Shattering the Myth(s)

I still remember the day I realized, with finality, that Santa Claus wasn't real. I was standing on the back porch area of our house in Burlington, IL. I can still smell the hay-ish smell of the ropey, natural fibered rug/mat my parents had put on the floor back there. The room was essentially a closed-in porch and was always a bit colder than the rest of the house and always on a slope that made you feel off-kilter.

Anyway... there I was, standing around doing... something - and I looked down in the trash and saw the empty packaging for my Snoopy pencil sharpener lying in the trash. The pencil sharpener had been a stocking stuffer... and I was overjoyed and perhaps slightly self-righteously excited to finally have hard evidence there was indeed no such thing as Santa Claus, but rather two parents who were still keeping up the ruse for my younger brother (who still very firmly believed).

I think I confronted my mother, who acted surprised it had taken me so long to figure it out, and I agreed to keep quiet until Brent discovered the truth on his own or started asking questions about the veracity of our Christmas myth.

This story sticks out in my head because I feel it marked a major turning point for my relationship with Christmas. I think some of the nostalgia and fun and giddiness of the season was lost in that moment. The season became about something else, and perhaps also became something that could never quite live up to my childhood adoration and complete immersion in the magicalness of it all.

But it also meant that Christmas became about much more than "presents" and getting what I wanted. I felt greater responsibility for giving as well as receiving, and I felt a sense of power, love, and happiness to be able to be someone else's Santa... to be the one who created magic because I had found something that echoed my sentiments and said something more than ca-ching. Something more akin to, I love you * I know you * I care.

I sort of equate this with the attachments I hold now and the way in which my understanding of the world, my value and beliefs, my conception of truth, etc. are all changing as I continue to grow, evolve, and age each year.

It's interesting to be aware of what we hold onto and what we let go. To look at the lies we tell ourselves because they are easier to handle, and the truths we avoid because they are too painful to embrace.

Not every myth is dangerous - and there is something bittersweet in the loss of blissful ignorance that comes with letting go of some of our personal lore - but ultimately, I think I would rather strive to see things as they are... remembering perception is always a matter of choice and mythology is grounded at least somewhat in truth.