For most of my life I did not believe in magic or anything of a spiritual nature. My friend on the other hand, does believe in magic and has experiences that corroborate her belief. She readily wins games of chance, guesses right answers, reads minds, stumbles into things she needs, telepathically communicates with relatives over long distances, and has magical moments. In contrast, I have no luck, suck at guessing, can’t read minds, barely communicate with family over the phone, and experience no magical circumstances.
Of course I tried to shrug off her magical abilities, but I’ve lived with her for two decades — for how long can I ignore the obvious? Life is not as concrete as I thought. Whereas I thought her magical mumbo-jumbo was the product of a fanciful imagination at work, she thought my pessimistic physical-world-based reasoning was terribly limiting and just plain wrong. Point taken. I was clearly closed-minded and suffered accordingly: I believed in a dark and dangerous world and experienced it as such.
If she says magic is real, that the basis of reality is spiritual, not physical, then who am I to judge? And it only took me twenty years to become this open-minded. Now I want to be a magician, I’m ready to believe that wishes can come true, that life conspires to fulfill my dreams. And of course I must apologize to her for my constant unbelief and dour predictions about every outcome. I get it now, and as penance, I shall endeavor to shed my relentless pessimism.
I always seek to align myself with whatever seems most likely to be true. I’ll drop my beliefs in an instant if at anytime they’re proven wrong. So after realizing the wrongness of my so-called realism, I reject it. But like most people, I’m liable to retract in the opposite direction when discovering a source of pain or error. Consequently, I might be rejecting material existence to a degree that seems excessive, but who knows. I, for one, welcome our new elfin overlords.