It’s that jolly time of year again, where conflicts arise between Santa-loving parents and those who are adamant their kids know the Fat Man is a fraud.
Or is that just in my circles? ‘Cause seriously: it’s a thing.
The anti-Santa camp argument goes something like, “Santa is a lie, and I don’t want to sell lies to my kids. It erodes the trust between us. They should know that presents on Christmas are bought and paid for by their parents as a result of hard work.” These folks don’t want to participate in the elaborate con that every Christmas they outsource responsibility for all the love and gifts under the tree to some overweight, arctic-loving dude with elf minions. I respect that.
In my house, I have no issues lying to my kids about Santa. Hell, I lie to them about all kinds of things: If you don’t brush your teeth they’ll fall out; yes, it really is your bedtime; you’re Canadian and if you don’t learn to skate, they put you in jail; I don’t have enough money for that; sorry, but Chuck E Cheese burned down.
Lying to them about Santa looks like comparatively good parenting, if you ask me.
I’m staunchly in the pro-make-believe-camp, mainly because for me, Santa represents the possibility of magic and miracles in the world, and frankly, I want my kids to throw their lot in with the incredible: Reindeer can fly, one guy can be everywhere in the world at once, and somehow he knows exactly what our secret dreams are for what will be under the tree.
Kids will spend the vast majority of their lives with the world aggressively marking the line for them between what’s “true” and what’s fantasy. They will endlessly be told to “get a grip” and (horrors) to “get real.” They will become jaded and cynical soon enough, so why hurry them along? How does that help, or more importantly change, anything?
What humanity needs is more people who’ve practiced being certain that just because you can’t believe it – doesn’t mean it’s not true.
Magic is effortless for the young: Animals can talk, toys come alive at night, crossing your fingers protects you from cooties and a guy like Santa is possible. We all start out this way, believing impossible things are possible. Time and age cause us to stumble down the hill and further away from our naturally-born faith; it gets educated, disciplined and disappointed out of us. The burdens of death, failure and all manner of heartbreak cause us to lose track of magic’s possibility; our so-called superior and hyper intellects crowd it out.
Except as adults, breathing life into the possibility of magic is everything: The person who discovers a cure for cancer, global warming or world economic disparity; the person who innovates, who launches a never-seen-before product or business; the person who figures out how to dive more than 7 miles below the ocean to see what’s there – these will be people who fundamentally believe that “impossible” isn’t a thing. The ability, as Jaqueline Wooley says, to “engage the border between what is possible and what is impossible,” is at the root of all scientific discoveries and inventions, “from airplanes to the Internet.”
A beautiful and hopeful future is in the hands of those able to actively hold space for miracles, and if once believing reindeer could fly gives them something to draw on, then I’m all in. I’m thinking now of a line from a Roald Dahl book: Those who don’t believe in magic, will never find it.
Lest you mistake me, I’m not advocating for magic of the “woo” variety in lieu of sound, critical thinking and hard work. Show me a person spending hours on the couch earnestly putting “intentions of success” out there into the cosmos as a business strategy, and I’ll show you a drain on the social system.
To the contrary, you research, you prepare, you get in alignment, you put in the necessary and exhausting work and then, something magical can happen. You’ve left the door open.
The point is that “Impossible” things don’t happen in a void of effort. Magic is naturally present when two people fall in love, for instance ― but the possibility of love can only manifest if you occasionally put on pants and leave your house.
Business writer Steve Tobak is staunchly anti-magical thinking, going so far as to say, “It’s remarkably destructive. It’s responsible for more failed businesses, blown careers and financial debt that you can imagine. And it’s practically an epidemic among the entrepreneur crowd.”
I don’t disagree. I do, however, think there’s a difference between true magic and magical thinking. What Tobak is talking about is lazy and delusional ― it’s believing you can simply will yourself to be happy and successful; that you can undercapitalize, overspend and still somehow win; that there really is such a thing as a 4 hour work week.
That said, except for a little (or a lot of) faith, few of us would dream of jumping into the void to create a new product, solution, business or even relationship. And what is faith if not a belief, ultimately, that benevolent and somehow magical forces not only exist, but will align to support you and your efforts?
Faith, in the end, is an act of trust. Henry Ford famously said “If you think you can or not, you’re right.” In a variation on a theme, I would say “If you believe that impossible, magical things are possible or not, you’re right.” Given the options, I will choose magic ― and Santa, as magic’s representative ― all day long.
When my daughter was three years old, we were driving in the car and Bob Marley’s “Exodus” came on the radio. I was singing along, and when it was over, from the back seat she declared “I really like that song.” Unreasonably proud of my toddler’s excellent musical taste, I said “Yeah, me too. It’s a good one. What do you like about it?” She answered, “I like the words. ‘Pixie Dust. Mover of the people.’”
The young get what I’m talking about. Magic is our birthright. And our power.
For all Carrie all the time, go to www.WriteOnGirl.com