Magic Realism

The steaming hot mug of my rare late morning wake up coffee seems to have done the trick today. Even as it is in the making I sense this is going to be more than my daily dose of caffeine kick. It brews up a story. A story? Is that what this post is, I wonder? Yet the dictionary grants my usage to be correct. Having heard, told, and lived so many stories, the concept somehow becomes synonymous with fiction. But well, stories are real too I realize! Don’t know if that makes me happy or not, but that I believe should be another story for a ponderous day. Today is the day for nostalgia and the beauty of reminiscence and my steaming brew begs to reconnect. Each sip stirs up and creates a swirl of memories – like I like to say, flashes of memories- and I give in to re-experience the déjà vu…

It suddenly seems like ages before and yet I can hardly even recount weeks to have passed. The post-midnight nothingness chants, the impulsive jump out of bed jig to a quick beat, the lost murmurings (read abuses) tagged stress, the soul searching discussions titled life, the many blank, insane, but blunt questions termed reality check, and the convenient and feel good answers called defiance, the abrupt give them all to Jesus cry of an atheist, and the all woes forgotten plea of the Sufi maestros, the spirit lift and high rush in response to the melody of music, the sweet slumber with the lyrics of the ghazals, the humming and losing one’s self until the adrenaline levels drop and the sedatives and acids begin to work and Nyn reigns supreme and finally Morpheus steps in to end the Appolo-Hypnos combat.

….And then out of nowhere the ‘Wecker klingt’ and marks the beginning of another mundane yet responsible wake up call. The satin signs of the night only lure back to the cuddle of the blanket, while a collage of a thousand ‘to-do’ notes stares into my face and makes me come full circle to my favorite mug of black bitter coffee.

How I wish I could call this the magical reality of my life, yet it remains but a phase of ‘magic realism’ for reasons I choose to keep closeted. It is all too true to be only magic and yet the magic too short-lived to be the reality of my life. But one must be contented with one’s share now, mustn’t one?

And so I take the lazy luxury of holding the steaming brew that created my magic today, tightly unto my bosom and feel the glow as the warmth spreadth and yet sense the heart burn the heat causeth.

-Monica