I just pulled a small stack of very old and worn books from the bookshelf. Pinocchio, The Story of Babar, Doctor Dan the Bandage Man and three Uncle Wiggly books. All of them have evidence heavy use and repeated readings. All of them are more than sixty years old. As I open them and scan the aging pages, I am aware how deeply my heart is embedded between those soiled covers.
The resonance I feel reminds me that I still have roots in those simple stories. The tales come back to me without my even looking at the words. I remember the experience of reading them a long time ago. Even though I have moved far from the fables in those books, their effect still lingers.
My attention to the actives of Pinocchio, Babar and Uncle Wiggly were eventually replaced by the fables of my many involvements in religion. The stories coming out of my religious culture slowly shaped my view of the world for many years. The stories nourished me, guided me, helped me see beyond my ordinary experience. I don’t see them as wrong or misleading. But I do know that their time and usefulness has passed.
Fables have a use and benefit, but there comes a time to put them aside. I have gradually been moving into a world where reality is best known through direct experience. The unseen world is best left alone, not explained, and accepted for what it is. It is better for me not to try to populate my world with imaginary beings that live between the old, worn pages of fables.
I talked with a friend this past weekend about atheism and whether it makes sense. For me, it is not even a relevant issue, not worth worrying about. What is evidenced to me is what I know. All else, everything beyond my experience, exists only in the world of fables. Does God exist? Yes, in the world of fables.
All around me I watch adults caught up in the fables of their youth, still playing the games taught them by imaginative elders. I don’t particularly feel critical of them. I just wish they could take their rightful, mature place in the world. I wish their eyes could truly see the reality surrounding them without the distorting veneer of an imagined world.
I think many who choose to live in fable-land are leading good lives. I think that the stories provide reasonable road maps for being socially and morally connected. The fables teach many how to stay on the desired path, how to reach a desired outcome, how to find a place to belong. Many have followed these lines on the map.
I’ve chosen a different way and discovered that there is much more not included on those road maps. The old fables tell me little of the wild wonders of wandering off the path, outside the story-line. It is becoming apparent to me that I have not rejected the fables of religion, but I have simply left them behind. I’ve chosen to put them back on the bookshelf, with all the other rich and insightful texts that have populated my life. And I still have roots in them.
There is another rich and exciting story out there, waiting to unfold. I know it will be mine alone, none other like it. There really is no accurate road map. I love the excitement of stepping off the road into that rich and inviting void.
Time to turn the page again.