Belief

I sat down to write what "I believe," but not one concrete, irrefutable belief rose to the surface of my mind.  They've been sat on, shot at, sliced and diced so much over theyears that they no longer float.  Besides, what earthly good are those beat-up, vaporous commodities I call "my beliefs?" What positive result could come from my crowing about them?

We use the words "I believe" so often as clubs…weapons… They are the yardsticks by which I measure my own worth, and build myself up to lofty heights; and by which I measure your worth, too, and find you wanting. You don’t believe exactly as I do? Your unbelief threatens and mocks my belief. I cannot know you. I cannot abide you. We are enemies.

Beliefs are not forever. The grit of the passing years changes them, refines them, erodes them. The explosion of a new political reality obliterates some, spawns others. The chafing of people closest to my heart, building and embellishing their own beliefs, reshapes or erases beliefs I thought etched on my very bones. Not an easy transformation. It hurts. Yet, if we don’t submit to that molding and changing, we turn to stone. Dead, impenetrable, cold, immovable stone.

What do I believe? I believe that rather than piling up and polishing my own beliefs, my time is better spent researching and admiring yours.