Pure logic is the ruin of the spirit

Tag: Philosophy

My Magic Carpet and I

After visiting my mom this Thanksgiving, I picked up a box of papers that she had set aside for me years ago.  In it, was this story I wrote in grade school some forty years ago.

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The text reads as follows,

My Magic Carpet and I

It was just another day when I was reading my Spider-man magazine, when I turned the page and I saw an advertisement for a magic carpet for $10.99. I had my money saved so I sent in for it.

Three weeks later they sent me a yellow and red magic carpet. There was only one problem though, I didn’t know how to drive. Then I said, “I sure would like to know where there is a driving school for magic carpets,” Right then my magic carpet took me up in the air. It stopped in Egypt where there was a sign saying ‘Go to Jonny’s flying carpet school’.

So I walked in with my magic carpet and asked how much it cost.

The cashier said, “One dollar please.”

“Hmm, that’s cheap,” I said, “where should I go to?”

“The right please,” the cashier answered.

“Will you come in?” asked a man, “my name is Jonny and you would like to know how to ride a magic carpet do you?”

“Yes.” I answered

“The secret is just to tell your magic carpet what to do.”

“I know that, but, what about all the other stuff like the clutch?”

“Strictly for show.”

I left with a dollar down the drain.

But I kept my magic carpet. From then on it was just my magic carpet and me.

Momi Ford              

About this blog…

Why dog hair? It’s annoying. Try as you might, you can’t vacuum it all. It clutches the fabric, mocking you, reminding you that nothing in life stays pure, unmarred, unchanged. But when you look closely, you might just find relics of love, adventure, friendships, life. Even the most miniscule remnants are reminders of those who brought us joy, who passed in and out of our lives, who challenged our faith and broken our hearts. So little in life goes as planned and even less can be controlled. We can obsess with trying to remove unwanted history that scars the landscape or choose to embrace it like the Velveteen Rabbit that it is and explore the path it blazes, creating our stories, in our own crevice in the couch.

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