If you cannot accept anything on faith, then you are doomed to a life dominated by doubt.
~ Miracle on 34th Street
You have to believe in things that aren’t real. Otherwise how else can they become?
~ The Hogfather
What is this illusion called? the innocence of youth? Maybe only in that blind belief can we ever find the truth ~ Grown up Christmas List
But also:
But I say that it does do harm. I tell her that her is no Santa Claus, and then she comes here and sees a very convincing man with a real beard and a beautiful Santa suit right in the middle of a child’s fantasy world. So who is she to believe? The myth? Or the Mom? ~ Miracle on 34th Street
I have been doing a lot of musing these last few days on the idea of belief. What it means, what it is, and where the line is.
One of my high school friends many years ago pointed out that you can’t spell “believe” without “lie” – and at the time that made me very angry and sad but I couldn’t understand why. I still don’t completely know why the idea of believing in something is so very important to me.
Like so many children, I believed in Santa Clause as a child, but the odd thing is I don’t remember believing in the actual person – I’m sure I must have, when I was very small, but my earliest memory is knowing how important the spirit of the thing was. How important it was to be able to put my faith into something that I couldn’t see; I logically understood that the jolly fat man in the red suit was not ‘real’ in the same sense that my parents and I were, but on some other level I was okay with that. I suppose I could have looked at it as putting my trust in what could ultimately be viewed as a lie (although a lie given with love), but I think looking back it was more a way that I learned how to put my trust in the unknown.
When I was little, Christmas Eve was the most magical night of the year. Looking back, I don’t think Christmas was really about Christmas Morning for me – Christmas morning was busy, and it was when people visited and you had to be all dressed up and pretty (yes, my house was strange, we were never a PJ’s on Christmas family) – Christmas Eve though was about me and my parents; the “best tree we ever had” and decisions for the coming year. And – whether real or not, hanging the stockings remains a part of that tradition – not just for me, but for my parents as well (I was never under the impression that Santa filled my parents’ Christmas stockings, but I don’t remember that being an issue either), along with so many other things that remain dear traditions sheltered in my heart. Things that I will probably never give up or give away.
And I think that is all wrapped up in it too…
The world is a harsh place. These days, people often learn that young. So many people I love learned it too young. Perhaps the reason that – while I detest being lied to – I have no problem with believing in ‘mythology’ is because I understand the need to hold onto something that makes the world seem a little less harsh. We all need a light in the window, and I think I was lucky enough to have a family who was somehow able to transition me from believing in the elves in the North Pole to the general goodness of humanity.
As it is, I do remember very clearly the year that it was tacitly decided it was okay for me to stop playing – but that’s a subject for another post perhaps. If ever. Though it’s not a sad story by any means.
And I think that’s the key: no one forced me to believe. My parents never actually sat me down and told me there was or wasn’t a jolly fat man in a red suit, and I’m fairly certain that if I had ever made it clear that I didn’t want to “play” that even my Mum would have let my belief (or disbelief) develop (or fade) on it’s own; however much it may have pained her. I think that’s the trick to believing in anything really – no one can make you do it. You have to come to it on your own. Or not. And if someone actively tells you something is true, assures you that it’s true when in fact it actually isn’t, rather than letting you decide for yourself what you want to do with the information – then perhaps that’s the difference between a belief and a lie; however warm-hearted or kindly meant.
I think over the years my ability to continue to believe in the idea behind the myth of someone who flies all around the world in one night has come to encompass my deep-seated need to believe that there is something worth believing in in this crazy world. Something that can still put a smile on a child’s face – however brief – something that for just one or two moments each year, can maybe make the world a little less cynical, a little less skeptical. It is so difficult to find that these days. Or at least it feels difficult.
Some small thing that for just a moment delays finding out just how harsh the world is…gives a much needed excuse to just straight up be kind to each other…
Sad though, that we need an excuse at all…
But everyone needs the ability to believe in something, I really do hold to that, and belief? I think the ability to believe – not in the religious sense – has to be taught, I don’t think – sadly – that belief is something that really comes to us naturally, though it’s something we need desperate, especially now.
So here I am, on this Christmas Eve, far from home, wishing for my oranges in the glitz and glamour all around me, and silently holding tight to the belief that yes, all this means something, all this is for a reason…
That believing is not about believing in a person, or a thing, or even a time, it’s about believing in humanity’s ability to be kind…
So maybe it is silly…
But I believe…
And as it is Christmas Eve, I will be going to bed uncharacteristically early…
Merry Christmas everyone…