Save Santa

So it's that time of year again!
Time for article after article voicing opinions on "the Santa question".  You know the one I'm talking about...
"Is it right to lie to your children?"
I have seriously seen this angle to Santa in articles, blogs, conversations, etc... too many times to count...and I have something to say about it.

FIRST of all...wow are there are a whole load of assumptions in this track of thinking.  This question jumps to a conclusion, diagnosis and judgment without ever filling in any of the thinking or philosophy behind what Santa means in general, let alone what it means to a particular person or family.

So for any of you who think "Santa is a lie, I'm not sure that's what I want for my children...", I offer you another perspective.  This is how I was raised, and what Santa is for ME:

Santa was a story, a presence and spirit of sorts, anticipated and eluded to, but never seen or discussed in a literal way...and by that I mean...nobody ever said to me "there will be a fat man who flies in a sleigh led by reindeer coming down our chimney and leaving stuff in our living room".  There was a sense of wonder, magick and mystery surrounding the legend.  We went to the mall to tell "Santa's helper" what we wanted for Christmas and I got a few of the things I asked for.  I don't recall ever questioning Santa, and maybe that was because I did not spend a lot of time with the skeptical kids, but Christmas was not all about Santa in my house either.  We have a very sacred Italian tradition revolving around the Nativity and only a few presents were from Santa, the rest were marked with the name of the "in the flesh" person giving them.
 Then one Christmas, as I recall, my mother told me the story of how when she was little, Santa brought her a doll that she loved more than anything, and that she knew there was no way her family could have afforded this doll, but it appeared for her on Christmas, and she believed that it was "Santa" who made it happen.  My child-mind at the time may have thought of this as a literal "Santa", but I don't remember that.  What I do know, is that I came to understand that my mother was saying "I believe in miracles and no matter what anyone says, miracles are possible".  So when I heard people speaking of "believing in Santa Claus", it never occurred to me, not once, to question Santa...because   I was not looking for a fat man in the chimney, I was imagining a magickal being; the spirit of Christmas, and his overwhelmingly provable influence on my world.
I also recall one year, I was perhaps 8 or 9 years old...I stood in my living room and looked at our fireplace, which basically decorative, with no chimney, and I said to my mom "Does Santa have to use the front door to our house...since we have no chimney?"  and I remember her evasive look...and the shift in the energy of the room...and I remember making a smirk...and that was the moment for me; the moment that I crossed the fence and could play from the other side of the court.
 See, I never had to "be told" anything or "find out" anything about Santa.  My comprehension deepened and shifted as I grew, because it was left to me and there was no attempt to make Santa some provable, physical, literal world THING.
Now, I know that what I was told and raised with is not necessarily the common experience.  My Santa was not going to punish me or leave me coal either.  We didn't do the "naughty or nice" blackmail crap.  MY Santa was not able to be seen and was understood as a mystical force.  I know some parents give straight answers about Santa and leave foot prints and otherwise worldly "evidence" of Santa's presence.  I find that way of going about it strange to be honest, because it sets the child up to associate faith or belief with empirical proof...and of course, that is a contradiction.  But if that was YOUR experience, and it turns you off the whole idea, know that there is more than one way to tell a story.

So because of all of this, when I hear people saying things like "but, you are lying to your kids!"...I feel a sadness, and anger as well; do these people have no imagination? No concept of a child's world and would actually sit there and tell a young child "that's only a story, it's not real"?  And maybe therein lies the main problem...that people equate "story" with being "false", and would go so far as to arrogantly teach their children that THEY are the authority on Truth and reality and that if it can't be seen then it is not real.  Well, that is not the message I want to send my children.

