Belief is an important aspect of our life. It is what protects us from the truth.
We have to understand that we only believe in things that we do not know for ourselves, to be true. Once we know it, we don’t believe it. Do you understand?
And that very knowing of Truth is not an idea, it is not faith, it is not trust. It is not what someone told us, or something we read or heard somewhere. It is not religion. It is truth, based upon our own personal investigation into life, and our own intuitive understanding. The mark of the disciple is to go past the teachers understanding. This cannot be done through belief – no matter how great the teacher!
So belief is not truth. Belief is what we cultivate when we don’t know the truth.
TRUTH
A Course Of Love – Book One
Chapter 21 verses 9 & 10
“Knowing the one truth is not about knowing a certain dogma or a set of facts. Those who know the truth do not see themselves as right and others as wrong. Those who know the truth find it for themselves by joining mind and heart. Those who know the truth become beings of love and light and see the same loving truth in all.”
21.9,
21.10
Belief
Whatever spirituality is, it is not something to be discovered. It is something to be recovered—something you misplace and recover a thousand times in a lifetime
Belief 2
Nor is belief in God, mystery, or prayer something one either possesses or doesn’t. Rather, belief is something one tries continually to keep oneself open to, accessible to, or something one continually refuses to open oneself up to. The only difference between … [the two of us] was that I still wanted to remain open. Open to what? Open to the possibility that there was something more to life than my vanity, something more than what I could manipulate or grasp…. As inadequate as I felt that day … I wanted to remain open to the possibility that there was something nobler in life than what I could see or touch.
Belief 3
Sometimes we awaken to it through nature. Sometimes it comes to us through art, music, dance, or silence. Sometimes we are reminded of it by interacting with or observing children. Sometimes we happen upon it through chance encounters with strangers. And for a moment, we are smitten with the sublime. And then we lose it. We lose its scent, we can’t make out its sound. Sometimes we stumble around for what feels like days, months, perhaps years, trying to recapture it—trying to pick back up the scent, trying to make out the sounds. But even though we find ourselves stumbling, we’re onto something