The elastic bucket of faiths

‘A’ believes that vapourised chocolate is the basic essence of the universe, and that the Aztecs were correct (nearly) in acknowledging it as fundamental to life on the planet.  He admits that they made their mistake in killing those who enjoyed cocoa products.  If they had demonstrated to the setting sun that cocoa was life enhancing in itself, especially if taken in the form of an evening drink, with a desert spoonful of white sugar, a product that rains down from the sky when the moon is full, they would have flourished and would now rule the world.  He gives talks on this subject in pubs to be found in the NE of England and is fondly rewarded with pints of beer.

‘B’ has a firm belief in what he read in the Old Testament

‘C’ will, a year or two after she is born, believe in fairies and the wisdom of her teddy bear beyond anything.

‘D’ has complete faith in the words of the Koran

‘E’ puts his trust in the words of the Pope and the Bible

‘F’ is absolutely convinced that prayer wheels work

‘G’ puts her faith in the stars

‘H’ talks to her dead relatives.

‘I’ bowed low, once upon a time, to the statue of Pan at the gate to his property every morning before going to the market convinced that the god would protect all his interests.

J’ turned to Dr Henry Maudsley and said, I killed the man in the factory because I heard a voice telling me to do so’.   Etc etc.. 

It seems to me that faith is a magical bucket that grows bigger and smaller depending on the number of people who hold to ideas that are unprovable at any one time. 

Sadly, our beliefs can become so important to us that we are ready to kill each other to maintain what I think might be nothing more than states of mind - the product of synaptic activity.  I hasten to add that I do not hold to this idea any more than I think cats rule the world.  My interest is only in reducing the size of that bucket!…a bucket, I hasten to add, in which I hold little faith, since it is only a rather poor metaphor for something I do not basically understand, life being as complicated as it is.

I once walked onto a darkened stage shortly after a show had come to an end, and surprised myself by saying out loud, ‘excuse me’ to what was in fact an empty space. The apology was spontaneous, born out of the intensity of the acting that had gone on a few minutes before. For a brief moment, I felt the character’s presence again.   If I had had no knowledge of how we respond to our own psychological projections what would I have made of that?  I think I would have carried away with me a belief in theatre ghosts – and thus added to the capacity of that very elastic bucket of faith.