Thimblerig
The Magician returns for a short visit
Welcome, and a warm first hello to the newcomers!
I’m so happy you’re here.
The last time I wrote around the theme of The Magician, it was November 2023. You can check out the full previous Magician post below:
I went through more than one huge life change in the space between writing the above post and today.
So what’s the lesson?
I think it’s that navigating upheaval successfully does not immunize me from experiencing more upheaval down the road. Life doesn’t seem to really be about that. It seems to be more about building a life and mind that stay limber when the tectonic plates shift.
Contents:
Blister
Solid Walls
Wait
Align Your Bones
I Just Thought I Would Offer
Bodies Aware
Small Scoop
Background music: “Burlap Ballgown: Part One” by The Lizzy Co Show
Blister Here’s why the arts matter in one story: I fell, an awful kitchen accident That left me covered in burns, so gory, Despite cold shower and Neosporin. The pain was bad enough, but then for me A second challenge rears its ugly head: The added layers of PTSD. Remembering the times I wished for death. It all resurfaces when hurt visits, But stand-up comedy has always been The thing that makes me want to still exist, The light in the dark, the steadying friend. Sometimes, we need distraction from our lives. Sometimes, we need help sharpening our knives.
Solid Walls
Pain stands in solid walls at first, it seems:
Impenetrable, no lands out beyond.
There exist wishful cracks within, you’ll see,
If you would slip your noticing-eyes on.
Watch closely, observe the edges emerge,
The borderlands where hurt turns back around,
And returns to the cradle of its birth,
Content, its belly watermelon-round.
What fierce guardian, pain to tenderness:
It stands before the vulnerable skin,
With strong hands, ready to give out its tests
To forces that would tear the flesh from limb.
Pain parents us the only way it knows.
It does its best to tell us where to go. 
Wait
The pause between is where the cell divides;
The waiting room is where it all occurs.
Each thing we wish for comes in its own time,
If we would set the table for dessert.
Atomic particles cycle like us:
They sail, so distant, then come back around,
Returning to the home that they once loved,
Then swept away, again, by some new sound.
The waiting is disorienting, true,
But that happens when we’re left in the dark,
Kept unaware of what we need to do,
Which is: sit still, and listen to our hearts.
If we can bear the quiet for a beat,
We’ll find our needs become easy to meet.
Align Your Bones
Your limit is the thing you fear to see:
A thought that turns you on your dusty heel,
Something you want so badly just to be
Imaginary. “God, please, don’t be real.”
But what if the limit did not exist,
And you could walk in any direction,
Move all around in space, unimpeded,
And marvel at the good works that you’ve done?
Let other chemistry align your bones
Than poison from the well of growing-up;
The cure feels foreign, it’s not what you know,
But you should absolutely drain the cup.
What if you crumpled up the limit, tight,
Doused it in gasoline, set it on fire?
I Just Thought I Would Offer “Babe, I think you forgot to shave your legs,” She said, a thirteen-year-old just like me. Shame, at that age, makes people wish for death; We stay safe by policing girl-bodies: After all, who would let their best girl-bro Go out into the world looking ugly? Why let her vulnerability grow Roughened against burrs of society? Better to take care of it for your friend, Show her what all the world will criticize So she can bring it up to perfection And never feel the piercing arrows bite. “I have a razor in my gym locker; No pressure, I just thought I would offer.”
Bodies Aware
The purpose of the steering wheel evolves.
There are some seasons when it’s meant to spin
Around a fixed point; know a problem, solved,
Becomes the place where you begin again.
Hold tightly to the wheel, if you so choose,
As long as you remember that it’s made
To be something that responds, that will move,
Not steady anchor, not such heavy weight.
The thickened smell of ozone floods the air:
This scented sky belongs to stronger souls,
Those spirits living in bodies aware.
Faint hearts will retreat to underground holes.
Steer whichever direction you would choose;
Not caring is the only way to lose. 
Small Scoop Without knowing. I saved somebody’s life. I saw a girl get hurt and scooped her up. I gave her books and one huge, sharpened knife, Agreed with her that her family sucks. I told her not to listen to critics Unless she wants a life like critics lead. I shooed away the folks who would insist That her body was only made to breed. We talked about how love should not frighten With threats of absence, nor hands that control. No one had ever shared the truth with her About how hurt we get by gender roles. The girl’s gonna be fine, I saw to that. She’s out gathering feathers for her cap.
