Friday, 6 June 2014
Real life wizards
How many people did you come across today? How many people did you speak to? How many people crossed your mind, even if just for a cursory moment?
People. Our lives revolve around them; our friends, our family, the people we discuss the solar system and periods with in the office, the strangers we pass and smile at in the street, the crazy, drunk folk who become our 'best friends evaaaaaaaahhh' when they lend us a hairbrush in grubby toilets at 2am, the people who make our lives complete, the people we aspire to be like, the people we're engineered to love and the people we grow to love throughout the course of our existence. Yup, people are pretty bloody important, and for the most of us, will have become an integral part of our human experience.
I like people, I think we've established that. There are however, a certain breed of people who I am particularly fond of, and it is these beautiful, bizarre creatures who I would like to celebrate today, everyday in fact. Would you like to celebrate them too? You would?! Let's do it. Let's take our knickers off and do a cartwheel and feel our aliveness and privilege swishing around our chubby thighs. Let's revel in the perpetual brilliance of the real life wizards.
Harry Potter and Ron Weasley aren't real, I feel you. I'm never going to get my Hogwarts letter. (Can we just take a moment whilst I weep about that? Moment. I'm taking it.) But despite the obvious reality shift between Hogwarts, and erm, not Hogwarts, I'm certain that there are wizards within this world, walking, fleshy, animated wizards; human beings, just like us, and yet so remarkably unlike us all at once. I'm positive that as you read this your visual consciousness will fill your assiduous mind with the faces of your very own real life wizards. If I'm wrong, you can borrow my unicorn.
These people aren't necessarily people that we're in love with or having ravenous intercourse with. Whilst of course they could be those people, real life wizardry can extend to those we're not romantically involved with at all. Real life wizards are just people, people who to others might be a smiling stranger on the street, people to us who become nothing less than extraordinary as their cascade of raw and awesome magic paints our lives in the hues of our favourite colours. Mine are teal and orange and pink, thank you very much. What are yours?
The ironic thing about these people is that we were perfectly content before we knew that they existed. We never sat, swishing a tumbler of gin, desperately wishing that we could stumble across somebody with their face and their muted scouse accent and the same A-Z of qualities. We never missed the presence of this fine stranger or invented them in our idle mind on a mediocre Thursday. And yet, as soon as they were there, as soon as we felt the ardor of their presence, we sat, swishing a tumbler of gin, wondering how we were ever truly happy until they were a part of our lives.
These people, the real life wizards; they vivify everything. When we're around them, we laugh a little harder, we think a little deeper, we pursue our dreams that little more fiercely, we cartwheel with more enthusiasm, we confront our fears, we go for walks at midnight and stare out at the sea and think, 'YES! This is MY LIFE! I am and I can and I will...(insert further bursts of unwavering optimism and exclamation marks here)'. When these people are around us, they inspire us to be so much better, without ever thinking it or telling us that we need to be.
We're not stupid. We know that our wizards aren't immune to irreparable flaws; they entertain as many inner gremlins as the rest of us. They might be stubborn or crude or tell shit jokes or eat all of our cheese. They might take certain things too seriously or other things not seriously enough at all. We might look at them and envisage that they could easily be the most annoying bloody person that we've ever stumbled across. But they're not. They never will be. We're not blind to their shortcomings, but somehow, each flaw of theirs becomes a trail of spirited discovery, a joining of dots on their imperfectly perfect, grubby souls. Everything they think and say and do matters, and yet doesn't really matter at all, because we'll remain entirely captivated by them, eternally overcome by a bizarre and rare and precious and inconspicuous magnetism. It's never been as incredible to be human than when they're stood right next to us.
All too often, these people don't inhabit our lives for the eternity that we hope for. They come, spiralling out of nowhere, they inject their colour and wit and wisdom and they wave their metaphorical wand and wear out their terrible jokes and they fuck things up in the best possible way. And then they go, and life goes on, and we're still happy; we're happy because we met them; we're happy because our soul's been stripped and muddled and thrown back together; we're happy because we experienced this furious connection of hearts and minds and souls (and genitals, sometimes); we're happy because they're alive and we're alive and that's always worth celebrating. We're left with beautiful ruins, and not much cheese, and we feel an innate sense of gratitude to the universe because of it.
Call it fate, luck, or an erratic sequence of absolute, blind inconsequence. Whatever it is, even without capes and 'wingardium leviosa' and flying unicorns, it's magic. These people are wizards, the very best kind. Sorry Harry.