— Zac Chase (@MrChase) February 9, 2016
I believe in Santa.
That may be weird to say, but I mean it with 100% sincerity. I believe in the strange ritual of the chimney and the cookies and the presents. I do not believe it because there is proof of his existence. In fact, as I have purchased a great many Santa gift and placed them under the tree myself, I know this cannot be. And yet, what I see in my children as they open up their doors to find their Santa pajamas hanging from their bedroom doorknobs cannot be described by anything else but Magic.
It is a wonder in their eyes at something that cannot possibly be, but somehow exists anyway. It is a truth that builds upon nothing but itself, a circular logic that you don’t mind wearing around for a while.
I believe that science and inquiry can explain away every bit of magic that we can conjure. It dispels falsehood and superstition, laying to rest any doubt within ourselves. And the farther that we inquire, the less room there is for Magic. And that is why Santa is so important. It is the rejection of the rational and the embrace of the sentimental that allows for us to build our own myths and traditions. When we banish logic for a few short hours, we become like our own children. We see things as they do, in a brand new context, thinking that anything is possible. Because for those moments, it is.
It is precisely because we can’t live within the magic forever that makes it all the more special. Because we must come back to the understanding of real-world sled physics and American materialism, we can continue to embrace a Magical Santa for a few short hours while presents are being opened. Because there are no flying reindeer in the real world makes us banish those thoughts as we hear things that could qualify as hooves on the rooftop.
Magic is the moment before you know what really happened. It is the breath that you catch before exclaiming “Aha”. It is the difference between innocence and ignorance.
Magic is believing in Santa as a father of three when you didn’t grow up with him as a reality in a single Christmas of your own childhood.