Why Is It the Most Magical Time of the Year?
Ghosts, past lives, and problematic elves
In the days of yore, before central heating, snuggies, trendy IKEA sconces, and streaming services, people gathered around the fire on Christmas Eve and told ghost stories. (Source: History.com - just the Victorian England stuff. Not the snuggies.). Why ghost stories? I suppose because Christmas is deep into the dark season and horror is cathartic. Ghost stories rally us to face our fears. They give us an outlet to imagine and play out our anxieties. Also, the idea of ghosts is kind of…magical. And magic gives us hope. Hope that we’ll see loved ones again, or that there’s existence beyond life as we know it. Hope and fear go hand-in-hand, flip sides of a coin (Psychology Network).
From darkness, we get ghost stories on Christmas Eve. From Christmas comes other magic: Santa, elves, flying reindeer, angelic beings and past lives…
[^ Scene from the Christmas classic It’s a Wonderful Life. If you don’t know the movie, go watch it.] From magical movies to the proliferation of tinsel and twinkle lights, December has the power to stoke the embers of enchantment in the Grinchiest of souls.
This is the time of year when it’s socially acceptable to believe in and celebrate magic.
That said, there can be complications. There’s Magic, with a capital M, and then there’s magic. Capital M Magic comes from consensus, what the majority of people agree on. The problem is that we don’t all agree on what’s Magic and what’s make-believe. In fact, there’s very, very little capital M Magic in this day and age. But that’s where magic comes in. With magic, we don’t have to distinguish whether something is “real” or not. If it’s real for you, that’s all that matters, because magic is a vibe: something that sends shivers down to your toes. It comes from the heart, not the head. Magic vs. magic. Simple enough, right? Not if you have a young person in your life.
This month, I hit a snag.
My 5-year-old son got an Elf on the Shelf. He got it from his cousin (my nephew), who loves his Elves and believes that they’re real. My nephew named my son’s Elf “Cookies,” and then explained, in front of my son, that Cookies will start moving around the house and causing trouble when no one’s looking. My nephew comes over a lot, so I wanted to make him happy and play along. (Please, spirits of Christmas, don’t let him find this article.) After a few days of Cookies moving around the house, my son was fully bought in and I was fully uncomfortable. Where’s the harm, you ask?
I’m a bit unorthodox.
I’m Jewish, but I hardcore celebrate Christmas. I put up a super decorated tree and start shopping and listening to holiday music in the fall, but I don’t pretend at Santa. I’m slightly pagan, a New Age hipster, and probably what people would call a Green Witch. I “worship” nature and believe in (and commune with) faeries. I can sense things most people have tuned out, or forgotten how to notice. I’m always conscious of magic, though there aren’t tools to measure or hard facts to popularize what I experience and canonize it as Magic with a capital M. I share my insights with my son, talking about faeries etc. as Magic with a capital M, because that’s what I know to be real.
And that’s why I don’t like Cookies the Elf. Not because I think it’s harmful to pretend—I think the Elves are fun, and the Santa myth is absolutely beautiful. But since there’s already so much that I experience that isn’t mainstream, it’s important that my son know the difference between what I feel is real and what I perpetuate as make-believe. And here we were, with a freaking elf doll moving around our house, charming the heck out of my son.
I had to come clean.
As I did with Santa when my son was three, I explained that Cookies can feel like magic, can even be magic, but he’s not Magic with a capital M. He’s not “real.” (And don’t worry, he’s very, very good about not sharing these thoughts with other kids.) My son was sad for a few moments. I felt terrible. And then he surprised me by saying, “Phew, Mama, I’m relieved.” I asked him why and he answered, “Because now I don’t have to be worried about Cookies seeing my private parts when I change.”
We agreed that I’d still hide Cookies, and we could have fun playing make-believe. He even joined in the game, making his own characters out of foam paper that he started hiding around the house for me to find. Everything was swell and adorable until the other day, when he surprised me again, by saying, “Mama I actually wish you had lied to me about Cookies. He was more fun when he was real.”
Was it really my place to teach a young person the difference between Magic and magic? After all, even my Magic is subjective. I think what it comes down to is faith. I believe that my son will find his own way with magic, despite any mistakes I make. And maybe we don’t have to be on the exact same page. We probably won’t be, in fact. The thing with magic, capitalized or italicized, is that we shouldn’t get in the way of how people feel it and find it (barring safety concerns. But it’s my belief that all forms of magic are about joy and connectedness, and this should never involve harm).
If you celebrate this time of year, however you celebrate, may you connect with the Magic or magic that fulfills you.
