Splintered

I want to believe all sorts of foolishness. Especially those hard to believe items. I like the idea of space aliens, demi-gods, and evolution. Just kidding about evolution. That there's a good sciency theory.

Something deep within me doesn't want to say NO to anything. The kind interpretation of this is that I like living in a world of possibilities. More accurate to say that I'm unwilling to say NO. If there were a church of the steady state, the smoke might burn white when they consider me for pope.

That predisposition has invited too many foreign bodies into in my life, so many splinters of belief. By now, I should have removed the more obvious false beliefs that I'd been able to ID. The smaller ones should have worked themselves out. Another belief about how things work. Shoulds! Oughts!

What's the distinction I'm laboring after, you might rightfully ask? Conviction vs. Belief. I'm not saying that belief is always a splinter. Or that conviction is a tweezer. Or that faith is unimportant.

I am surprisingly willing to look into what is me and what is not me. To see if conviction will stand in tandem with belief and whether they strengthen each other. Or will one fall away?

I could yammer on about the examined life but this is smaller than that. This is all about these tiny, jagged details that cause weird, tiny pain. What's left should be smooth, should belong, should feel good. Should.