Make Believe

I was driving the other day, and something came on the radio talking about "make believe." It's been a while since I used that term, and even longer since I really thought about it. Contextually, it's typically used as a synonym for 'fantasy,' as in "the land of make believe," where our weirdest and wackiest dreams seem to come to life. But when I thought about it more, it changed meanings right before my eyes.

I assumed that the term was reserved for all that we *pretended* to be real could take shape in our imaginations. But upon closer inspection, and perhaps too literal a translation, the term simply means: "to suspend one's disbelief, and assume that subject to be true, and accurate."

Here are some definitions for "believe" from dictionary.com:

–verb (used without object)

1.	to have confidence in the truth, the existence, or the reliability of something, although without absolute proof that one is right in doing so: Only if one believes in something can one act purposefully.

–verb (used with object)

2.	to have confidence or faith in the truth of (a positive assertion, story, etc.); give credence to.

3.	to have confidence in the assertions of (a person).

4.	to have a conviction that (a person or thing) is, has been, or will be engaged in a given action or involved in a given situation: The fugitive is believed to be headed for the Mexican border.

5.	to suppose or assume; understand (usually fol. by a noun clause): I believe that he has left town.

—Verb phrase

6.	believe in, a. to be persuaded of the truth or existence of: to believe in Zoroastrianism; to believe in ghosts. b. to have faith in the reliability, honesty, benevolence, etc., of: I can help only if you believe in me.

In the past, I think I reserved the term "make believe" for things like snow fairies and woodland gnomes (not to be confused with tooth fairies, and garden gnomes), but I see it differently now. "Make believe" isn't just about wee creatures that we dream up in our childhood. We tell stories to work out whatever is unresolved in our lives in order to find consolation and resolution. As kids, maybe this takes shape in the form of Tinkerbells and hoot-in-nanny. But as adults, we use our stories to reinforce whatever linear narrative best suits our needs.

This past spring I became mildly obsessed with the collection of 80 essays from the NPR series called, This I Believe, (which was a reprise of the Edward R. Murrow series from 1952). It was pure genius to read the edited collection of dozens and dozens of beliefs held by famous authors, people of historical note, and even regular Joe's like me. I was captivated by the offerings of every single individual, and mesmerized by the vast differences in approach, tenor, and resounding foundations of each entry. There were some that provoked me into a new perspective on life, while others left me reading faster to get to the next chapter already. But each of these scribes left an indelible mark on me, ones on which I am reflecting now.

To ask me, "What do you believe?" it may take a while to formulate my response. While thinking of "make believe," I'd probably laugh away at my silly antics as a child, believing in Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny, and boogie men under my bed. I was "made to believe" these things existed through the stories shared with me repeatedly over time. So, in short: this world of "make believe" is actually more confined to not only the details we can concoct from our multi-faceted minds, but of those details conjured up, the ones that convince us that they are plausible options to consider. There is an "assumability quotient" implied when talking about "make believe." How much evidence is required for us to assume the validity of the story spun out for us?

It was easy for me to believe in Santa Claus as a child because everywhere I looked in the many Decembers of my life were images of Santa plastered on every available surface. And my parents took painstaking efforts to confirm that he visited our living room every year by stomping out oversized footprints in soot on our antique oriental rug leading from our fireplace over to our Christmas tree, and the mammoth sized bite marks left in the carrots I'd left out for the reindeer. Yes, I was a sucker, but I prefer to see it more as a cultish brainwashing when my parents went so far to convince me since birth.

This is just what I mean: "Make believe" isn't so much about blind faith, but about the fragments of evidence we choose to acknowledge as sufficient. I could believe in Santa as a gift giving fat dude, who sloppily left footprints around my own personal living room because I saw it to be true. That seemed more realistic than believing that Jesus died for my sins, since I never met the guy, and it happened before I was even born. Why would he care about me?

As a child, asking relevant questions in my catechism class got me labeled as a heathen, and disruptor. (One example: I asked what the "H" in "Jesus H Christ" stood for, and Mother Superior was not amused. In my defense, I remember seeing Roman numerals on the crucifix at church, and wrongly assumed them to be Jesus's initial, as if the Romans monogrammed his cross before his ritualistic sacrifice, like it was a robe from L.L. Bean. I was seven! I thought it stood for like Henry, or Herbert, or something...)

My parents could *make me believe* in Santa because of their earnest and noteworthy efforts, while the Catholic Church was somewhat lacking in its command of corroborating evidence to plant the Jesus seed in my malleable little mind. Now that I think of it, if the church employed trial lawyers or politicians, maybe we'd all be buying more of what they are trying to sell. (Or they should hire my parents, who could muster up some modern day miracles and turn us all into believers!)

This all comes to mind now because I think part of being a worthy candidate in matters of love and romance implies that we can make people believe... Perhaps the most lovable person is simply the one who can make us believe in the things that we so desperately needed to be true. Things ranging from believing that we are in fact lovable, that we will find one person who promises to take care of us even at our most challenging times, one who will never stray despite a love that may wax and wane over a lifetime, and so on.

Maybe that is the reason it is considered "true love," because they make us believe in those formerly unfathomable, unattainable beliefs. They make us want to believe in the truth of love. And why we say someone is "the man/woman of my dreams" – because we can only dream of something so good and pure, when the reality is often fraught with struggles and defenses. How deflated do we feel when we think we may have found *the one,* to then only be let down when we find out that they are not as idealized as we had hoped? And how quick are we to be excited once again when the next candidate comes around, even more polished than the last? We want to believe, we yearn to believe it is possible to find that kind of true love.

Observing those who have found it simultaneously grants us faith that we may find our own versions of our perfect other half, and for those of us who haven't yet found her or him, bums us out that it is taking so damn long! But it never quells our drive, our pursuit, even when we may be too scared to actively admit we are still looking for that partner.

(Like me for instance, writing every spare moment I get, leaving me hermetic and solitary, ticking away at my laptop at home for hours a day. After signing up for an online dating account, I shied away, not knowing how to navigate that world as a transman now. Despite not getting myself out into the real world enough, and being a little intimidated by the virtual world, I still somehow – perhaps foolishly – believe that I will find my other half. Maybe I have already met her, or maybe it is this writing in my remote corner of the world that will introduce myself to her, or him... But I still believe, even if on the surface it may look like I have stalled in defeat. I still believe...)

So, to summarize: being the best spouse or lover means being part salesman, part defense attorney, part story teller, and part young at heart to imagine that despite all of the lifetime of evidence stating otherwise – we can still believe in love. That someone else can *make us believe* in love, in them, and their love for us. To me – that is the true definition of "make believe."