Where did you learn your beliefs?
Have you ever taken one of those standardized test prep classes? I have. One of the things they tell you to do might sound a little odd until you think about it. They tell you, if you can, to practice and/or study for your test in the room where you’re going to take it. Apparently, if you do this, you’re more likely to remember the information that you’ve studied. Think it’s crazy?
Have you ever smelled something or seen something or driven down a road and were instantly flooded with memories? I know I have. Whenever I smell Old Spice (classic), I instantly think of my husband. When I drive down the highways in my hometown, I might as well be sixteen years old again. Settings matter. Our brains develop connections to different experiences and when those experiences are mimicked or repeated, the memories come crashing in.
This is the concept employed by those test-prep people: if you’re in a familiar setting when you take a test, your brain will be reminded of all the things you’ve studied in preparation for the test and you’ll do better.
Setting matters. Where you learn something matters. Not just physically, but emotionally and in time as well.
If you’re just joining us, welcome! We’ve been exploring our beliefs over the past few weeks. You can catch up by reading my posts about what you believe and why you believe it. Today, it’s time to tackle where. Where did you learn your beliefs?
I went to public school in southeast Tennessee around the turn of the century. I remember the days before the internet and wireless phones. I remember playing outside until it got dark. I remember the blizzard of 1993. It snowed three feet. In southeast Tennessee. And it thundered while it snowed. I also remember September 11, 2001. I was in the sixth grade. During English class, a lot of teachers and other adults started to come in and talk to our classroom teacher. This was unusual and everyone seemed really anxious. They didn’t say anything to the rest of us, though. We just went on working until the bell rang and I went downstairs to Math class. Our teacher had the television on, which was unusual, and he was just staring at it. He told us all to sit down and watch the news, so we did. That’s when we started to learn what had happened in New York City that morning. As we watched, a second plane flew into the south tower. We stayed in Mr. Armor’s math class until school let out early that day and we watched both towers fall on the television. My hometown, which wasn’t too large, put out an extra edition of the Times Free Press. I don’t know if they’ve ever done that since. My Daddy and I went to the guy who sold newspapers in the drug store parking lot and bought one. I read it on the way home.
Where I was on that day mattered because it impacted how I viewed the events. If I had been in New York City or Washington D.C., my experience would have been much different. If I had been an adult at work or a younger child in elementary school, I would have a different story to tell. I don’t remember being too afraid, but I do remember being shocked and my parents were unable to really talk about what happened. We just watched the news play the same horrific film over and over again. A few weeks later, we watched on TV as our military bombed Iraq.
Because of these events and where I was in both time and space, I’ve never flown on a plane without going through an insane amount of security or with liquids larger than three ounces. Airline travel has always seemed very risky to me, not because of the planes, but because of the people on them. I learned to fear strangers and to look at others’ suspiciously because the cultural narrative taught me to, told me to, applauded me for doing so. Because of where I was in time and space, I also learned to suspect people who look or are Middle Eastern. They were vilified when none of them did anything wrong. Where I was on September 11, 2001 impacted what I believe about the world and why.
Many of you weren’t even alive on September 11, 2001 and that, too, has a way of influencing how you view the world. While you don’t share my experience, because you aren’t me, you do have other experiences. Where were you when you learned to read? Tie your shoes? Began to understand that the world wasn’t a happy place? Where did you learn that people aren’t perfect and can be downright nasty sometimes? There’s even more personal and terrible things that you’ve learned in your life and where you learned those things matters.
It matters because whenever you’re in those spaces, you remember what happened there. It matters because those places and times have a weird way of creeping into your mind and personality and making you who you are today.
Some things that you believe were learned in pleasant places with wonderful people who you love and respect. Some things that you believe were learned in unpleasant places and were taught by people behaving badly who you despise and don’t trust. I hope that regardless of where you learned your beliefs that you’ll give them the same treatment: keep the good, true, and believable things and discard the bad, false, and unbelievable ones. What I mean is this: don’t discard the things you were taught in unpleasant places because the setting was unfavorable, don’t swallow whole the things you were taught in pleasant places because the setting was favorable.
Yes, where we learn our beliefs matters. It matters because it impacts how we view those beliefs, but it also matters because it can influence which beliefs we hold onto and which ones we don’t. Do yourself a favor: don’t let your perception of a place, situation, or time color what you believe. I’ve learned some incredibly valuable, good, and true things from difficult circumstances that I shouldn’t have ever had to endure. I’ve learned some unhelpful, bad, and false things from nice places and easy circumstances.
It’s important to evaluate where you learned your beliefs because you need to see if you’re only giving credence to those things you learned through easy cumstances and discarding wholly those things you learned through difficult ones.
Take some time. Think. Consider. Be easy with yourself, too. Like I said at the beginning of this whole adventure, this won’t be easy. It will be painful, but I hope that it will be worth it.