Do We Own Our Beliefs Or Do They Own Us?

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At its simplest, a belief is something we accept as true. We all have beliefs. Some help us make sense of our experiences; others give us hope, direction, and a sense of belonging. Beliefs can also shape what we notice, which voices we trust, and which questions we ask. In that sense, beliefs are more than opinions we carry around. They become part of the lens through which we view the world — and because we look through that lens, we may not always recognize how much power they have to shape what we see, feel, and experience.

Realizing that beliefs can shape our reality raises a question: Do we own our beliefs, or do they own us?

The answer matters because beliefs shape how we interpret events, make decisions, relate to others, and share what we think we know. When we examine and reconsider them, treating them as tools for understanding our experiences, we can, in this sense, say we “own them.” Conversely, beliefs begin to “own us” when they become too important to question  —when reconsidering them feels like a threat to our identity, community, or place in the world.

I began writing about beliefs and rabbit holes after observing communities — especially on social media — pull people away from their original purpose and shared sense of reality. As I investigated, a more demanding question emerged: How do any of us come to believe what we believe? That question included me. It shifted my writing focus from investigating others’ rabbit holes to the rabbit holes we all visit.

My Investigation Began With Curiosity

Around 2010, I went online to explore teachings aligned with my lifelong interests in metaphysics and spirituality. I wanted to understand the excitement surrounding the Great Shift many people anticipated in 2012. One question led to another, and the internet opened doors to ideas, teachers, and communities I might never have encountered otherwise. It was exhilarating, and I absorbed many beliefs that continue to shape my reality. I do not regret following my curiosity.

My concern arose a few years later, when political claims and conspiracy narratives began circulating in spiritual communities I knew. When I began writing, I thought I was investigating what had happened to them. Eventually, I realized there was no “them.” I now understand the more important investigation concerns all of us: how belonging, identity, repetition, fear, hope, trusted authorities, and our own needs shape what we accept as true. None of this makes curiosity the problem. On the contrary, curiosity is one of our most valuable human capacities.

Curiosity inspires learning, discovery, creativity, and growth. It is also essential to autonomy and personal sovereignty — our capacity to examine what we have inherited, been taught, or been asked to accept, and to take responsibility for our beliefs. Curiosity helps our beliefs become considered, intentional choices rather than unquestioned conclusions. It encourages us to venture beyond familiar explanations and encounter ideas and possibilities we might otherwise overlook. Curiosity can take us somewhere wonderful.

Curiosity can also lead us into a narrow tunnel where seemingly new claims echo the last. Different posts, videos, and voices may appear to offer independent confirmation while actually repeating information from the same original source. Algorithms learn what holds our attention and show us more of it. Repetition can sound like corroboration, even when it is merely amplification, and the walls of the tunnel seem to confirm one another. The trouble isn’t that we entered a rabbit hole; curious minds naturally do. The trouble begins when we forget that the rabbit hole is only one part of a much larger landscape.

How To Explore Rabbit Holes Without Losing Our Bearings

We begin by clarifying our relationship to the claim that caught our attention. Can I verify this claim with reliable evidence? Do I believe it? Have I experienced it personally? Or do I hope it is true? Knowledge, belief, personal experience, and hope all have a place in honest conversation, but they are not interchangeable — and they do not warrant the same degree of certainty when we share a claim with others. We maintain our bearings by clearly identifying whether we know, believe, have experienced, or hope something is true; by continuing to test what can be tested; and by aligning the certainty of what we share with the strength of the evidence supporting it.

This distinction has changed how I present myself and my work. I have become more intentional about distinguishing what I know through evidence, what I believe, what I have experienced personally, and what I simply hope may be true. Presenting myself authentically does not require me to abandon my metaphysical worldview or diminish the experiences that have been meaningful to me. It asks me to avoid presenting personal experience as universal evidence, and to avoid using the sincerity and enthusiasm of my beliefs to present a claim as certain to others. I have also learned that responsible investigation involves more than evaluating what we claim and share; it also asks us to look inward to see what a belief may be doing for us.

To maintain our bearings while exploring rabbit holes, we can also consider what a belief offers. Does it provide understanding, belonging, relief from uncertainty, or a sense of being in with the in crowd? These needs are human, and recognizing them helps us investigate more honestly, especially when an idea feels too compelling to scrutinize. We can also examine its fruits: Is this belief helping me become more curious, compassionate, and capable of complexity? Or is it making me fearful, contemptuous, isolated, or rigid?

What a belief produces in our lives can reveal something important about the relationship we have developed with it. When those fruits begin to concern us, our loved ones, or the people in our lives, reconsideration offers a way to pause and reorient. Reconsideration does not require us to repudiate everything we have believed, deny meaningful experiences, or abandon the communities we value. It simply asks us to look again.

And this is what I am most excited about. Reconsideration does not require us to abandon wonder. I discovered that reconsideration gives wonder room to breathe. I can still follow an intriguing question, listen to an unfamiliar perspective, and remain open to saying, “I don’t know yet.” And then I can wonder some more and ask for evidence without assuming every mystery has already been solved.

So, perhaps the most useful question in our investigations then also becomes the gentlest: What might I be missing?

I invite you to take what I have learned and bring that question to a news headline, a spiritual teaching, a confident expert, a trusted community, or a story you may have been telling yourself for years. What might I be missing? invites you to look beyond the first answer and, when needed, to look again.

Celeste Emelia Mattingly, LCSW, is a psychotherapist, coach, teacher, author, and creator of Celestial Psychology® and Intentional Human Development™. Drawing on more than four decades of helping experience, she explores consciousness, belief, discernment, and our intentional participation in who we are becoming. Her newest book is What’s Up with Rabbit Holes? An Insider’s Guide to Investigating What We Believe, Why We Believe It, and What We Might Be Missing. Learn more at CelestialEmpowerment.com.

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