did for a couple of metres.
Next time we go, Lorraine said, we’ll bring a pfd. Great, I thought, that’s how I learned to
swim about 60 years ago (only they were called lifejackets then).
So where’s that belief in magic? All I’ve written so far, I think, concerns
mainly physics and physiology.
Actually I didn’t particularly believe in magic myself until
yesterday afternoon after the swim when we went to my mother’s grave at St.
Phillip’s in Purcell’s Cove (she died at 90 last August 27). This was the girls’ first visit to the grave and
they brought special rocks, including one from California, and sea glass they
had collected in Purcell’s Cove to place on the stone. Then they gathered flowers to arrange as
well.
When it was all arranged and photographed, I asked if anyone
there had ever found a four-leaf clover, and E., the 5-year old said, You mean
like this? and picked one from the grass right next to the grave.
It was perfect. Several of the adults said they’d never seen
one before. Now that was magic! It was a wholly magic time.
And then tonight, just as we drove down into Purcell’s Cove,
an osprey hit the water right next to the car and lifted off with a fish. If that’s not magic, I don’t know what is.
So #3 on the list of recuperative strategies (they are in
random order) is a belief in magic. I’m
a believer!
