The Willing Suspension of Disbelief

This time of year is rich in layers of story and cultural myths no matter what we believe.

As both readers and writers, we are practiced at the willing suspension of disbelief. We have to have some kind of faith in order to write, to create inner and outer worlds. We also have to have faith in order to read fiction, don't we?

I believe in the power of redemption, Santa Claus and babies. I believe in giving gifts to the spirit in all of us, just as the Wise Men brought gifts to Jesus, and the Norse God Wotan dropped gifts from the sky.

I believe that we have the chance to be reborn again, and again, and again. That believing is keeping our eyes alive, and being open to the concept of seeing what we believe.

Because I don't only want to believe what I see - that is too limiting. What if I am cranky, as can sometimes be the case with all of us? Then I will only be able to see the glass as half empty.

Believing takes a certain amount of work, of risk.

My friend Amanda, a writer friend in Chicago, sent me one of my grandmother's Christmas poems yesterday. The remembering made me smile,  and I thought I would share with you here:

The Risk of Birth
by Madeleine L'Engle

This is no time for a child to be born,
With the earth betrayed by war and hate
And a comet slashing the sky to warn
That time runs out and the sun burns late.

That was no time for a child to be born,
In a land in the crushing grip of Rome;
Honour and truth were trampled by scorn --
Yet here did the Saviour make his home.

When is the time for love to be born?
The inn is full on the planet earth,
And by a comet the sky is torn --
Yet Love still takes the risk of birth.



That says it all, doesn't it? Love.

Right now I am smelling the turkey my husband is cooking for our Christmas Eve feast. I am looking forward to going to church tonight, and then afterward, giving the kids their Christmas pajamas, (the husband and I get some too) and getting ready for bed, only to stay up late to have cookies, hot chocolate and watch It's A Wonderful Life. (Yes, we leave some for Santa!)

Then it's time for visions of sugar plums to dance in our heads, and the willing suspension of disbelief.

Merry Christmas, to my friends who celebrate, and to my other friends, thank you so much for being in my life and helping me to broaden my world view.

In love,

Léna

What Do You Believe?

Image via Wikipedia

"Do you really believe in Santa Claus?" my oldest son has asked me for the past three years.

And the answer is always "Yes!" Or at least, I want to believe. It is more fun to suspend disbelief than not. My ten year old chooses to have fun, and my five year old doesn't have to suspend anything: she knows. My eight year old is somewhere in between.

A post-Christmas blog about Santa ? How passé, you are probably thinking.

Yet this time of the year never fails to strengthen my belief that we are what we perceive. This is what I am most curious about with my friends, family and new people that I meet: how do you view the world? It's not a question of religion.


My eight year old son, when he hasn't been playing in the snow, has been running around the house with a special pair of glasses that his grandmother in North Dakota sent him. These glasses hold promises of rainbows - you put them on, look at a light, and the world becomes a beautiful kaleidoscope of colors. Quite an interesting spin on the ole "rose-tinted glasses" phenomenon.

In my youth I used to wear figurative rose-tinted glasses  - it was like being a fraudulent Pollyanna. But whenever I got shot by the slings and arrows of life, I would rip them off, giving myself a dose of hard "reality", which would inevitably send me on a frantic search for those glasses again. You see the tautological conundrum!

As an adult I am constantly seeking balance between these two ways of looking at the world, and of course have found multiple others. (You all know how obsessed I am with mysticism!) Rose-tinted glasses don't have to be what we put on when we don't want to deal with reality. Neither does religion, Santa Claus, spirituality.

And somebody somewhere is always accusing religion of being the opiate of the masses. (Karl Marx)

But it is what helps us to see the world in all of it's glory, both dark and light. My beliefs help me to see the cup as half-full, and help me to stay grateful for what I do have instead of focusing on what I don't.

This is what I wish for myself and for everybody this solstice/ Christmas/ New Year: gratitude and acceptance, with a generous sprinkle of the fun of Santa Claus, no matter where your beliefs lie.