It’s easy to believe when we’re children. The innocence of childhood is like a brilliant suit of glass armor. It’s easily cracked and shattered but almost beautiful enough to stop a war. If the glass isn’t broken by life’s heavy hand, we willingly remove it. The body grows the glass does not. What about the ferocious imagination of the child? Like a sword it carves space into the fabric of the universe, filled with new language, law, and adventure. Birthed from a mind that still believes in things not seen or measured. As we age the sword is dulled. Edges aren’t sharpened with a TV screen. The glass isn’t polished with our material boredom. The language is muffled with our adult chemicals. With active engagement with the so called unbelievable, there we find our sword.