Say what you want about New Jersey. Something comes out of all those smokestacks that makes great blueberries. They're probably carcinogenic, but hey. They taste awesome.
I've had this habit of submitting the people I know to a little litmus test to see if they'd be amiable companions or not. It's a really simple test: Do you believe in Santa Claus, or some variant thereof?
Generally speaking, there's a small window of time in which people don't believe in Santa Claus (or some variant thereof, including faeries). That window usually opens around age 8 and ends at age 16. I call that era of life the "cynical time."
Some people never leave the "cynical time." They trust their own senses, they don't believe in any higher power, they think the human race is the be-all and end-all, and that be-all ain't a pretty picture.
Here in Chateau Annie, we subscribe to the wisdom of the late, great Robert Anton Wilson.
In his many books, Wilson said that if the human brain was a computer, it would have a great deal of unused space, just waiting to be filled with programs and data that would lead to enlightenment, especially extra-sensory perception. In other words, what we perceive with our five senses isn't necessarily all there is to perceive in the vast universe. And when more of us tap into our Sixth Sense, lying useless in most brains, we'll move up the ladder.
Spirit beings like Santa Claus, faeries, angels, gnomes, daemons, etc. lodge themselves in that part of the brain circuitry we haven't yet fully put into play. Ditto the bored gods and all other deities. You doubt there's a higher power out there? So that puts you at the top of the spiritual food chain? *shudder*
When someone tells me they think Santa Claus is some scam parents pull on their kids, I think to myself, "Pass on this person." Many, many adults believe in Santa Claus (or some variant thereof, including faeries).
I'm an adult, and I believe in all sorts of higher powers, including Santa Claus (or some variant thereof). Why? Because human beings can't possibly be the best sentient beings this universe has produced.
If humans are the penultimate of the universe, I'd like the Flying Spaghetti Monster to zap the entire concoction and start over. Perhaps adding more basil, thyme, and oregano.
THE MERLIN OF BERKELEY SPRINGS