The Fantasy of Religion

I walk through my house after a productive long weekend. Productive for me, as I had to sit in front of my computer glued to my screen to work for the full three days. I was the mom that did not spend time with my kids this time, that left them to roam and stay out of her way. But after seeing the proof of all their play efforts, I am starting to wonder who was most productive after all…

My husband and I often have this discussion about our kids not doing a million extra-murals and enrichment programmes. It just gets too expensive. But we give them room to play, so they have freedom to explore within our home. After this weekend as I walk through my house, their industry becomes obvious. Upstairs in my treatment room, you will see the largest pirate ship ever, build out of my therapy blocks, with paper sails stuck on to them with sticky tape. We have a deck, a plank, an anchor and a helm.

Downstairs are the remains of a similar ship, built out of all our couches and chairs and any pillow that they could get hold of. There also lies the remains of a puppet show and a music rendition and the crumbs of a picnic thrown into the mix.

In the kitchen area we have a village of paper and Lego ships, roads and towns. A pirate village if you please. Throw in a few castles to really give it a medieval flair.

I remember hearing the ‘Ay captains’, ‘kill the kraken’ and ‘you scallywags’ floating up to me from various areas of the house, interrupting my train of (which I thought was very important) thought.

Outside on the compost heap, that we still need to work into the garden, they have built something for God and for Jesus. Their own Mount Ararat. An altar for their beliefs. Maybe a home coming as they set foot on solid ground again.

So, pirates with a pinch of God was the flavour of their weekend. And the two are actually not that far removed.

What are they cultivating through their fantasy play? Not their math skills or their reading (although you could argue that play contributes to it). No- they are cultivating something more sensitive and precious. They are cultivating the CAPACITY to believe.

As a child my days were filled with fantasy. I remember waking up one day to see a little box with stars in it, perched on the edge of my bed. A little wooden box with paper stars. So insignificant- but for me that became the turning point where the line between possible and impossible became blurred. My mother told me the fairies left that for me, and I believed her. She put us to bed at night with shadow puppet shows and allowed us to wear dress – up fantasy clothes the whole day long. I went to the shops as a ballerina with a tutu and ballet shoes, my sister was usually a giraffe, and my brother ‘Brakenjan’, with my mother’s boots reaching up to his hips.

The experts say we parent as we were parented, but I value fantasy intentionally even more than that. Maybe that is why I am so drawn to Jungian psychology and the interpretation of our sub-conscious through our dreams. In my own life, I went through a very religious phase where I rejected all fantasy and as a result my belief dried up. After meeting wonderful friends who absolutely love fantasy, I regained my belief through- you won’t believe me- the Harry Potter books.

Because what is fantasy, other than the freedom to believe? What is faith, other than make-belief becoming real? What is religion, other than the impossible becoming possible? God is the impossible possibility after all.

If I can believe in being transported into another parallel world, I can believe in the spiritual, in whatever form is comfortable for me. If I can believe in the greater good that overcomes evil, I can believe in God and His love for our world.

When I went to England after my community service year to work, I took a trip on the river Thames. If you drop a penny into the river, you are able to make a wish. I dropped my penny and made my wish- ‘I wish my life would be magical’. Young and starry-eyed, I think my idea of magical then was very far removed from my idea now as an almost 40-year middle-aged adult.

I have learnt that the magic is in the little things. In seeing my kids after a long day of work, in hearing their laughter. In seeing the potential in a child. In believing in a child although everyone has given up on them. In making it possible for someone to communicate for the first time in their life. In giving them a voice. In seeing a child starting to believe in themselves. In seeing them believe… That is where my magic lies, that is part of my belief.

I believe in every child and family I meet. I believe in my kids- that they maybe won’t be geniuses or achievers, but that they will have the space in their minds and hearts to believe. I trust that they will believe in the greater good, in hope, in the impossible. I pray that they will believe in kindness and love.

For now, they are pirates embarking on an arduous journey, wrought with dangers, but with treasures along the way. For now, they are embarking on life.