Just the other day I was sitting with some friends talking about this and that, and we got on to the subject of holidays, different ones for different cultures, their meaning and so.
Thanksgiving came up. Now since I am not from the US, I know less about this holiday than some of the others.
Birte: Tell me about this holiday. How do you celebrate?
This is a very interesting statement. Take a moment and think …
There are two basic thoughts here to consider. I will begin with the last … to be right. In most of what we do, think, believe the undertone is: this is right, I am right. It’s the assumption that if I am right, then everyone else must also see that it is right.
Now for the first … to believe. What is a belief? Is it a thought with feelings that we have adopted as true. The background for that belief may lie in our childhood, something we read or heard, an experience. Since most of us come from different backgrounds with different experiences, how can we tell if a belief is right or wrong?
So our life, our experiences create our beliefs. A belief is a thought, or series of thoughts, with emotion attached. That is why so many people become agitated, even very agitated, when someone else tries to tamper with their beliefs. There are so many emotions attached to the belief.
When someone does try to tamper with a belief, they are then also tampering with our emotions. That’s why so many people have difficulty in changing habits, as habits are based on a belief. We would rather be right than have someone point out something regarding our emotions. Most people are not even in control of their emotions.
Back to being right. So no matter what you believe, you are right. You may believe that a tomato is green (and of course unripe tomatoes are green), and so it will be if you are colorblind. There was a time when all believed that the world is flat, until Columbus proved otherwise. And even after that many continued to believe that the world is flat.
So two things lie behind a belief – thought and emotion. Which is more important? The thought or the emotion? We have many thoughts during the day, some say something like 65.000. Do all these thoughts become beliefs? Of course not. It’s the emotion we attach to a thought that makes it a belief.
Now since it’s the emotion that makes a thought into a belief, obviously we cannot change a belief unless we first change the emotion attached to it. How do we do that? By choosing to feel differently. So what we believe comes down to what we feel, and what we feel comes down to choice.
Now it’s up to you to believe this or not. Whatever the case, you are right.
How do you feel about this? Leave me a comment in the Leave a Comment just below. Your input is important to me.
Beliefs are the determinants of what one experiences. There are no external ’causes’. David Hawkins, internationally renowned psychiatrist, physician, researcher
It was very late afternoon when I noticed him, through the hospital window. I have always loved the sunset hour – the colors and the quiet it brings.
I was tired of reading, of doing cross word puzzles, and generally passing time. I also had much to think about. I was really not happy with what I was told by the doctors, but I knew I had no one to blame but myself.
So there I was, sitting in my armchair looking out at the setting sun, at the roof tops of the hospital buildings towards the almost complete new cardio-vascular unit. Pink stones with lines of white stone. I had noticed a lot of activity on the roof over the days, but not paid much attention to it.
That’s when I saw him – the stone mason, on a scaffold next to a patch not yet covered with stone. He was close enough that I could see he was working on closing the patch, but far enough that I could not see every detail of his work. He must have been working there for some time, because the patch was smaller than I could remember.
He was in the process of putting the finishing touches before the actual gluing, and finally the stone was in place. It was clearly loved work. He adjusted it here, patted it there, very slowly, very lovingly, a real craftsman. It was beautiful to watch.
The sun was now bright red and only a few centimeters above the horizon. It would soon be dark. There was still a patch to be covered with stone.
Tomorrow, I said to myself, he will finish the job. The cell phone rang. It was my son asking if I was in the mood for his visit. Always, I said. At that moment that I realized that the stone mason was continuing in order to close the patch. In my mind began a race between the coming darkness, the stone mason and my son.
With slow, deliberate movements he began preparing the patch and the stone, measuring, marking, cutting, patting the wall, touching as if to listen to the space. It seemed almost painfully slow. The sun had gone down in a fiery ball just a few blocks to the right, and the light was fading fast.
How can he see what he is doing? I thought to myself. Surely he has to stop for today! I felt glued to the window, not turning on the light, even though the dark hard almost completely taken over the room.
And still he kept working, measuring, drilling holes, touching, measuring, cutting. I could see sparks flying, as metal touched stone.
I really had to strain my eyes to see what he was doing. Why doesn’t he do it tomorrow? I thought, with better light.
The sky was now very dark with streak of the last lingering red behind the mason.
Every 3 minute or so planes were landing or taking off at the airport, so close that I could see the control tower in the opposite direction of the worker. Behind him I could see the lights of cars on one of the busiest highways running through the country. Rush hour.
Once again I strained my eyes to let in as much light as possible. He finally picked up the stone and pressed in into place, patting, adjusting, touching lovingly. And then I saw it – there was still yet one small patch to be filled. Was he going to do that as well? What’s the hurry? There’s another day tomorrow!
Finally, through the dark I could see him packing up.
In my mind the darkness had won, but of course that was only my perception. Maybe he had actually achieved what he had set out to do?
One thing was for sure: in my imaginary race – there was no winner or loser. There could only be a race if the three had agreed.
And then a thought occurred: this is the reality of life, but whose? Mine – watching a race from a hospital window, a race that only happened in my mind? The worker – who had the time of the world to finish a job? The people rushing home after a days work at snails pace on the highway? The passengers in the planes, or even the stewards, the pilots or the ground crew? What about the people in the neighborhoods around? My son, struggling through the traffic and finding a parking place, to visit his mother in hospital?
I surely would love to hear what others think about this, and their reality.
Help me by leaving your comments in the Leave a Comment.
