Until the prince calls
“Keep one week open. Leave room for magic.”
I just finished listening to Prince Harry’s memoir “Spare.” I decided to listen to rather than read the book because he is narrating and, if I have the choice between watching the words go by on the page until I fall asleep or listening to a prince whisper in my ear at night, I’m going to let Harry read me a bedtime story.
This is not to say that his book is a fable, though he does come off rather fantastically. He is self-effacing, self-aware, and self-deprecating. His actions are kind and lacking in ambition for royal status. He celebrates the achievements of others and cares deeply about animals and the environment. He speaks well of his ex-girlfriends. He loves his wife. Against the petty posturing of Charles and Camilla and the jealous hyper-reserve of “Willy” and Kate, Harry seems almost fantastically normal.
Except for that he is a prince.
About two-thirds of the way through the 416-page narrative, Harry meets Meghan and clues us in on their burgeoning romance. Harry and Meghan are busy people with globe-trotting careers and the privileges, responsibilities, and curated calendars that come with wealth. As they were getting to know each other, finding the time to actually be in the same city (or even on the same continent) was difficult—filming schedules, speaking engagements, social events, and family duties kept them moving all over the world.
Harry recounts a story of a particular summer in which he feared they would not be able to meet. Harry had only one week open and Meghan “was going with two girlfriends to Spain, and then with three girlfriends to Italy.” But one friend had advised Meghan to “not be so structured about her summer…. Keep one week open, leave room for magic, so she’d been saying no to all kinds of things, reserving one week, even turning down a dreamy bike trip through the lavender fields of France…”.
When they looked at their calendars, he realized the one week he had open was the same week she’d left open for magic. He booked a trip for two to Botswana.
How is biking through lavender fields in France not magic?
Well, of course, it is. If you or I were offered an excursion in France to bike through lavender during a week in which we had nothing better planned, it would be magic. While we might feel inclined to bristle at her privilege, remember there are millions of people who would be equally aghast at ours.
I am not interested in critiquing Meghan’s lifestyle; I am here to recognize the magic.
Magic, in my mind, is an event that happens outside of imagined possibility. Magic is wonderous, exciting, and perhaps a little suspect. Magic defies its context.
What does magic look like?
Looking at Meghan’s calendar, biking through France is just another option in a summer of girls’ trips to Italy and weekends in Spain—it doesn’t seem that out-of-the-ordinary. Yes, it might be magical, but not it’s not magic. But spending a week with the Prince Henry of Wales camping under the stars in Botswana? That is startling, unanticipatable, outside the realm of possible. That is magic.
Unsurprisingly, I spent some time this week working with my May calendar. The end of my semester is approaching, and I have a number of responsibilities at the college that need my attention. As I was scheduling meetings, planning travel, and finding time for extra office hours, I noticed that I had one day—May 18—that was wide open. In the chaos of color-coded work, family, and social events, I saw a 24-hour hole of nothing.
I had one day open for magic.
How will I recognize magic?
Well, I just will.
When I mentioned my open day to a friend of mine, she immediately asked me what I was going to do with it. And before I could even think about it, I said, nothing. A day, a week, or any container open for magic has to remain open to something I cannot imagine, which means I can’t plan for magic. I can’t fill it with a massage or a mani/pedi that I think is magical.
Having a day in May with nothing in it is already magical—I did not plan that, it just happened and in looking at my calendar, I can’t imagine how it did. Why would I ruin it? But the obvious question is, how long do I have to hold the day open? How long do I have to wait for the magic?
Obviously, until the prince calls.
