Superstition is the poetry of life.

Not every belief you hold is meant to be tested. Small rituals, lucky habits, the sense that a certain day feels wrong, all run on something other than evidence. They give ordinary hours a shape they would not have otherwise. Calling them poetry is not calling them false; it is saying they work the way an image works rather than the way a proof does.

Notice which of yours you would defend and which you simply enjoy. Keep the ones that make a day feel inhabited, and set down any that quietly make you afraid.