04/30/24
I don’t know how I managed to convince myself that fairies are real but somehow I convinced myself that fairies are real.
When I was younger, I considered myself a dreamer. I prided myself on my fanciful perspective and whimsy. My emotions led me, and I believed that made me strong. (Not that logic can’t also make someone strong; it was simply strong in a different way.)
As I grew up, I became more and more misanthropic. I advanced in intellect and academia —albeit in an amateur manner— squashing every ounce of idealism and childlike vivacity. I no longer saw emotions as my compass needle, but as annoying bugs swarming around my mind. If I were to find truth, I’d have to divorce myself from subjectivity (emotion) and move to objectivity (reason). If I broke everything down with reason, I’d be able to make sense of this world. Everything was definable; taxonomy would save me.
Looking back, that perspective was fanciful in itself. I never stopped being a dreamer; I just became a cynical dreamer.
About a year and a half ago, I had a minor crisis while looking up at the night sky. While observing the stars above, in a horrific bout of self-awareness, I whispered to myself: ‘I don’t believe in monsters.’
Long before my time, there might’ve been people standing underneath the same starry sky, but they did not see just stars. They saw more. I imagined an ancient people group gathered around a fire, telling tales of the rainbow crow, who brought them the very fire they huddled behind. I pictured children wide-eyed, listening to tales of the wendigo, fearful of every bump in the night that might be a monster. People who genuinely believed in spirits and fantastical creatures, who saw mysticism behind every tree. And I didn’t see that. It was an empty feeling. I couldn’t separate myself from naturalism; I only saw stars even if I wanted to see magic.
I decided at that moment that I wanted to believe in magic. I wanted to be entranced by mythology and believe in monsters. I cannot express in words how vain the ontological naturalism perspective became in that moment. In an attempt to bring order, I lost all wonder. It drained my life of all spectacle. My existence was dulled by the lack of adventure that I replaced with meticulous devotion to rational thought. (Rational thought isn’t bad in itself. But it needs balance. Order your chaos and chaos your order.)
While I was wrestling with how empty a life without real mythology, I came across an expert from J.R.R. Tolkien on the existence of fairies from the book, ‘Tolkien on Fairy Stories’.1 While the passage was ripped out of context (I haven’t read the book outside of this passage), it shook my paradigm. The quote was about the stipulations needed for fairies to exist.
“If Fairies really exist—independently of Men—then very few of our 'Fairy-stories' have any relation to them…”
- Excerpt from Tolkien on Fairy Tales
I never considered it before, that little word with big implications: if. If fairies exist… The possibility. The chance. If magic is real and fairies really exist… then what does that mean for me?
I made the conscious choice to believe in fairies. My options were to continue through the slog of a colourless life, or believe in something ultimately harmless. It makes no difference for me to believe in fairies, considering I know better than to poke my nose in fairy business. (I’ve heard fairy stories before, and I know the consequences for messing with their world.) All I had to do was insert a little whimsy into my mundane existence, the chance of magic to keep hope in something more than the material world.
This was the path to deconstructing naturalistic beliefs in my life. Primarily within my theological understanding. ‘If’ is a powerful word. It draws us close to divinity.
If Jesus is the Son of God... If there is hope in this dismal world… If there will be a resurrection... If life is more magical than we know…
What wondrous mysteries to ponder! All starting with a mystic looking for magic within the mundane. Because what if God is nearer than we assume?
Naturalism doesn't ask ‘if’ questions. Naturalism looks at the surface and accepts it as it is. It doesn’t believe in monsters or look for magic in a starry night. ‘Why would you ask ‘if’ God came down to be with man?’ Naturalism scoffs, ‘Point me to a God I can see and touch, then I will worship.’
When you don’t dare to ask ‘if’, you walk past Jesus and only see the surface of man, missing the divine spirit within.
The fact of the matter is that people who ask questions find truth. Therefore, if fairies are real, what does that mean for you?
‘Tolkien on Fairy Stories’, ed. Flieger, Verlyn. UK General Books, 2008.
Wow. What a perspective. What if ...? That can get the imagination going for a long time 😉