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The Inheritance of Thought
A quiet reckoning with the beliefs we carry, and the ones we choose to release
Sometimes I sit in the quiet and wonder: Where do my thoughts come from?
Not the loud ones that chatter through the day, but the ones that shape my life. The ones that sit beneath action. Those that feel like truth, but might be memories in disguise.
I used to think beliefs were born in me. That they were mine because they came from inside my head. But the more I’ve watched them, the more I’ve noticed: they came from somewhere else…
Passed down. Absorbed. Echoed.
They came from the way my mother moved through a room. From the way my father said nothing when he was hurting. They came from teachers who praised obedience. From systems that rewarded conformity. From a world that told me what it meant to be good, to be loved, to be right.
And so belief wasn’t a choice. It was an inheritance.
Some of it is valuable. Some of it is survival.
And the real work, the inner knowing, has been learning to trace these beliefs back to their source.
To ask each one
Who gave you to me? And do I still choose you?
