guested: A reflection from Micah

To be totally honest, I was going to wait to share another guest post. It seemed like a good ratio– based on absolutely no science whatsoever— was 3 of my-posts to 1 guest-post. Then, today came by, and I used up all my energy making tortillas and cookies, and doing the laundry. Restorative, yes, but not writing. So, please welcome another guest!

This post is by my in-real-life friend, Micah, who definitely understands the types of day that zap your energy twice as fast. He has a sometimes, though unnamed, presence on this blog. (I didn’t go try hundreds of popcorn flavors by myself, after all!)

Micah is a versatile and prolific poet and musician who has never written a blog before, but I think our writing styles have a hint of similarity and felt like it would settle in just fine. Send him some hearts!

(P.S. Micah offers writing coach services, helping with everything from finding a voice to completing a project. I get asked on occasion if I know of such things, and my brain goes completely blank, so consider this a recommendation. Even though you have to cold-email him to set it up.


The ER Doctor asked me how I dislocated my shoulder. I was embarrassed to admit that a vigorous sneeze shook my body to pieces. I’m grateful for the illusion of my frame.

Most people don’t mess with me because I appear so strong. I’m burdened by the illusion of my frame, I smile excessively to offset the fear of my existence. On top of being philosophically nonviolent, I am fragile beyond belief, underdiagnosed with overachieving symptoms.

I’m afraid I might go out like Houdini. I am strong only when I see a thing coming. I dig my heels in the earth and withstand 34 years of being Black in America, but let a pollen-filled breeze catch me off guard and I might end up in the emergency room.

The ER Doctor asked me what I do. “I’m an artist; a musician and a poet.” His professionalism disappeared in a cloud of smoke. He grinned and explained that being an MD was just his side hustle.

His day job is a magician, the doctor stuff keeps the lights on, but magic keeps his spirit alive. I wondered if his mother was appeased by the compromise. I wondered if his lover is embarrassed by his passion. I swapped out his lab coat for a tuxedo, envisioned him surrounded by toddlers at a birthday party, drunk lawyers at the annual holiday ball. What a dynamic set of skills, the joy and the healing all in the same slight of hand. I wanted to see something magical, but thought it might be greedy to ask. I hoped his stubborn childlikeness rubbed off on me as he put me back together. 

The best magician I ever met was not a magician at all. He was a man of faith who didn’t want to be mistaken for a witchdoctor.

“I’m an illusionist” he said, “I do believe in magic, and I stay far away from it. Everything I do can be explained, but where’s the fun in that?” In the end, knowing you’re being tricked only takes away the fear, not the awe. This man made a table float without the help of evil spirits, I’m even more impressed. 

People ask me how I do “it”. “It” being all the things that seem normal to me, easily explained, just lots of practice. But the awe is still thick on their faces. I’m not tricking anybody on purpose. I look how I look. I do what I do, I like what I like, and I stopped caring what my mother thought a long time ago. I’m an illusionist. I appear stronger than I am, but take no pride in it. I do believe in magic, I just can’t seem to track it down. I just can’t find my miraculous healing. I just don’t need it for this life to feel magical.

It’s not a trick. I’m not a trick. I heal things while being sick. I mend things while being broken.

“Blessed are those who believe and have not seen”. I’m not sure what that means, but I’m excited to find out one day. 

7 thoughts on “guested: A reflection from Micah

  1. Hey, Micah! I heard you might be here sometime. I’m glad I caught you when you did. If you ever want to add “blogger” to every other title, I’d be there for that, too. And the leather jacket says “hi”, too. It always looked better on you.

    Liked by 1 person


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