Dec. 9: Zen and the art of magic making

 As luck would have it, I had an opportunity to do some magic tonight. I was at a hockey game with my son and, while there, fell into conversation with my friend, Scott, who runs the canteen at the arena. We got to talking about magic and, since I had about six Bicycle decks on me, decided to gift him one. A couple teenaged boys were milling around so we had an impromptu jam session. Scott did a trick. I did a trick. One of the teenagers did a trick - the one about the four kings going into different parts of the deck and all coming together in the middle (Stephen King says that's the best card trick in the world, mostly because the story usually has something to do with the kings running into a burning building.)

 I learned that trick when I was a boy, thanks to one of the best Christmas presents I ever received:

As such, I offered to show the guys a variation of that routine, even though I hadn't performed it in more than 30 years. So I do the trick and one of the teenagers says: "I think I know how you did it."

The American magician David Harkey once wrote that he is often amused by the ingenious but ultimately incorrect solutions that people come up with to explain magic tricks. Generally speaking, I don't like it when audiences say that. You hear it mostly when you perform for children and you hear it a lot more when your whole goal is to fool them rather than just have fun with them. Turn an audience into your adversary and they'll try to one-up you if you give them the chance.

Still, I sensed I could learn something from this young man so I asked him how he thought I did the trick. His solution was that I did the dirty work when I picked up the deck of cards to put the kings back in at different points.

He was wrong, but that didn't matter. The great Dai Vernon taught us to omit needless moves, to strive for simplicity. There was no need for me to pick up the deck when I could have simply spread it on the table. It would have allowed for a more clear effect and would have nullified the solution presented.

And I am reminded of the great magician and teacher, Harry Lorayne, who once watched an amateur magician do a card trick. Someone took a card, it was placed back in the deck, and the magician made a big show of fancy shuffles and cuts and flourishes before announcing that, after all that work, the card must be hopelessly lost in the deck.

Mr. Lorayne's reply: "With all that manipulating you just did, I'd think it a miracle if you couldn't find my card."

Keep it simple. Words to live by. In magic and in life.

Now that's zen.