Often in my journey through the Paranormal Community, I'm asked why I choose a more skeptical way of thinking, rather than a believers stance. Why I don't feel well enough in the "magic" of an event, but rather dissecting to exhaustion. My only honest answer could be, is that it's in my nature.
Since I was a small girl, I had a knack for tearing things apart to see how they work. I didn't care for the covers on some tape cassettes so I would tear them apart, splice them (if I didn't like songs), and decorate them with different colored cases or decorate the inside of clear ones. I enjoyed seeing how different things worked. The mechanics of it was fascinating to me. I have to admit, I still do it today.
If I see something working and it appears a little complex, I will no doubt take the back off and check it out. I've always been good with mechanics and methods of operation.
When I was a little girl I had this nearly life sized doll that had a music box inside of her, they called them "companion dolls". She was absolutely magical to me. You'd wind a key on her back and she would play a melody. I loved this doll, I remember taking her with me, even if she was awkward with her size. I seat belted her in where ever we went. I remember looking at this doll and thinking she was somehow alive in there.
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| Patti Play Pal Child-sized "Companion Dolls" were all the rage in the early 1960s-70s. For all of us who did not have any sisters, this was the next best thing! There were slight deviations in size but the majority stood at 36", about the size of a three year old child. The popularity of these dolls started with the beautiful Ideal Patti Play Pal (also seen it as Playpal). Soon other companies started to get into the market as they saw the explosion in popularity of this new life-sized doll. |
Her eyes were so glossy. She strangely spooked me a little all the while I felt her as a friend.
Most girls would be content to leave her as she was, but for me every time I dressed her I found myself attempting to open the compartment on her back to figure out what was playing music inside. I went out to my dad's workshop and brought in a hand full of tools I've seen him use often. I was no stranger to any of them, as I was usually my dad's right hand "man" when fixing things.
The door on her back was screwed in and even had some glue to keep the back from being opened. This obviously didn't stop me, instead I used a screwdriver to wedge the back open. Inside I saw this strange gold contraption. At this time it was nothing short of finding my dolls heart amongst a major operation. It really seemed I found a gem.
I unscrewed the mounted music box from inside and brought it out and put it on the kitchen table. I'm sure I fumbled with it for awhile before I finally turned the key and watched it play. A small "comb" brushed along the bumpy cylinder, and that familiar tune played. I marveled at this tiny piano plunking keys one at a time. I watched it as it was freshly keyed, how it moved in time and how it slowed as momentum gave way.
I was mesmerized by it. I remember glancing down at my doll on the floor feeling as if her soul had left and it was sitting right here on my kitchen table. The doll lost her magic, but I opened up a whole new world, marveling at how such a tiny complex mechanism could create such a beautiful, haunting sound.
Upon seeing what I had done, my parents took my doll to the community dump. I mourned for her. In memoriam, I kept her music box. I played it until one day I left it outside and it became rusted and it never played again.
But my curiosity continued. Who figured out how to create this? How did they do it?
After this I was never able to look back. The magic of dolls and jewelry boxes didn't matter. To me the magic was in figuring out how this is happening. How can something so simple and so complex create such magic?
The paranormal is no different for me. The magic I felt in that doll is no different than the magic people feel day to day when something they don't understand, happens. Sometimes it's an event that provokes a memory of a deceased loved one, sometimes it provokes fear.
People have the desire to believe in the magic of it, despite the emotion or anguish that may accompany it. Most will completely avoid the fact there maybe some mechanics working, natural or otherwise, somewhere that are causing this phenomena. People want so badly to believe in the magic of an after life, they will not take a minute to open that compartment and look inside.
People are afraid that if they look inside, they will become disenchanted to the world as they wish to know it.
For me the magic isn't in the enchantment, but in the marvel how simple and complex something can be at the same time. What is it? Who or what is creating it? How is it creating this magical event I'm witnessing.
To me, that's the wonder of it all.
