When I consider the words, “I believe”, my Mind answers, “I don’t know.” So I speak to the logical half. Belief is something, that my Logic says, is unnecessary in this present. If, It follows, you need to believe then you will. This is tricky because it is my Mind who speaks to me. My Mind, is a responder. It responds to situations and circumstance but may not think out of priority. Here and now, with this essay, I do challenge it: “This I believe…” And It responds, “nothing”, and It asks “why, what must you believe?”? Why, what, I say, well, I guess I cannot imagine what I would need to believe nor, then, why I would need to believe it. I suppose, Mind, that I either know or do not know. Most things that I know, I am hardly aware of. I know how to breathe, how to sit, how to type; I know the sky is often, though not too often, blue and the sun is dangerous to look at. And now the question finally has root, Why do I believe that the sun is dangerous to look at? OK, Mind, I have looked directly into its core of brightness. Others have told me that it is dangerous. I get my word from them, but I get the feeling from somewhere in you, Mind. You tell me, without using the word “danger”, that there is consequence. I get a feeling, like when I touch a knife’s edge and I shout “OW” before the pain (if there is any) and before the blood appears. But I know that I have looked into the sun before and I will do it again. I know I have eyes and a desire to look, sometimes into the sun. I do not believe I have eyes and desire. I know I have them. There are things I know and there are very many things I do not know, but there is nothing that I believe or do not believe. I know if a hungry carnivore is attacking me, that I had better know if I have a weapon or it might be good to know how to run. But I certainly wouldn’t want to believe I have a weapon or believe that I know how to run.
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