Fairies, Bunnies, and a Jolly Fat Man
by Melody Tan | 12 December 2024 |
Growing up, Enid Blyton was my favorite author. The Faraway Tree series will forever hold a special place in my heart. I loved good-natured Moon-Face, sweet Silky, and even silly old Saucepan Man.
I dreamed of being the children’s cousin, entering the Enchanted Forest with its trees that say wisha-wisha-wisha, climbing the Magic Faraway Tree, visiting their friends who live in the tree, and popping in to explore the many different worlds at the top of the tree.
The magical qualities in Enid Blyton’s books created a sense of wonder and fueled my imagination. It was heartwarming, fun-filled, and a place to escape to from the ordinariness or even sadness of everyday life. Authors like Enid Blyton and later, Terry Pratchett, and fantastical stories including the Greek myths and the many variations of the King Arthur legends helped me think creatively and inspired my world.
Then I became Seventh-day Adventist. I was told about the dangerous link between fiction, fantasy, and the occult. I was expected to shy away from these things because of their pagan affiliations. The argument goes that there’s no such thing as harmless magic as those are simply gateways to the more nefarious practices that will ultimately make us lose sight of Jesus.
The thing that lit my soul grew dim—and dare I say, a little boring. It isn’t so much that normal life has no excitement, but also, it isn’t so much that I believed elves, pixies and magic truly existed either. I saw these things for what they were: A figment of our imagination or a cleverly executed illusion. But they were a vital part of the stories that stirred my soul and gave me a sense of wonder.
As we head towards Christmas, I find myself reflecting more on the attitude I’ve been led to possess towards magic and fiction. There is a natural sense of magic and wonder when it comes to Christmas. However, I have been told we shouldn’t celebrate Christmas and Easter because of their pagan associations.
(Christmas is more controversial in that it’s not even the actual date Jesus was born).
Why can’t we experience the beauty and joy of our imagination, the thrill of witnessing something we can’t explain—realizing they are made up and that there isn’t a perfectly logical explanation behind it? Why can’t we know something isn’t real, but enjoy it at the same time?
Those who have been around children will have probably witnessed the look on their faces when they discover something new for the first time or when they are awed by something. Their eyes light up and grow large, while their mouth involuntarily forms an open-mouthed smile. It’s a joy to behold.
We lose that sense of open wonder as we grow older, not only because we start developing inhibitions but also because we’ve “seen it all”. But think back to the time when you were last amazed by something and how it made you feel. It’s a beautiful thing to experience and while not exclusively, it’s something magic and fiction can also deliver. (I’m not advocating for someone to permanently live in a fantasy made-up world. That is not healthy as we need to continue to function in the real world.)
My son has an extremely rational and logical mind. He thinks deeply about matters and is very quick to spot inconsistences. Yet, he is still a child and I don’t want him to lose his sense of wonder so quickly. I also don’t want him to grow up not knowing what the rest of the world believes or experiences. So I give him his moment of awe. I encourage him to absorb the wonder. He’s going to grow up all too quickly anyway.
For now, how can I not celebrate the loss of a tooth with a gesture that creates a sense of mystery? How can I deny the excitement he gets from running around the garden hunting for chocolate eggs? How can I rob my son of the wonder that perhaps something magical has happened which resulted in presents appearing at the foot of his bed on Christmas morning?
Then, I wait for the questions:
“Does the tooth fairy really need that many teeth? Aren’t they a bit gross?”
“Why do bunnies deliver chocolate eggs? They don’t lay eggs and they don’t eat chocolate.”
“How can Santa deliver presents to all the children in all the world in just one night?”
Also, whenever he watches a magic trick, he wants to know how it’s been done.
These questions are opportunities to talk about different beliefs, as well as misdirection and sleight-of-hand techniques, while acknowledging what we enjoyed about the experience. If relevant, we’ll also talk about what may be harmful, what we need to watch out for, or even, whether we should avoid something altogether. But we persist in creating wonder, allowing for fantasy because of the joy it brings.
It’s also not true that magic and fiction draws us away from God. I won’t go into how Jesus Himself used stories and created wonder, because that is God Himself speaking and nobody can ever find fault with that.
Instead, I’ll talk about how C S Lewis’s Narnia series has had an incredible impact on my spirituality. We are currently reading the series together as a family and the scene where Aslan gave up his life for Edward’s had me in so many tears I had to take a pause from reading (as it also happened when I first read it by myself). I’m loathing getting to The Last Battle because I know I would be a ball of emotions again.
For all his logical mind, my son enjoys the stories in the Narnia series. Like me, he doesn’t believe they’re real—that they’re “just stories”—but he loves the characters, the magical world of Narnia and the story arcs. We also have wonderful discussions about morals, ethics, and spirituality because of it.
For that’s the beauty of magic and fiction. It gives us the space to explore ideas in a fun and unique way, and it makes us contemplate and creates conversations to help us understand ourselves and others better.
Melody Tan is a freelance writer, content creator, and editor for both print and digital. She is currently the project leader of Mums At The Table, a multimedia initiative aimed at supporting mothers in their parenting journey, through education and community. She and her husband live in Sydney, Australia, with their son.
