Hi everyone
Something came to mind as I was reading everyone’s reflections — a memory from a podcast where a father described the moment he had to tell his daughter that Santa Claus wasn’t “real.” and the impact it had on this daughter relationship to wonder.

What struck me wasn’t the loss of Santa, but the subtle lesson underneath. Culturally, we tend to equate “real” with “objectively verifiable,” and everything else… wonder, imagination, meaning gets quietly downgraded to “just pretend.”

But the child’s experience of Santa was real: the wonder, the anticipation, the sense of mystery and generosity. Those are subjective realities, yet they shape us far more deeply than most objective facts ever do. When adults say, “Santa isn’t real,” without also acknowledging the reality of the inner experience, we unintentionally teach children (and ourselves) that the subjective world doesn’t count. We begging to wobble and not surprisingly seek certainty in our rules…

It made me think of our conversation about form and formlessness, certainty and doubt. When we privilege only the “objective,” we cling to form as if it were the whole truth. But Zen keeps pointing us back to the deeper field in which both the objective and subjective arise. The literal Santa may not exist, but the experience of wonder does. The form dissolves, but the formless quality it carried remains. If we allow it, and or are allowed it…

In that sense, the Santa moment is a small example of the same cognitive dissonance we meet in practice: the mind wants to know what is “really real,” while the heart knows that meaning, presence, and lived experience are not less real simply because they can’t be measured.

Maybe part of Zen is learning to honor both, the world of facts and the world of felt experience without collapsing one into the other. To see that the story may not be “true,” yet the truth within the story still moves us. And perhaps that’s another way of saying what we’ve been circling: form falls away, but the formless remains?

For anyone looking to restore some wonder and hope for humanity I invite you to view Itchy Boots latest Youtube video – KYRGYZSTAN S8, EP110. The last half took my breath away and I found myself happily laughing!

Dear Anita

There is a book from my childhood called Pookie and another called Pookie’s Christmas. The one about Christmas bridges the gap between belief in Santa & total annihilation of that belief. It is still in print & I share them with my grandchildren. The written word is under the right speech category in Buddhism. Is it timely, is it helpful etc. This is something to be mindful everyday in all our interactions with others. Often we get too swept up in our busyness to take heed of these things.
Kind regards
Roberta

Hi Everyone – more thoughts

Reading today’s CAC (Center for Action and Contemplation) meditation, perhaps in synchronicity, I was struck by how closely it echoes the themes we’ve been circling here: form and formlessness, objective and subjective knowing, the horizontal and vertical dimensions of experience – cross (How a Hermeticist might think of it).

The meditation points out that Genesis begins not with one creation story, but two, and they contradict each other. One is orderly, transcendent, structured; the other is earthy, improvisational, full of trial and error. One speaks in the language of cosmic form; the other in the language of human intimacy. Taken literally, they can’t both be “true.” But taken symbolically, they reveal something deeper: reality is not one-dimensional.

It reminded me of our conversation about how the mind wants certainty, a single right answer, a clean form to hold onto. Yet the spiritual traditions themselves often refuse to give us that. They offer multiple perspectives, sometimes conflicting, as if to train us to see beyond the literal. The “contradiction” becomes the teaching.

Zen does this too. A koan isn’t meant to resolve into one correct interpretation. It’s meant to open the vertical dimension, the formless ground beneath the forms. In that sense, Genesis 1 and Genesis 2 function almost like a biblical koan. They invite us to hold two truths at once: the transcendent and the immanent, the cosmic and the personal, the objective and the subjective.

Maybe that’s why the meditation says the Bible does us a favor by beginning with two stories. It signals from the start that spiritual truth isn’t a single line of logic but a tapestry of voices. And perhaps the same is true in our own lives: the story we present outwardly and the story we feel inwardly are not rivals but reflections. Together they point to something larger than either one alone. Both are needed if we hope to see the whole.

…..

Something I’m noticing in myself, especially in today’s (0 -1) digital world is how much of the wisdom traditions seem aimed at undoing this either/or way of thinking. So much of modern life trains us to choose: objective or subjective, form or formless, mind or heart. But the traditions keep pointing us toward the AND.

Which makes me wonder: what is it within us that resists the AND so strongly?

Maybe it’s because “AND” asks us to hold tension. It asks us to stand in a space where two truths coexist without collapsing one into the other. That’s uncomfortable for the part of us that wants clarity, safety, and control. The binary feels simpler. Cleaner. Less risky.

But the AND is where life actually happens… The AND is where paradox becomes insight… The AND is where form and formlessness meet.

Zen, the mystics, the hermeticists — they all seem to be training the mind to tolerate that space. To let the horizontal (the world of facts, roles, stories) and the vertical (the world of presence, meaning, depth) intersect without forcing them into a single dimension.

Maybe the resistance isn’t a flaw but a doorway. The moment we feel the urge to choose sides … objective or subjective, literal or symbolic is the moment the practice begins?

Dear Roberta:

Thank you for the message. I read that the original “Pookie” was published in 1946, a classic British children’s books (I don’t remember coming across as a child. I may have, there’s so much that I don’t remember).

Pookie is a tiny, lonely white rabbit who is different from all the others — he has little wings, but they are too weak for him to fly. Feeling sad and out of place, he leaves the forest to find somewhere he belongs. During a storm, he is discovered by a kind young girl named Belinda, who takes him home, dries him off, and gives him love and comfort. With Belinda’s care and encouragement, Pookie slowly gains confidence. His wings grow stronger, and eventually he learns to fly 🐰✨

The Christmas‑themed Pookie book is titled “Pookie Believes in Santa Claus”, published on January 1, 2000. Here, Pookie is a small white rabbit 🐰with wings, not a pig.

As Christmas approaches, Pookie becomes puzzled because some of his friends insist that Santa Claus is real, even though their presents always seem to come from family and neighbors. Curious and determined to discover the truth, Pookie decides to go see for himself if Santa exists.

Along the way, he learns that Santa does exist — as a spirit of generosity, kindness, and joy that lives in the world and in the hearts of people who care about the well-being of others.

Is this indeed the gist of the story, Roberta?

🤍 Anita

Hi Anita
Yes that little white rabbit touched my heart many years ago, the books had so much depth to them & the drawings are magical.

To add. Peter: I like your answer to the child in regard to Santa 🎅

Another thing, black and white, all or nothing binary thinking is just right for the understanding of simple, black and white situations.

It distorts the understanding of complex situations though, so context and nuance matter.

Roberta- I wonder 🤔 if my comment about little girl Roberta made you uncomfortable, like maybe it was too personal coming from a person you never met in real-life?

I would love feedback on that. From you too, Peter: do I come across too personal, too close at times, making you feel uncomfortable?

🤔 😳 Anita