There are those who believe in the power of ritual. The ability of mind-numbing repetition to breach the barriers that prevent things from happening. These are your dance-junkies and your potion drinkers, those who think a recipe is what is called for here. Something that can be taught and then replicated by every mindless crony that happens to come along.

“Magic!” they yell, “give us some magic!” and you know my response is to cast the spell and damn them forever. Give them what they want because in their mindlessness they never specify that the Magic they so badly crave may not necessarily be good for them.

I wanted this to be real so I will begin with a secret. Magic cannot be found. It finds you. If you really want to be able to do Magic you need to abandon who you are or rather who you think you are and start looking for the real you.

 
This is the choice we face when we reach out and perform the impossible: abandon the obvious and the superficial, discover the deep and the real and find out, like really find out what your limits are.
 

In Magic you have to learn to kill and the first victim is yourself. You take apart everything you believed in and everything that stopped you from achieving what you want and then you put together the entire thing that leads you somewhere else. The only thing is that the person who gets to this new place is no longer the person who set out to get there.
 

Success! You have just assassinated yourself. In the killing you have learnt a pain that is beyond forgetting and will mark you forever. Repudiating your own belief system is not a nice thing to do. It’s like skinning yourself.
 

A good lesson. It hardens you. You learnt to forget that there is such thing as compassion.