The following story is true, but the names have been changed to protect the muggles.
I happen to be out and about my daily business getting ready for a show I was going to do that evening. I had to stop by the local magic store to pick up some supplies like loops, a couple decks of cards, a fire wallet, etc and I had hoped to get a small audience while there to practice some newly forming material on. Because I had planned to leave from the magic store and go to the venue for tech and rehearsals I was already in full makeup, and partial dress. (If you have not had the opportunity yet to see me perform my character, suggestive of my name, is rather Romantic Gothic in nature.) Not that I wouldn't dress that way without reason or show (because I do!) but as it happened today there was reasons to my madness.
On my way into the magic shop I stopped to fill up my gas tank, and while I was inside getting a drink and paying for my gas a small child no older than seven... maybe eight wouldn't stop staring at me. From out of the mouths of babes came the most innocent question one could ever hope to hear, much to the chagrin of his mother no doubt: "Mommy, why is that man dressed weird and wearing make up?"
His mother looked absolutely embarrassed and she shushed the child immediately. Although I couldn't quite make out what she was saying, as it was under breath, I was certain it had something to do with not engaging me socially. Could be because I'm a stranger, it could also be because I'm strangely dressed. She looked to be a young 30's, and well dressed. I just smiled at them both, got down on one knee and asked the child directly if he knew what it was I dressed up like? The child of course didn't know so I told him that my appearance style is called Romantic Gothic, and the makeup was because I was a wizard. The boy's eyes grew wide with wonder. I told him that I used my imagination to make people happy, and if I could just simply want something bad enough, I could get it. I happened to have a couple left over paper napkins in my vest pocket that I used to make paper roses out of during strolling shows so I pulled one out to illustrate my point. I asked the boy what it was I held in my hands, and gave him some positive reinforcement when he correctly responded. I folded it into a rose, working the loop around my wrist into the stem, and then asked him what he saw before him now. He replied a flower! I smiled and corrected him.
"A magical flower" I said.
I then drew my hands apart using the loop to cause it to float for just a second, before catching it, snapping the loop, and handing him the rose to keep. Figuring I had wasted enough of everyone's time I wrapped up the experience with a quick motivational message. I told the boy that he too could do anything he wanted if he just believed in himself and used his imagination, but he couldn't get a good imagination by playing video games or by watching TV. He had to read books, stay in school, and go outside and play. Both the boy and the mother seemed happy with the experience. As I stood up to walk away the mother caught my arm. Something was different in her eyes. Or perhaps it was her body language that had changed. She wasn't closed off to me anymore. Wasn't warding, or protective. Something replaced that rigidness I saw moments earlier with a softer more appreciative demeanor. She only said "Thank you", but she didn't need to say anymore. We had established a connection with each other that communicated more than what simple words could do.
So what's the moral of this story? It's a simple one we learn in grammar school, but amazingly it's a lesson that we easily forget. Don't Judge A Book By Its Cover. It's amazing how fast peoples walls come down when we just engage someone in conversation. Appearances mean nothing, it's whats on the inside that counts. I believe we all have a little magic on the inside of each of us, and it's a crime that there are those who deny us the ability to share it with them just because of who they THINK we are.
I happen to be out and about my daily business getting ready for a show I was going to do that evening. I had to stop by the local magic store to pick up some supplies like loops, a couple decks of cards, a fire wallet, etc and I had hoped to get a small audience while there to practice some newly forming material on. Because I had planned to leave from the magic store and go to the venue for tech and rehearsals I was already in full makeup, and partial dress. (If you have not had the opportunity yet to see me perform my character, suggestive of my name, is rather Romantic Gothic in nature.) Not that I wouldn't dress that way without reason or show (because I do!) but as it happened today there was reasons to my madness.
On my way into the magic shop I stopped to fill up my gas tank, and while I was inside getting a drink and paying for my gas a small child no older than seven... maybe eight wouldn't stop staring at me. From out of the mouths of babes came the most innocent question one could ever hope to hear, much to the chagrin of his mother no doubt: "Mommy, why is that man dressed weird and wearing make up?"
His mother looked absolutely embarrassed and she shushed the child immediately. Although I couldn't quite make out what she was saying, as it was under breath, I was certain it had something to do with not engaging me socially. Could be because I'm a stranger, it could also be because I'm strangely dressed. She looked to be a young 30's, and well dressed. I just smiled at them both, got down on one knee and asked the child directly if he knew what it was I dressed up like? The child of course didn't know so I told him that my appearance style is called Romantic Gothic, and the makeup was because I was a wizard. The boy's eyes grew wide with wonder. I told him that I used my imagination to make people happy, and if I could just simply want something bad enough, I could get it. I happened to have a couple left over paper napkins in my vest pocket that I used to make paper roses out of during strolling shows so I pulled one out to illustrate my point. I asked the boy what it was I held in my hands, and gave him some positive reinforcement when he correctly responded. I folded it into a rose, working the loop around my wrist into the stem, and then asked him what he saw before him now. He replied a flower! I smiled and corrected him.
"A magical flower" I said.
I then drew my hands apart using the loop to cause it to float for just a second, before catching it, snapping the loop, and handing him the rose to keep. Figuring I had wasted enough of everyone's time I wrapped up the experience with a quick motivational message. I told the boy that he too could do anything he wanted if he just believed in himself and used his imagination, but he couldn't get a good imagination by playing video games or by watching TV. He had to read books, stay in school, and go outside and play. Both the boy and the mother seemed happy with the experience. As I stood up to walk away the mother caught my arm. Something was different in her eyes. Or perhaps it was her body language that had changed. She wasn't closed off to me anymore. Wasn't warding, or protective. Something replaced that rigidness I saw moments earlier with a softer more appreciative demeanor. She only said "Thank you", but she didn't need to say anymore. We had established a connection with each other that communicated more than what simple words could do.
So what's the moral of this story? It's a simple one we learn in grammar school, but amazingly it's a lesson that we easily forget. Don't Judge A Book By Its Cover. It's amazing how fast peoples walls come down when we just engage someone in conversation. Appearances mean nothing, it's whats on the inside that counts. I believe we all have a little magic on the inside of each of us, and it's a crime that there are those who deny us the ability to share it with them just because of who they THINK we are.
