I wrap my head in tin foil whenever I have thoughts about the government… even though I know that they probably can’t really read my thoughts.
World peace.
I kinda sorta believe in irony. Like if I were the type to play lotto, I would have to play every day or the day I didn’t my numbers would come up. Or if my husband was a cop I’d never want him to talk about his upcoming retirement. It’s like a jinx, but I know it’s not really real. Maybe.
This describes me very well.
I also throw salt over my shoulder, kind of believe in ghosts (despite knowing that I probably shouldn’t) and believe that you can know someone well enough to have intuitive ties to them and know things about them that you otherwise wouldn’t.
I really want to believe in a god or some sort of force that watches over us, but I just can’t. In some sense, I wish that my kids would have the comfort of believing in God like I did when I was younger, but honesty with my kids is very important to me and I don’t think that I could in good conscience encourage them to believe something like that. It’s really too bad. I was raised in a multi-faith household where hell just wasn’t a consideration - for anyone. As far as religion went, what I was raised on was very benevolent. But the best I can do for my kids when they’re older and start asking questions is say, “I really don’t know. Everyone has different ideas of what’s right and you have to decide what’s right for you. This is what I believe and why.”
A tiny little bit in a ‘just world.’ I make a conscious effort to fight it, because I hate the thought that when I see something bad befall somebody, there must be a deserving cause.
I agree with this one! I’ve also come to believe that my husband is bad luck for the Habs…he’s out of the country, but the last 3 times he’s called during a game, the other team scored nearly immediately. Sure, I know full well it’s confirmation bias, but dammit, if he could just call between periods or even during commercials, I’m sure they’d lose fewer games!
Ghosts. I mean, not really, but you know . . . kinda.
The dumb thing is that I’m a Christian (which I know many of you would believe to be quite silly in itself) and that silly belief doesn’t really allow much space for the other silly belief. Silly squared.
Free will.
I sort of believe in fate. I always sort of have. I had a fantastically shitty childhood and a range of unpredictable and bizarre experiences that made me feel set apart from others from a very young age. The repercussions have reverberated throughout my adult life, but the truth is these experiences gave me so many tools to confront later conflicts in a calm, rational way. I’ve noticed that people lose their shit over the tiniest things nowadays, and those little things don’t phase me because of where I came from. I can deal with ANY kind of person, and genuinely like them, because of the people I grew up with.
More than that – a part of me really believes that the reason life was so shitty in the beginning is so that I would truly appreciate and utilize the gifts of my adulthood. I have certain innate abilities, such as writing, which have carried me farther than it seems reasonable to expect. I have had opportunities just sort of fall into my lap as a result of other opportunities that also fell into my lap. I have had wonderful things happen to me that I really don’t think I deserved, just by nature of having also had other things happen (both bad and good) that I didn’t deserve.
I’m really talking about sort of ridiculous things, like getting the first job I apply to every time. I know it’s because I’m a good writer and good interview, but I feel like those two talents were just sort of given to me, not anything I earned. I currently have my sights set on one of the most competitive Ph.D. programs in my field, but I have a deep and abiding sense that it will happen because that sort of thing always does happen for me, and there are already clear signs that I would be welcome. It’s not fair and I can’t explain it. It’s just my life.
You can actually trace a trajectory from my beginning in life to where I am now (still moving upward), and even though it didn’t make logical sense at the time, it makes logical sense when you look at my life as a whole. I have always possessed the strengths and experience necessary to deal with whatever I was facing, almost as if life had prepared me with those tools beforehand.
Like it was deliberate on behalf of the universe. As if the universe said, ‘‘olives needs experience A in order to deal with future crisis B, which will lead her to opportunity C and ultimately the joy of D.’’
I realize this sounds like idealistic kerfluffle, but I really genuinely feel my collective experience defies reason. Not only that I would have such a range of experience and wisdom by such a young age, but that I would possess the intelligence and insight necessary to make sense of it all, to build on it to do better in the future.
In a really strange way, I believe I was fated to succeed, not only by external measures but in the things that really matter. I was set up to constantly improve the quality of my own life, and the beauty of starting at such a low point is that I know how much worse it could be. I am basically an atheist but there is a part of me that can’t help but say, ‘‘Thank You’’ to whatever forces have been watching over me.
I know not everyone is so lucky–I know there are people who go through hell as kids WITHOUT the benefit of a good education, the ability to write their way into any opportunity, or the means needed to tease meaning out of chaos. My knowledge of this, the realization that for whatever reason I have these blessings, has really motivated me to consider the alleviation of suffering as an ethical obligation. I’ve worked hard, but a lot of people work hard with nothing to show for it. I didn’t earn this life so it only makes sense that I would give as much as I can back.
Oh, yeah. I can’t get my head around that, either. So I’m more than sorta believe in it - I do. But it doesn’t make any sense.
I didn’t even know about this until a few years ago and, despite the fact that I made tons of safe flights prior to this knowledge, I do it every time now, too.
I have always touched the outside of the airplane before I get on. I have even had to angle myself to do it if other people were in the way. I have heard other people report the same thing before. No one ever told me to do that, it is just a mild compulsion. I am not scared of flying in the least either. I am not sure where this idea comes from.
homeopathy.
product called Calms Forte - love it! Not sure about any other homeopathic remedies though.
Husband says its just the placebo affect and I say - so what, it keeps me from being excessively uptight and helps me sleep at night. If a sugar pill is all that’s involved, along with my irrational belief, who cares! I am tricking myself into a good nights sleep and loving it!
I tend to think of some things as semi-sentient friends and companions. An old reliable car, my canoe, certain tools and recreational/hobby items.
That the earth and its wilder inhabitants know I’m trying my best to help them out.
That honor/honesty/doing the right thing matters. I know better, but I can’t help myself. It’s just not cool to cheat your way through life, even though… well, you win a lot more. And you enjoy yourself more. And you get more toys. And more girls. And people like you a lot more. And everybody else is doing it anyway.
It’s very puzzling to me to both know this (i.e. that I can do whatever the hell I want, and there are no consequences whatsoever, beyond the material ones should I be both dishonest AND stupid) but not being able to believe in it. I think a part of me still thinks there’s going to be a big prize at the end for not being a dick, or a scoreboard… something.
Knocking on wood. I know it’s ridiculous, and it doesn’t do anything. But if I say something like “I’ve never had the flu,” I have to knock on wood (or the fake wood/particle board at work). It’s almost a compulsion. Even though rationally I know it’s crazy.
That I have a chance to win the lottery. I know the math. It ain’t gonna happen.
But when the lottery gets into the $100 mill range, I start buying a lottery ticket, if I’m at the gas station.
And why do I wait for $100mill? It’s not like I’d pass on a $30mill winning pot, now would I?
Despite doing a couple of undergraduate statistics papers and intellectually accepting it’s invalid I still find myself believing in the Gambler’s fallacy when I’m sitting at the poker table and haven’t had a good hand in a while (or far less frequently have had a series of great hands).
That there’s something to ghost stories, Bloody Mary, things like that. I’d be the one leave the haunted house after the first night and not steal the jewelry from the old witch’s tomb that is said to be cursed. Do I believe in ghosts and curses and the Necronomicon? Of course not. But why dare it? Don’t take the chance.
Also that being charming, intelligent, kind and polite will actually cause women to at least look at me favorably.