As I stare into the fire, the cool spring night air fills my lungs. Transfixed by the dancing flames, I close my eyes and go to a sacred place. That place I call magic. I have gone there since I was a kid, and I still go there today. Inside my mind and soul swirls the notion that real magic exsits. It's just a matter of letting it out. It can be a profound and surrealistcally self realizing moment. To create wonder and build on a ancient tradition of ritual. Magic is life. In every moment of every day there is magic waiting to be born. It might be a smile on a face, or a billow of smoke rising from a cigar. Or it might be the hissing and popping of a fire pit fire in my back yard.