Once, while having a conversation about wingsuit diving, it occurred to me that there was an important element to my life that has gone missing for a long time. The presence of this element is critically important, or is at the very least directly related to happiness. As much as it pains me to say it, that missing element might be superstition.
su-per-sti-tion (noun)
1. a belief or notion, not based on reason or knowledge, in or of the ominous significance of a particular thing, circumstance, occurrence, proceeding, or the like
In other words, superstition is belief in something without proof, and sometimes in the face of proof against it.
I had long dismissed superstition from my life because there was a time when superstition had an unhealthy hold on me. It is difficult now to remember so long ago when I used to think so differently, but at one point in my life I believed, superstitiously, that sharing plans is a guarantee that plans will fail. This is a secretive, selfish feeling, and one of desperation and mistrust. In other words, you might call it learned behavior from believing I was around people that always find a way to ruin my plans if they come to light too early. Regardless of my motivations, this one superstition caused me to make some considerable mistakes that could be viewed as hurtful to others. One particular example was giving my family 48 hours notice before I moved out, not only out of the house, but immediately to the opposite side of the country. This sounds extreme, but at the time I really couldn’t see handling it differently because of what I believed.
Moving out and being on my own was incredibly hard, but it allowed me to slowly banish many thoughts, habits, beliefs, and superstitions that were unhealthy or “weren’t real” or weren’t worth having. I was ruthless in dispatching every tiny behavior that didn’t stand up to logic and scrutiny. Ultimately I grew as a person in a positive direction, but as I alluded to earlier, something important was removed that shouldn’t have been.
Here’s how I turned myself around:
I had realized during the aforementioned wingsuit diving conversation that banishing all superstition from my life was a mistake. As a kind gesture I had invited a friend, a creative type, who openly believes in forces that cannot be seen, to one day paint my gear as a good luck charm. Good. Luck. Charm. That was it. I searched my brain for the last time that I had a good luck charm and nothing was coming up. I don’t think I’ve had a good luck ritual since I was a teenager, if that. I had thrown out the invisible yet unmistakable majesty of good luck charms as vehemently as I had dismissed religion.
The specialness of believing that ordinary objects can be imbued with special properties, I realized, is not superstition at all; It is a type of love that you only hear Buddhists speak about. I realized that if I could have a friend paint just a tiny emblem on my helmet that I would feel safe. This goes against everything I would otherwise believe, and yet I do believe it. A rush of ineffable conclusions filled my mind that moment but I noted firmly that living without magic for so long is to live without appreciation of all things. Love, honor, trust, integrity, and respect, all seem to be tied to this concept. And with that realization, a child-like appreciation of the world began rumbling in the distant sky and slowly roaring its way back into my life.
It is time to start believing again. I encourage you, dear reader, to comment and tell me about your own good luck charms or rituals.