My heart has been set on wishing. There's something I want very much, and it really doesn't have much to do with patience of perseverance. It's a shot in the dark, a hope to long for. And I'll find out if it comes true soon. I cleaned my room yesterday in an effort to distract myself; there's something relaxing about being in the mood to clean, sort, and explore the treasures lying hidden in your space. I have three book shelves in my room, with the middle one being a tad bit shorter than the other two. On it I have my Apollo bust and a bunch of very tiny books that can't fit on a normal shelf. There, while dusting, I rediscovered the tiny book called Wishing: Shooting Stars, Four-Leaf Clovers, and Other Wonders to Wish Upon compiled by Gloria T. Delamar.
I'm not surprised to find this little book again. While, at the ripe age of twenty-two (almost twenty-three!), I still feel adventuresome when I try a new flavor of potato chips or go on a new theme park ride. However, there are things I love that I think I'll always continue to love. I guess wishing has always fascinated me. Who hasn't wished? Like any other kid, I used to think of what I would wish for if I stumbled upon Genie's lamp. But lamps are rare treasures to find. They're buried in caves or under the land at the bottom of the sea. Genies don't want to be found; they're rather lazy and quite content to spend eternity lounging on plush pillows and watching the travel channel. So how do normal people wish? Well, my book tells me that you can just about wish on anything - but there are rules. And they're rather intriguing. So for this post, I'd thought I'd share some of my favorites from the book:
"If an acorn falls while you're standing under an oak tree, pick it up, turn it around three times, and make a wish. To make the acorn's magic stronger, place it in a windowsill for three days."
"If you catch a lightning bug (also called a firefly or glowworm), place it on the back of your ring finger, as though it were a ring, and wish for a jewel. If the bug glows, you'll get your wish; if it flies away before glowing, you won't."
White Rabbit Night
"'White rabbit night' - the last night of a month - happens twelve times a year. If you say 'white rabbit' three times - sometime after midnight, and before you speak to anyone - you may make a wish for good luck for that month."
"If you're passing under a trestle just as a train goes overhead, make a wish."
Interesting, eh? There's quite a bit of them in this book and it's nice to see that every culture has some kind of wishing tip or trick. But I'm always wondering: why is that we feel the need to wish on something? Perhaps it is because we really do believe that inanimate objects or concepts have power of their own. Maybe a fallen leaf can carry our wishes higher than the words that echo in our heads. What do you think?
The rest of my afternoon will be full of busy work, a lot of thinking, and indulging in some sweets. I confess I haven't made a wish on anything yet. I can't decide if I want to, even if such little folk tales and tips are fun to read about. I might keep my wish inside myself and keep it warm. Maybe, each time I realize it, it'll burn hotter than the summer air.
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