I believe in happy endings. I believe the path there is cut from the sacrifices of heroes. I believe the stories that speak of such things are built not from a formula per say but from the components of human imagination. Alchemy is defined as “a seemingly magical process of transformation, creation, or combination.” Imagination is defined as “the faculty or action of forming new ideas, or images or concepts of external objects not present to the senses.” I believe these two processes are the same thing, a point in which the human mind reaches beyond the known to connect with what can be known and moreover can be believed.
We are part of an infinite universe that, it seems, stemmed from a singular event–a singular atomic particle. That means we are all connected across the vastness of space and time and the dimensions that we have yet to understand or observe. The particles of life communicate–be it through chemical reaction or the simple kiss of wind against your cheek. Everything is part of that larger conversation. Every snippet of talk I hear as I walk by, every interaction I see, every conversation I overhear informs my conscious and subconscious and grants me momentary access to the imaginable. The alchemy of Imagination is the taking of that raw data and transforming it into a connection between individuals; to build a bridge of understanding that spans what we believe and what we feel.
Perhaps such lofty ideals is too much to ask of a simple story. When I write I pull together these thoughts and I hope that someone gets what I am trying to say. I hope more than someone takes what I am trying to say and performs their own alchemy to shape what I have cast into what they need in order to make sense of where they are.
Like anyone subject to long stretches of failure, hope can seem dim and I can feel like I no longer know how to compose. I am not a philosopher’s stone and cannot always find the right words to transform idea into story, but I can continue to try. For a while I stopped trying and forgot that the key is not to succeed, but to effort. I forgot that the components of imagination still clang and rattle in my psyche no matter what I say or do, and there is nothing else to do but try and turn them into something useful.