On 2006-02-18 08:13:00, Anonymous wrote:
"If all its about is the point and message, why do people squable about who mary got fucked by, this guy named jesus and all the other details which can't possibly be correct (ever played telephone at a party?).
Because they miss the point.
It's like when I want you to explain something to a kid, parents use fairy tales because they aren't mature enough to teach them in a reality based way, I get that. I don't fault kids for believing in religion, they believe in santa clause and the easter bunny. Im just curious how adults can swallow this stuff?"
I loved telling my little ones fairy tales! I never, ever lied to them, though; not really. It was more like impromptu theatre with
voluntarily suspended disbelief. And it was all precious to all players. One time, my daughter, who couldn't have been more than 5 at the time, picked up a dried stem from underneath the palmetto colony and asked me what it was. Not that she didn't know, she certainly did. But little kids love stories and gentle interrogation. And she was, and remains so far anyway, that "person small who keeps ten million serving men who get no rest at all!"
So I told her it was a walking cane which must have been dropped in haste by a gnome as he fled a cat or the trash men or maybe her own dear mother (I) who was fond of walking that area of the yard and gazing into the night sometimes. We discussed the matter of gnomes for a bit and how impressively well they craft their personal tools and effects to blend perfectly w/ their natural environment and how they go about keeping vigil on all the good people and creatures and their favorite plants. She thought the gnome might miss his cane and she wanted very much to catch a glimpse of this being. So we wrote a note asking for a meeting and left it with his cane out on the picnic table near where we had found it.
Next day, the cane was still there, but there was a note on the back of the note we had left. It said something to the effect that the owner of that finely crafted accessory had been very moved by her sweet note and pure intention, that he would like very much to sit on her shoulder and have a good long conversation, but that the council strictly forbade any intentional contact between the little folk and regular humans. And he told her to keep the cane as a keepsake and know that she'd always have a friend.
This went on for a number of months with the occasional note going back and forth.
Clever girl that she is, naturally she tried her hand at the same sort of theatre herself. One day, she's sitting on the hand rail at the post office, bored, waiting in line with me. All of a sudden, she looks me dead in the eye (the left one) and asks me "Mommy, is it true that I'm not really your baby, that you stole me from my real parents?" THAT raised some eyebrows, and made me smile. "Yes!" I said, "And you have
no idea how long and hard your daddy and I looked to find a kid who looked so much like both of us."
We still hear from Grafnal once in awhile.
Understand that legal and illegal are political, and often arbitrary,
categorizations; use and abuse are medical, or clinical, distinctions.
--Abbie Hoffman