The Ferocity of Trust

Whom do I trust? Ultimately, to be honest, no one. Not that I don’t choose to trust certain individuals under particular circumstances. I trust my sister to show up five minutes early. I trust my partner to tell me if he is annoyed. I trust my girlfriends to respond when I reach out.

But I am always aware of how humans are vulnerable and can be manipulated, easily pulled to even subtle levels of dishonesty, small white lies, omissions, and hidden agendas. People can be seduced and pressured, and then they fall. They fall from their own values due to secret longings or most often their fears. It is ridiculous to fully trust people when one has been repeatedly betrayed. I have always trusted too many too much and it was foolish. The lessons and even the trauma never leaves. We become suspicious. We may even project our fears onto those who have every reason to be trusted.

We can ruin our relationships because we refuse to trust, waiting around to prove we are correct in our fears, thus pushing people out. No one likes not being trusted. I have battled with trust for years. I even purposefully put my energy into those I knew could not be trusted just to avoid all the promises I was sure would be broken anyway. No trust, no shock of betrayal.

However, as I grow and build a new life, I can see that trusting no one is deeply painful, bitter and lonely. I have come to see that no one can earn my trust. I must take a measured risk and choose it. I must act as if. I must live without investigating them. Being a detective means learning things I am not supposed to know. And if I am supposed to know, it will naturally surface.

Yes, yes, of course I will be far more discerning now. I will observe the people in my life. I will note who says the very things that give their intentions away. I will recognize when someone tries to reason with me but their actions suggest otherwise, even when they believe themselves. It is impossible to convince me that you are trustworthy, since I have seen beyond a doubt that all people are capable of betrayal. I no longer try to convince myself of their purity or their devotion. I have room for small betrayals now. I still forgive easily, but I know what I will no longer tolerate.

So how do I find joy in such a dark belief?

I am learning that the best way to trust others, a lot or a little, is found in the decision to trust in myself. Trust in my ability to be okay even if. Trust my intuition. Trust the solid boundaries I set. Trust in fate.

If I feel powerless over the choices that others make, I must fall back on who I am. I must remember myself. I remind myself that I am a warrior spirit. I am a fighter with two feet planted. I am a survivor. If the worst happens, I will accept the disappointment; it is not a reflection of my worth. I will pick myself up in the end. I will rebuild. I will eventually thrive beyond any wreckage someone left in their wake. There are some fundamental reasons I will heal: I like myself. I like my life, the one which does not rely upon any singular human. I will continue to live and find joy despite them. And it is a comfort. The beauty I create is soulful. It is not dependent on so-and-so being in it.

I remember that moments of love with another person are a gift. Laughter with my children. Intimacy with my lover. Fragile moments with the elderly, the healers, the magical sprites of the world. These gifts are not meant to be permanent. Even we earthlings are not permanent. And in this way, I can treasure them, instead of clinging to the inane idea that it must always be this good.

When I look back on the people who have left or lied or betrayed my trust, I don’t beat myself up anymore. I gently review the peaks of glory or tenderness we shared. Those things were real too. I can be grateful to have known that part of them that wished to know me and played with me for a while. We will always be a part of each other.

I can have boundaries about what I will allow and take responsibility for the risks I take. I must avoid overly enmeshed relationships. I must declare to my loved ones that they are free agents and not mine to shackle to a self-righteous moralism. Go and do what you will.

Free will is the reality of our time here. I must let others have free will to do as they see fit. It is not my job to judge it or control it. It is my job to be honest in it. I will hold people loosely and show compassion for their journey. If they falter in their trust between us, I can protect myself by showing them forgiveness and compassion. I can cry if it hurts, until it doesn’t hurt so much anymore. I understand that to love someone is to accept that they may not always serve my needs, but the divine universe will always provide.

I am able to love you, here, like this, because I trust in the divine orchestration of my life. I trust in myself fiercely.

Wind and Windmills

I am fascinated with the modern day windmills stretched out like sleek and stoic giants, lording over the plains of the earth! For some reason they strike me as particularly divine, slowly turning round and round, no hurry, no concern, driven by a force not of them but with them, serving the needs of our human, earthly existence. The sheer size of these titans promotes awe. Communion with nature’s elements is a stellar magic born of human creation.

So it is for the tiny humans as well, pawns to the wind, yet able to wield the wind to our advantage.

This is Fate and Free Will at once.

When I was a younger woman, I was afraid of the power of the Fates. What would bring me to my knees now? What next? How can I possibly endure that which I cannot control? I was in constant vigilance for the inevitable powers of chaos and catastrophe.

I was taught I must manipulate, coerce, prepare, adorn myself in armor, and steel against the winds! This was the only way to obtain what I felt was necessary for survival and ultimately for the things that always seemed to slip from my fingers. To take control. To plot how I can take the spoils of my own war.

It is a futile thing to defy the fates. I had lacked wisdom and had refused to surrender to anything that opposed me. I did exactly what I was taught to do by those who led me there. And it often felt as though everything and everyone opposed me.

It was foolish.

Through the years, I did do one thing that slowly began to work. I sought wisdom by watching the people I admired. In truth, I didn’t admire that many people. I actually don’t think there are that many people that have much figured out. But there were a few, and I locked in on them like a missile.

They showed me that Fate would intervene no matter what, and if I had faith in it, that invisible trust that it would be okay without my willful shove, I might actually enjoy the adventure of it all! In fact – and here is the secret – I could be the willing turbine that allowed the wind to turn me. I could choose just how to stand there and move with dignity, a knowing power of my own impact upon this earth.

The fateful winds blew. Instead of fighting it, I turned with it and generated a union of power. I would do my best to allow the wind to guide my choices. I learned what was immature willfulness and what was divinely led intuition. This discernment was crucial and for me, it only came from the brutality of mistakes.

Opportunity and Choice = Power.

Now I hold the power to love my self, my life and my fellows. Power for positive change. Power to live like a warrior goddess. Power to know joy and even the power to fight for what the fates call upon me to do.

I still feel discomfort. Sometimes I cry out, longing for the wind to bring me that which I can use, instead of trying to churn and grind in a lonely death.

Today, I turn to face the wind; I close my eyes and softly wait.