Belief, Part 2: Borrowed Certainty

Oct 2

5 min read

An Essene Life Mantra

Dr. Kenn McSperitt

How much of what you believe did you actually choose? In the second installment of the Belief series, Dr. Kenn explores the powerful influence of family, culture, education, and life experience on the stories we carry about ourselves and the world. Through thoughtful reflection and the wisdom of the ancient peace traditions, this Essene Life Mantra invites readers to examine inherited certainty with curiosity and humility, discovering how genuine personal evolution begins when we become willing to question not only what we believe—but why we believe it.

Last time we talked about why human beings believe. We discovered that belief isn't necessarily a bad thing. In many ways, it's how we navigate the unknown. Belief helps us make sense of life. It gives us direction when we don't yet have experience.

But tonight I'd like to ask a different question. How much of what you believe actually belongs to you? That's a fascinating question. Because if we're honest, most of us didn't start life building our own worldview. We inherited one.

Think about it. You didn't choose your first language. You didn't choose your parents. You didn't choose where you were born. You didn't choose the culture that surrounded you. Long before you were old enough to think critically, someone was already answering life's biggest questions for you.

"This is right."

"That's wrong."

"These are our people."

"Those are their people."

"This is how the world works."

Again, there's nothing unusual about that. That's how every generation teaches the next. The question isn't whether we inherit beliefs. The question is whether we ever examine them.

One of my favorite things about traveling is meeting people who grew up in completely different worlds. The more I travel, the less convinced I become that my own experience is the center of reality. I've shared meals with people who prayed differently than I do. I've listened to people whose political views couldn't have been more different from mine. I've spoken with people whose childhoods bore almost no resemblance to my own.

And you know what I discovered?

Most of them were trying to live good lives.

Most of them loved their families.

Most of them wanted peace.

Most of them were doing the best they knew how with the experiences they'd been given.

That realization humbled me.

It reminded me that if I had been born where they were born... raised by the people who raised them... educated in the schools they attended... I might very well see the world through their eyes.

That's worth thinking about.

Sometimes we confuse familiarity with truth. Something feels true because we've heard it our entire lives. But familiarity isn't the same as certainty.

One of the healthiest habits I've developed is asking myself,

"Would I still believe this if I had grown up somewhere else?"

Not because I'm trying to destroy my beliefs.

Because I'm trying to understand them.

I've noticed something interesting. The beliefs we're most defensive about are often the ones we've examined the least. It's almost as though part of us is afraid to look too closely. Not because truth is dangerous... but because change can be.

Personal evolution almost always asks something of us. It asks us to let go of yesterday's certainty in order to discover tomorrow's understanding. That's uncomfortable. But it's also how we grow.

I've often compared beliefs to maps. Maps are incredibly useful. If you're driving across the country, you'd be foolish to throw your map out the window. But you'd be equally foolish to mistake the map for the landscape itself. The map points toward reality. It isn't reality.

Our beliefs work much the same way. They're attempts to describe life. Not life itself. And that's why humility matters so much. Because every map is incomplete. Even the best one.

This doesn't mean all beliefs are equally helpful. They're not. Some beliefs lead toward greater health. Others lead toward suffering. Some lead toward compassion. Others toward division. Some encourage curiosity. Others fear questions.

That's why I've often said that truth should be evaluated by its fruit.

Does this belief help me become more peaceful?

More loving?

More compassionate?

More honest?

More connected to Nature?

More deeply human?

If it does, I'm interested.

If it consistently produces fear... hatred... arrogance... or separation... then perhaps it's time to revisit the map.

One of the great tragedies of modern life is that we've become so identified with our beliefs that questioning them feels like questioning ourselves. But you are not your beliefs. You are the awareness capable of examining them.

That's an important distinction.

Beliefs change. You've already proven that. Think back ten years. How many opinions have changed? How many assumptions have been corrected? How many things once seemed absolutely certain that now seem incomplete? That's not failure. That's growth.

Nature grows.

Consciousness grows.

Wisdom grows.

Why shouldn't our beliefs?

Maybe maturity isn't reaching the point where we have all the answers. Maybe maturity is becoming comfortable enough to keep asking better questions. That's one of the reasons I believe curiosity is such a beautiful quality. Curiosity doesn't threaten truth. It refines our understanding of it.

I've met deeply wise people from many different traditions.

Some were religious.

Some weren't.

Some were scientists.

Some were artists.

Some lived in monasteries.

Some worked on ranches.

What they all seemed to have in common wasn't identical beliefs. It was humility. They listened. They learned. They remained teachable. And perhaps that's one of the clearest signs of wisdom. Not certainty. Teachability. Because the moment we believe we've arrived... we stop growing.

And if personal evolution is truly the purpose of life...

then growth itself becomes sacred.

Next time we'll take one final step together.

If beliefs are maps... and experience is the landscape... is there a way of living that depends less on believing... and more on directly experiencing truth?

I think there is.

And that's where we're headed.

Dr. Kenn Challenge

Until we meet again, I'd like you to choose one belief you've held for many years. Don't try to prove it wrong. Don't try to defend it. Simply become curious.

Ask yourself:

"Where did this belief come from?"

Was it your family?

Your culture?

A teacher?

A personal experience?

Then ask one more question:

"Has this belief helped me become more peaceful, more compassionate, more loving, and more fully alive?"

Don't rush to answer.

Just sit with the question.