What exactly is the role of a magician's assistant? I was troubled to find that added to one of my friend's favorite activities today, because all I think this entails is wearing a revealing costume, smiling a lot, waving your arms around, allowing the magician to saw you in half and finally, perhaps most importantly, making you disappear. Now, we all know the secret of the standard "disappearing" act. There are mirrors, trap doors, or extra curtains. But wouldn't it be great if we really could disappear, even for just a few seconds?
During the past few weeks, I've expressed the tension that accompanies the winding down of a school year. Whether it is our first or our last, the uncertainty of what's to come hangs in the air like a stench everyone seems too uncomfortable to acknowledge. Will our friends from home have changed? Will we be able to find a summer job or internship that doesn't equate flipping burgers or stuffing envelopes? Will relationships endure, be put on hold or end completely? Will we be as happy somewhere else, as we have been here?
Couple this with finals, group projects, papers and capstones and you certainly have a recipe for meltdowns. There are several ways you can respond to these stresses in your environment. Spending some time alone may give you a certain sense of clarity that you can't quite grasp in the haze of spring's social fever. But spending time alone has never been my favorite solution to life's little problems, because sometimes, it is easier to get lost in a crowd than feel completely on display when you're by yourself.
Getting lost in the crowd was exactly my coping strategy for making it through last weekend's roller coaster of anxiety. Partying with the boys on Thursday wasn't the most obscure crowd to disappear into, but when everybody is more concerned about getting noticed, it's not that hard to be invisible.
The beauty of attending mutual birthday parties is that no one really knows who you are there to celebrate, so when you actually don't really know any of the birthday celebrants that well, you can tell people whatever you want. Unfortunately, this happened to be the same group of friends I once told I was a stuntman for child actors, so I had to be a little more conservative with my fictional tales, but nevertheless, new crowds you don't plan on seeing often can be a wonderful escape into anonymity. Not to mention the opportunity to discover a new, fun hip-hop bar to impress the ladies (and some gents) with your "moves."
And though you would think by spring of senior year that there weren't any seniors you didn't know, a quiet house party for a dear friend's birthday on Saturday proved the contrary. The rain outside seemed to wash out any possibility of life beyond her threshold. It was nice to sink into the couch and forget about the rest of the world, and just reconnect to friends I thought had already begun to already slip away.
I guess we're all a little like a magician's assistant sometimes. When we try to "disappear," it's not quite the thrill that the audience assumes. In the secret compartment, sweat rolls down your face as you twist and contort, trying to remain out of view. The crowd oohs and ahhs at the now empty cabinet, and you can't help but wonder if they are secretly hoping the assistant won't reappear. We all kind of want the illusion to fall short, because then there is no leap of faith required. If the magic fails, then our skepticism is validated.
Relationships require a leap of faith - faith that our significant other really feels the way they say they do. Faith that love exists at all and it is something we can actually experience and enjoy. Faith that when we are apart, in those moments when they are hidden from our view, they are never too far away from us, at least in spirit. Most of all, they require us to believe that when we return from disappearing our significant other is excited for our return. The magic may be difficult to believe in but, it's not designed to be completed alone. It requires at least two people, two hearts and two souls. It would be absolutely impossible for a magician to achieve without his faithful assistant.
This week, I was finally granted my ticket for escape. I only hope that those I love won't ever disappear forever and that those who remain here would applaud any future reappearance. And someday it would be nice to have my very own magician, if I'm able to take the leap.
