Finding Her Way

Aubrie Edmond, Contributor

Last weekend, I went to the Mystery Spot in Santa Cruz, California. If you’ve ever been to Northern California, you see at least one bumper sticker for this place on the back of a car in most parking lots, regardless of the city. I’ve been to Santa Cruz at least a dozen times and my boyfriend goes to school there, but neither of us had ever been to the Mystery Spot.

The day we went it was unseasonably cold, given that it had been 75 degrees just days before. It was incredibly crowded even though it was about an hour and a half before closing, and there was about a thirty minute wait until the next tour. While we waited we walked through the gift shop, which contained every type of branded merchandise you could imagine. When the tour started, we were greeted by a very chipper tour guide and surrounded by what seemed to be one or two very large families. It was one of those typical tourist traps, but when I left I couldn’t stop thinking about it. My boyfriend kept talking about how the level was probably rigged and that there was no way that any of the tricks we were shown were scientifically possible, but there was a certain aura of mysticism that I didn’t want to ignore.

I feel like we live in a time where “truth” outweighs everything to a fault. When I was younger, it seemed a lot more widely accepted that there were just some things we didn’t know, and that was okay. This is something that I’ve even noticed in myself. As soon as the tour was over, the first thing I looked up was how the Mystery Spot worked. I wasn’t even looking for some sort of scientific explanation; I really just wanted someone else to confirm what I was feeling, someone to feel the magic with me. I don’t know why I do this, but I do it with everything. I’ll watch a TV show and check the internet to see if anyone has the same opinions as me, look at a video on Instagram and scroll through the comments, and the list goes on. Maybe something in me just wants to feel heard, to belong to something.

Aubrie Edmond