Believe all things, but hold on to none

On a walk through a nature preserve this morning with a friend, he told me that his aging cat had developed diabetes and his girlfriend was suggesting that he consult a cat psychic. I of course expressed some doubt about that, but he said he'd probably do it. "Who knows?" he asked rhetorically, "couldn't hurt."

Responding to my doubt, he added, "I tend to believe all things, but I hold on to none."

The first part of that reminded me of the little essay about charity, or love, in Saint Paul's letter to the Corinthians. "Charity believeth all things." I've often said that of myself. That is, that I believe all things, although I know that that might be hard for my readers to accept, having seen lately what a skeptic I've become.

But the second part of what my friend said, I liked that too. "Hold on to none." How unlike the man I saw later at Costco wearing a T-shirt to remind everyone that Jesus was nailed to the cross for us. This man may not believe all things, but he sure believes that. He holds on to it, counts on it.

But not my friend, and not me either. For in "hold on to none" I immediately recognized myself, although I'd never consciously practiced it, as my friend seems to. And I see this now as a way to understand my going from "blasted" to "buoyed by birdsong" over the last few days.

Let me try to explain that. My experience of being blasted resulted, I think, from pressing too hard to try to find something in religion that, damn it, I could hold on to. I became blasted from not finding any such thing anywhere I was turning.

But when a blog friend prompted me to tell her what, then, I would prefer to spend my time on, I easily and confidently said that I felt I was going to be okay. I would just relax, be my usual, morally upright self (love my neighbors and treat my enemies with respect but circumspection), and enjoy life. Exult in the sun and the wind, maybe write a lyric occasionally, interject some praise. Enjoy reading for interest the Qur'an, the Gnostic Gospels, Muhammad Asad's memoir, Ezra Pound's Cantos, John le Carré's novels.

And continue to tend to believe in angels, if it pleases me, believe that God exists, that Jesus was the son of God (and might even look a bit like Brad Pitt), that he died and rose again, that Muhammad was God's messenger...But now, especially after that walk in the woods this morning, I won't count on any of it.