Magic. I believe in it. I want it. I need it. And in late June of 1973, I experienced tangible, unmistakable and glorious moments of it.
The location of this astonishing occurrence was a prestigious college campus in Lewiston, Maine – my hometown, in fact. I had graduated from high school just two weeks earlier, and so was entering what they say is “the best time of your life” – off to college in Washington, D. C. in a few months to make my mark upon the world! Before I was to undertake that little adventure, however, I would attend a three-week conservatory for actors in their late teens, held at Bates College, a school with a highly respected curriculum in general, but an especially esteemed Theatre Department. Imagine the atmosphere, about thirty-six young guys and gals aspiring to a career in Theatre, working with like-minded individuals in a creative environment! This was a rare treat for us all.
The general atmosphere was amazing – electric! We were all just so excited by our lives at that time. Prior to this, we had all performed in high school productions, and though we bonded strongly with our fellow Thespians, face it, we were considered “weirdoes” by the majority of our schoolmates. We were the “Goths” of the ‘70s. So here, we had a tremendous, exciting opportunity to work with others who had a passion for the Art and who took it as seriously as we did. Seventeen and eighteen-year-old creative young men and women – just imagine the rampant passions swirling about the college campus that summer! This electricity, I believe, had a lot to do with what happened.
The curriculum for the conservatory consisted of a very full schedule with fencing, dance and acting classes. What little free time we had was then devoted to rehearsing the big main stage production in which everyone would perform at the end of the three weeks, and additionally three one-acts in which a few of us had been cast.
The day of the Incident of Magic arrives. This was perhaps the third day of the conservatory, so we were still in a getting-to-know-each-other mode. The setting was the main stage of the theater, which is a place of magic in of itself. The sparkling energy that exists there during a performance when there is the instantaneous interplay between performers and audience is one thing; the force that exists on a stage, with an empty house, and collaborators searching for truths, sending (verbally and nonverbally) ideas back and forth is an entirely different, yet equally exciting place to be. Working in this atmosphere, one’s senses are truly heightened, sound, especially is sharp and distinguishable. Your awareness is finely tuned.
This was an Acting class overseen by two of the Bates College student instructors. We were all on the stage, minimal lighting creating a warm, intimate mood. The exercise in which the incident occurred is called a “mirror exercise.” The student instructor, Rick, had us divide ourselves on stage into three parallel groups with an “A” side and “B” side each facing each other. There were approximately, then, six A’s and six B’s in three different groups. For the first exercise, each person in the A side was to slowly perform some very simple movements while staring into the eyes of the B-side counterpart. The B person’s job was to try to “synch up” with the A person, mimicking not only the movements, but attempting to do so in as fluid a fashion as possible.
The next step had all the B-side people move down one, so that they were paired with a new partner. This time, the B-side person did the initiating, and the A-side person had to mirror.
It was in the third portion that it happened. The B-side people were then told to move down once again, and paired up with a new partner. My new partner then, was Brenda, a very attractive and intelligent-looking, brunette young lady I had noticed before, but not really spoken to. My impression of her was that of a quiet, yet confident and constantly thinking person. At 6’2”, I towered over her 5’3” frame and yet I sensed a strong commitment and resolve on her part. I also felt that she was as serious and dedicated about this Craft as I was; we would each pour out our blood, sweat and tears for the perfection of this, our chosen work. This attitude on both our parts, I believe, was also key to what transpired.
The instruction this time by Rick was that neither side was to initiate action. We were supposed to stand and stare into each other’s eyes until a bond occurred and we became one entity. Ideally, a connection would occur and we would spontaneously move as one unit. Well, this connection occurred, all right, but not in the way it was expected.
As I said, I believe that the reason this happened is that Brenda and I stuck to the rules; we would not fabricate a bond that wasn’t there. We stared and stared into each other’s eyes. Peripherally, after about three minutes, we sensed others around us slowly moving in synch. For us, nothing had happened. After about seven minutes, it would have been tempting to fake the bond; one of us could have subtly initiated the action and we’d be with everyone else. Neither Brenda nor I would do this. We were purists in pursuit of our Art.
Then it happened. I’m not sure of the exact second that it began, but Brenda and I, still staring intently into each other’s eyes, began to speak to each other – in and with our minds. Yes, it sounds preposterous and fabricated, but it is not. We suddenly found ourselves communicating in complete sentences without speaking a word. I don’t recall much about what was specifically said. I do remember that I said at one point, “Is this really happening?” Most of the dialogue related to the strangeness of the experience. If I could recall specifics, I have the sense that I wouldn’t be able to say, “She said this and I said that.” It seems that we shared the dialogue, and it would be hard to distinguish who said what.
The experience was like being in an enclosed, cushioned and comforting, dark space. Our physical selves left behind, our consciousnesses inhabited this place. It was a very emotional experience, and at one point, tears began streaming down Brenda’s face. Eventually I did make an executive decision, as it were, and instigated our squatting down for comfort’s sake.
I don’t know how long this continued; but there must have been a clear signal from “outside”, that is from the physical place we’d left our bodies; and Brenda I simultaneously returned. Weak and disoriented, we said nothing. Then Rick came over and quietly, almost reverently, said, “I don’t know what you two had going on, but it was beautiful.”
Brenda and I have remained friends for many years even through the many distances that often separated us. Strangely, we only spoke about our experience again twice, and that was many years later. I think we saw the experience as a sacred one, and didn’t want to weaken it by discussing it.
I have always said that I must have magic in my life, otherwise, what’s the point of existence? And I suppose that magic can mean different things to different people. Those moments on a darkened stage almost forty years ago, if nothing else, showed me that it does exist, and can be experienced. Yes, I know that it was a psychological phenomenon known as telepathy, and has been explored quite extensively in the scientific research community. Yet this proved that “special” moments are out there to be discovered. I have since experienced other, minor moments of what I insist on calling magic and they were no less incredible for me. However, this was the one most tangible and indisputable manifestation, and just the memory itself for me, is Magic.
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