According to Dictionary.com, a superstition is defined as:
- a belief or notion, not based on reason or knowledge, in or of the ominous significance of a particular thing, circumstance, occurrence, proceeding, or the like;
- a system or collection of such beliefs;
- a custom or act based on such a belief.
I’ve always been superstitious. When I learned how to play solitaire as a tween, that superstition quickly found a home. I began playing the game the way others might use tarot cards: If I win this game, it means good luck. If I lose, my wish won’t come true.
Oh, don’t worry—I know from whom all blessings flow. My faith is firmly grounded and not easily shaken. But sometimes, in my humanness, I fall prey to my feelings and find myself in need of distraction. Maybe control. In some way, superstition offers me a little of both.
Recently, I’ve been thinking about the difference between emotions and feelings. The clearest way I can sum it up is this: emotions are physiological reactions to stimuli, while feelings are the thoughts we assign to those reactions based on our experiences.
Why is knowing the difference important? I don’t know. It probably isn’t. But for me, I wanted a better way to take control of my feelings—a better way than sitting down with a deck of cards and telling myself that if I win this game, everything will work out just fine.
If we understand that emotions are simply human reactions to the world around us, then we can reason that, given enough time, those emotions will pass. Feelings, on the other hand, are trickier. They get tangled up with our beliefs.
The other day, I learned something that triggered an emotion I immediately attached feelings to. Those feelings made me deeply uncomfortable. I found myself wrestling with censorious, unfriendly thoughts toward another person—and toward myself. It felt like carrying an unwelcome burden of hostility, competition, regret, and maybe even a little jealousy. When I searched for the root of those feelings, the emotion they were tied to, I landed on anger. And I had to ask myself: What am I angry about?
My husband answered that question for me. I wasn’t winning. And it wasn’t really about winning, not exactly. It was about fairness. Equality. Balance.
We aren’t all dished the same plate of struggle in this life, and that reality was making me angry. But it is reality. No amount of whining, crying, complaining, or angry lamentation will change it. So I took a deep breath and chose to move on. Once I identified the emotion behind the feelings, I could reason that there wasn’t truly a need to be angry at all.
Still, as a human, I’m entitled to my feelings. More than that—I think feelings matter. So I processed them the best way I could.
I prayed.
Then I pulled out my deck of cards and set up a game of solitaire.
If I win this game, everything will be just fine.
First game—bam—a win.
This is me winning.
Witness Marks 