Stories, Fairy Tales have a very real place in our lives and in our children's lives.  They react with us on a visceral level and they tap into something deep inside us.  Albert Einstein knew this and Rudolf Steiner knew this as well, which is why so much of his Waldorf Education model was built around fairy tales and story telling as an art form.  If we start our children off with the idea that something they imagine is not "real", then I believe we are robbing them of the chance to figure things out on their own.  If it's a monster under the bed, they need to CONQUER it, not be told "that's not real".  If it's a fairy in the woods, they need to leave it a dish of honey and mind the toad stool rings.  Whether you believe in these things or not, your child may, and who are we to tell them that they are "imagining" something that, to them, is quite real...and in fact, we cannot disprove.  Stories play a part in the foundations of faith, and in the roots of our ability to trust ourselves and the world around us, not to mention being open tot he possibility that there is more "out there" than we may comprehend...the first lesson in humility.
From where I sit, Santa is so much more than a picture, a coke advert, or a fat bearded man sweating into a polyester suit at the local mall.  Santa Claus is a story...and for a child, it's the story to end all stories.  Santa can be an opportunity for a child to comprehend God in their own language, to relate to the idea of a benevolent force in the Universe working in their favor.  I have my own family now, and though we are Pagan by practice, we keep the traditions of our families alive and I take great joy in telling my sons how Santa Claus is known in different forms all over the world, just like the Goddess and God, just like Jesus and Buddha...and these are all connected on some level...a face for our human minds to relate to our higher power at every age, level and status.

In conclusion, these articles and blogs and parents are, in my opinion, asking the wrong question.
It's not "why do you lie to your children", it's "If you share the story of Santa Claus with your children, what is your attitude about it?"...let us have THAT conversation.  At least then, it shows some respect and some comprehension of a wider view of things.
I would even go so far as to ask "how can a rational and logically thinking adult give them a childhood without robbing them of their own sense of wonder?", and that requires work for the adult, especially the adult who "grew up" a little too much.  So YES VIRGINIA! There IS a Santa Claus and YES, I leave a plate of cookies as an offering to Father Christmas every year...because if Santa was not a "real" entity a few hundred years ago, the faith of thousands if not millions of children around the world for hundreds of years might just be enough to have made him manifest...and by now, he is probably a demi-God by way of relativity.
Bake those cookies and HO HO HO...Santa Claus IS coming to town!

The Magic Mirror Gate

In what I consider to be a timeless classic film "The Neverending Story", based on the novel by Michael Ende , there is a scene, where Atreyu is seeking counsel with an oracle, and in order to reach the oracle, he is told he must pass through two gates,  the second of which is known as the "Magic Mirror Gate", and when speaking of it, Professor Engywook says "...Atreyu has to face his true self...kind men, find that they are cruel.  Brave men find they are really cowards, and most men run away screaming". 

   

I have reached the "Magic Mirror Gate" of my life...or at least, one of them.

When I gave birth to my first child, I passed through one of these gates, and passed with flying colors.  I planned a home birth with professional midwives, I had support from family and friends and I was somehow able to get through a very long and exhausting labor by simply (and not so simply) letting go of any expectation, save for trusting my body and knowing that my "team" would take care of me if I needed a real intervention.  It worked.  I zenned through it and came out on the other side, euphoric and triumphant and validated and strong.  I face my "true" self and I was braver than I thought.
That got me through about 3 months...and then the flood gates opened.
I had a huge falling out with my best friend of almost 15 years after having already been betrayed by another life-long friend the year prior.  I felt abandoned and angry...but did my best to start over and make new friends and meet other moms.  Then, my (a little while later) toddler son started biting his friends for no clear reason.  Shortly after that new phase, which cost us friends and much frustration, I experienced my first miscarriage.  One month later my husband had back surgery, then six months later more miscarriage, re-connect with estranged friends including the "BF", pregnant again...this one is sticking, THEN, the car accident which "totaled" our car but left us unscathed the same week my husband starts his new job...then, we (willingly and excitedly) relocated from a relatively vacuous suburb after having MADE all those new friends to a rural town in a new state where we don't know anybody and the night we arrive, my grandmother died.  Two months later I had a second home birth which yielded one new (happy and healthy) baby.  My husband still has that job that takes him away for as much as 5 days at a time.  There are a few other things in between in there, but you get the picture.

