What would happen if we could infuse every thought, feeling and action with a sense of unshakeable trust?
Imagine if every time we felt an inkling of self-doubt, a pang of sadness or a moment of hesitation, we could meet that fear head on with an undeniable faith in ourselves at the very core of our being—a raw, unquestionable belief that life is in fact supporting us.
In other words, what would happen if we gave ourselves permission to trust life?
There would be a great unfolding—we would become full and enriched, rather than empty and depleted. We would free ourselves from attachment and stop clinging to that which we cannot control. We could, in essence, relinquish ourselves from the prison of our own suffering.
I know I am not alone when I admit that more often than not when I am faced with a great risk or some element of change, I wait—and I put it off for a more favorable time when the stars align and I finally have enough money, I've paid off my debts, I've practiced or studied enough and I have reached a level of seeming perfection that could make such risk-taking less scary and more logistical and systematic.
But with that perfectionist's mindset I seemed to always wait a very long time, only for nothing to happen.
Consider the possibility of trusting life—and then diving right in. To trust yourself enough to take a great leap of faith and plunge into the darkness of the unknown, despite potential obstacles and problems and unfortunate mishaps that will, inevitably, happen one way or another. No amount of preparation readies you for life's greatest, most rewarding challenges. For instance, I am not a mother yet, but I do believe that this sentiment also applies here.
When we trust life, we allow ourselves to ride the wave of excitation and embrace the magic and mystery that is unfolding before our very eyes—despite all the twists and turns along the way. But without trusting ourselves first, we cannot trust in the process of creation. Instead, we try to force and compartmentalize things so that they go our way, which in the end does not always lead to great fulfillment and satisfaction.
I've talked myself out of doing many things because of fear-based thinking that was only trying to protect my ego. I've often wondered how one can tell the difference between intuition and fear. Both feelings are indeed quite strong, but the latter will always ring much louder. Intuition is a soft, faint whisper that can sometimes be heard rustling in the wind, when we are quiet, receptive and at peace. And so, trust must also be a whisper—as soft as a murmur or gentle hiss, but as powerful as the subtlety of breath which gives us life and vitality.
In hindsight, I can see now that after being thrown a few challenges and curveballs that bruised my ego and changed my perfectly calculated plans, I can safely say that after much ado about nothing, I am recommitted to trusting in myself and the process. Will you do the same?