So There Can Still Be Mystery - Jan 11 2026

 

So There Can Still Be Mystery

Jan 11 2026

I envy the magician.

His disarming patter

and sleight of hand,

the clever way

he makes me doubt reality.

He has me feeling wonder,

something I realize I haven’t felt

since I first encountered the world 

as a little child,

wide-eyed

and open to everything. 

Mere illusions and tricks

I know aren’t witchcraft or sorcery

but still seem supernatural.

So instead of questioning

I accept magic into my life

at least for now;

I am a skeptic

suspending his disbelief,

a cynic

softening his sourness. 

All those years of politicians

deceiving and distracting

and promising magic

when they know they can’t,

of perfecting their patter

while glad-handing voters

and slapping their backs,

and of holding out a hand

to grafters and sycophants

and shady scallywags

have hardened me.

But this silly man

in a top hat and shabby pants

has me laughing and clapping 

with giddy delight,

pleased to be fooled.

I’m sure his parents disapproved.

How could a sensible man

make a living playing children’s games? 

And how could their son 

commit his life to a skill

more suited to conmen and grifters

than upstanding citizens?

But passion always wins,

hard work pays. 

Close-up magic

on a black velvet table-top

inches from my eyes.

A momentary escape

in a world I don't recognize,

and feel more and more unsafe. 

I can’t help but lean in closer,

laser sharp

not to let him outsmart me

with his armament of tricks.

But frankly, happier

if the illusion goes unspoiled

his secrets unjrevealed.

So there can still be mystery in this world

when we know too much

for our own good

. . . or think we do.

And so I can let go

instead of always taking charge.

There was a day

when the guardians of morality

would have denounced this display

as witchcraft and wizardry

the devil’s handiwork.

Would have preached and rabble-roused,

inciting the mob

to  burn him at the stake,

or hold his thrashing body

underwater

to see if he drowns.

I’m an avid viewer of Penn and Teller’s Fool Us. It’s an hour of absolute delight and breath-taking skill, imagination, and artistry. Before I discovered this show, I never know that magic these days had become so creative, entertaining, and sophisticated.  I remember when Letterman had on as a regular guest a terrible magician, but one who took himself quite seriously: amusing irony (if a little cruel), but lousy magic! Who knew magic had progressed from kids’ parties and lame tricks to brilliant illusions in plush theatres before hundreds of astonished adults.

My favourite is close-up. And I always think that in a more superstitious age (which is most of human history — and I fear seems to be returning, after a brief enlightened interlude) these magicians would have been denounced as witches, and most likely burned at the stake. Or subjected to the perverse logic of forcing underwater:  if they survived, they were guilty; and if they drowned, innocent — exonerated, but dead!

Nowadays, though, magic inspires a very different response:  wonder, as well as the realization that there is still mystery in this world. Which is why it’s better not to know — despite how much we may want to — how it’s done.

(You can find the show on the (relatively obscure) CW network. There are also plenty of great clips on YouTube.)