That is a lot of "life" for a 2-3 year period.  There are a lot of blessings on that list and even the less "pleasant" events brought great blessings with them...but the relentless wave of LIFE EXPERIENCE took it's toll. Some very high highs, and some very low lows...but it wasn't until the miscarriage that I really started to descend.  I mean, I cried almost every other night about the loss of my best friend, mostly an angry cry..but still...and all of that was going on post pardam...but that first pregnancy loss was devastating and it took me almost two years to feel the full reality of how deeply that effected me.  I am still coping with it really, and I may forever have the image of that still sonogram in my mind thanks to the a-hole of a OB...but while I have spiraled down through depression (undiagnosed...but lets be realistic here...)  and feeling as though my entire personality changed and wondering who I am and where I went...I am finally on the "upswing".

 I have found though, that the mirror gate works both ways.  We must pass back through it if we want to get to that next level; journey up the spiral and through that damn gate, and face our true selves and all of our flaws and all of our mistakes and see ourselves through Truthful eyes, but without judgment...to really look at ones self and see "self" as the sum of all.  This is not for the sake of blame or labels or even praise and identity...but for the sake of connection.  It is connection that I miss now, the feeling of knowing with all of my heart and soul that I am a part of a Whole; one with the Earth and all her creatures.  It's as if having someone die within my body tore a hole somewhere, and part of my spirit leaked out, draining me of my spark little by little.  I feel like at this point, I have found the hole and I am finally able to allow it to heal...but the real question is, how do I fill all that empty space left behind?  How long will that take?  

I made choices, a LOT of major choices while grieving, and I am still grieving.  The stars aligned for me to be right here, right now and striving to create this life that I have dreamed of for so long...for my children, for my husband, for me.  I have experienced the power of intention and am a big fan of using vision boards to help realize one's goals and dreams.  I had one that helped us make the move we wanted, however scary and massive it has been, and I intend to break out the thumb tacks again to start putting all of this pent-up anxiety and life energy to good use.      

I have tried to blog before.  My first one was supposed to be a mommy rant blog, then I started one about cleaning house, then I tried writing about making a Waldorf home in a modern age.  None of them really got "going".  I had these bursts of inspiration...and then not enough time to follow through on them...so part of this blog is my personal "home work"; a way for me to have an outlet and meditation.  I figure, I can write about all of those things...and more!  Fact is, I have a little to say about a lot of things...and I'm not an expert on any of them by any means...so there you go.  My goal is to keep things on the positive and focus my energy to create momentum within my life and perhaps, to inspire anyone who reads along.

I have read that the human body regenerates itself in seven year cycles.  I have read this in several different places and it was known through folk wisdom for years before the scientific testing to "prove" such a thing even existed, but it is true.  Maybe that is when I will feel "right" again.  

All of this has all left me in a sort of...flip floppy insanity. I spent so much time, focused on the move and making our relocation happen...finding a house, packing while pregnant...it was like carrying an enormous rucksack up a mountain...and when I finally got to the top, I was able to take it off...and all the exhaustion and remaining bottled up grief just rose up and knocked me over.

As for the title...I think it speaks for itself.  I was thinking about all of these survivalist and homesteading blogs I've been reading, and while they are chock-full of ideas and tips that are quite useful, I just can't see myself as a "survivalist".  That word conjurs up images of suffering and victimization...or just "getting by", none of which seem proactive or intentional enough for me in any positive way, so I decided that I am a "thrivalist"; one who aims to be nourished by life and turn anything and everything into an opportunity.  Then I "googled" the term and apparently I'm not the only one who has thought of this...but so what?
Clearly I have the ability to thrive, as do we all...because we are "...all a part of the never ending story".

Yesterday is over, today is what we have, tomorrow could bring anything...and so the story continues...