Last updated on October 3, 2025
My grandparents’ home was a little slice of heaven. Tucked away on a dirt road, surrounded by gardens and live oaks, it was the kind of place where time stretched long and sweet. There were chickens clucking in the yard, rabbits nibbling in shaded pens, and a tire swing tied high in the arms of a giant oak tree. For a city kid like me, it felt like a magic kingdom where the rules of the world softened and wonder came easy.
Every Saturday, the family gathered for dinner. Mamaw, with her quiet strength and culinary genius, made fried chicken that I still dream about. It was legendary. Somehow, even with a full house, I always ended up with a plateful of drumsticks, my favorite part. One warm evening, I was halfway through one of those golden, crispy pieces, blissfully chewing away, when my grandfather leaned in and asked with a twinkle in his eye, “How do you like the rabbit?”
I froze mid-bite. My jaw stopped. My heart sank. The taste that moments before had brought delight now turned to something unthinkable. I spit it out, burst into tears, and cried to my mom, horrified that I had eaten something I believed I never would. She tried to soothe me. She reminded me that I had been enjoying it just a second earlier. And she was right.
But it did not matter.
The moment my belief shifted, everything changed. What I thought was chicken became something else entirely, and that alone was enough to ruin the experience. The rabbit was not bad. The belief was. In half a second, that belief shaped my entire reality.
I have carried that moment with me for decades. Not because of the rabbit or the meal, but because it revealed something essential about what it means to be human. Our beliefs hold immense power. They are not just quiet thoughts in the background. They are the architects of how we feel, how we interpret, and how we respond to the world around us.
When we believe something is dangerous, we feel fear, whether the threat is real or imagined. When we believe something is depriving us, we act from scarcity, even if we are surrounded by abundance. When we believe we are not worthy, we live as though that belief is truth, unconsciously shaping a life that confirms it.
That is the power of the subconscious. It listens closely. It obeys what we feed it. I have come to understand it as something almost childlike. Train it with garbage and it will lash out, uncertain and reactive. Train it with clarity, compassion, and truth, and it becomes a fierce ally. It will protect you, serve you, and even help you heal.
What we believe is not fixed. It is trainable. That is the good news. You are not stuck with old ideas just because they have been around for a long time. You are allowed to challenge them. You are allowed to grow out of them. You are allowed to look at what you were once certain of and say, “That no longer fits.”
This is especially important when it comes to healing. So often we believe that healing must look a certain way. We believe it has to be perfect, linear, or measurable to be real. We believe we have to earn it, force it, or control every step for it to work.
But real healing does not come from clenching tighter. It comes from loosening the grip on old stories. It comes from questioning what no longer serves us and deciding, with gentleness and strength, to believe something new. That we can thrive. That we are not broken. That the body is wise. That healing is not a reward, but a birthright.
So I ask you today, with tenderness and curiosity: What belief are you still carrying that might no longer be true? What old rabbit story is still shaping how you show up in your life? What would happen if you allowed yourself to believe something softer, truer, more aligned with the you that is emerging?
Belief is not magic, but it is miraculous. It turns meals into memories. It turns fear into possibility. It turns healing from a far-off hope into a daily practice of coming home to yourself.
We will all have moments when the drumstick in our hand turns into something unexpected. But we also have the power to decide how we respond. To laugh, to learn, to love ourselves through it, and to remember that we are always one belief away from seeing the world differently.
About the Author
Leslie Nance is a Holistic Cancer Coach, Certified Holistic Nutritionist, speaker, and author. She helps women heal with clarity, courage, and soul. Writing and teaching about mindset, wellness, and living a life that feels as good on the inside as it looks on the outside.
