Beliefs

I am not so sure that anything involving thought, consciousness, or God can truly be called a fact. Many people would strongly disagree with that statement, and I understand why. But to me, anything in that realm feels like opinion. That includes everything I write and everything I speak about.

There are simply too many possibilities.

We could just be highly evolved animals with self-awareness, convinced we are more significant than we really are. In an infinite universe, we might be no more extraordinary than bacteria. Or perhaps we are something far greater than we can comprehend.

Sometimes I wonder if God is like air, unseen and everywhere, the substance everything is made of and sustained by. I wonder if consciousness is what we call the soul. When air leaves our lungs, our bodies may continue briefly, but our awareness fades almost immediately. And yet sometimes it returns. Sometimes machines breathe for us while we lie in comas, suspended somewhere betwen presence and absence, and then somehow we come back. Our consciousness returns to the body.

What does that mean?

My point is this. There are so many possibilities that I hesitate to call anything about God, consciousness, the soul, or the afterlife a fact. At best, we offer opinions. And yet so many speak about these subjects with absolute certainty. Wars have been fought over them. Families have been divided. Entire civilizations have been shaped by declarations of certainty about things none of us can empirically prove.

I have often heard that faith is belief in the absence of evidence. My logical mind struggles with that. Why should I believe in something without evidence? And yet there are times when I feel that belief without evidence is the very thing that keeps me moving forward.

There is, however, a difference.

Believing that I can write a book, compose a song, build something meaningful, run a marathon, complete an ultra, or finish a triathlon, even if I have never done it before, makes sense. That kind of belief fuels effort. It creates the possibility of action. We have seen this throughout history. For years, no one broke the four-minute mile because it was widely believed to be impossible. Then Roger Bannister did it. Once belief shifted, hundreds and eventually thousands followed. The barrier was never purely physical. It was psychological.

Belief can unlock human potential.

But when belief about God or the afterlife becomes so rigid that we judge others, condemn them, lie to ourselves, or even go to war over it, something has gone wrong. When opinions are presented as unquestionable facts, harm follows. I try to speak about these matters as what they are for me, beliefs, reflections, and perspectives, not certainties. I am sure I fail at times, but I make a conscious effort to distinguish between fact and faith, especially with people who may not recognize that distinction.

I share my beliefs with my sons, my family, and those close to me not to indoctrinate them, but to help them navigate life’s uncertainties. We all wrestle with questions of meaning and purpose. We are constantly bombarded with opinions disguised as facts through media, social media, and cultural conditioning. If I am going to help someone move through that confusion, I owe them honesty. That means sharing not just one train of thought, but the many perspectives I have studied and wrestled with, because the truth is, I simply do not know.

Some have told me that exploring beliefs outside what is commonly accepted in our culture is dangerous, even evil. I have heard it said that all other religions and philosophies are forms of idolatry because they teach a different path to salvation. Yet in much of what I have studied, the heavy emphasis on salvation and exclusive access to heaven seems most pronounced in certain interpretations of Christianity and Islam. Many other traditions focus less on rescue from damnation and more on living rightly, cultivating awareness, and embodying compassion. Even when they use symbols, statues, or revered teachers, they often clarify that the symbol is not the ultimate reality.

I deeply admire the life and teachings of Jesus. His example resonates with me. I cannot say I feel the same certainty about every passage in the Bible, especially when read cover to cover. Some parts are difficult and even frightening. But the life of Jesus, his compassion, his courage, and his defiance of hypocrisy, makes profound sense to me.

I also revere other teachers throughout history such as Buddha, Gandhi, Wayne Dyer, Alan Watts, and the figure of Krishna. I have found wisdom in texts like the Upanishads, the Bible, the Quran, and the Bhagavad Gita.

Yet I have not found one person or one book that I believe contains all the facts.

That does not mean I deny divinity. In fact, I suspect divinity may be present in all of us. Some might call it the Christ consciousness. I believe we all possess something sacred within us, even if most of us rarely reflect it clearly.

When people practice self-awareness, mindfulness, meditation, solitude, questioning, and honest seeking, something shifts. Not because they are trying to impress anyone. Not because they are striving for spiritual superiority. But because at some point they begin to see differently. They begin to act differently. They recognize that much of what they once clung to was illusion, ego, fear, and conditioning.

And when that illusion falls away, what remains feels simple.

What remains feels true.