An Almond Croissant at the Cross-section of Finite and Infinite Time
One answer to the question: what is magic?
I bite into my croissant and the warm almond cream squeezes out the side into the palm of my chilly hand. You can open a bakery with shitty croissants and hope people buy from you because they are lazy and addicted to pastries, or, you can make the best damn croissants in the world and remind people that miracles exist.
Everyone is lining up for miracles because they want some proof that there’s reason to believe.
Magic works as a cross-section of finite and infinite time, space, and character.
Our habit as humans is to get stuck in the finite and forget that our brains are actually always craving reunion with visceral quantum reality from which we hail.
We have a hard time believing in quantum reality even though it is constantly calling to us from the space between our breaths and the space between our words.
Magic works by going against the grain of forgetting and instead of surrendering to remembering.
One’s active participation in the multiverse of layers of one’s own life, dancing in the folds of one’s own inner and outer being, that’s how magic works.
