Call me compulsive or unrealistic or weird (and you’d be more accurate than not), but when I look at where I have been, where I am and where I long to be (and know I will be), I like to look at the threads that tie my not-so-separate stories together.
And sometimes, when I am feeling that I’d prefer fairy tale over just about anything else in my reality, I attempt to tie those threads all together in a nice, neat, sweet bow.
Themes and consistency are, to me, comforting. Reassuring that my life is not random and haphazard but part of something that does (or at least will someday) make sense. Not predictable, but ultimately meaningful.
I look for these threads in the answers to questions I ask myself like:
What mistakes do I make over and over?
What people do I attract or seek out again and again?
Where have I gone wrong, and how might I make sure that never happens again?
What annoys me or repulses me consistently?
What lights me up? What moves me?
So with all of this in mind, one of the themes I keep coming back to is one of trust.
Trust.
Trust in others, of course.
Trust in myself, not so of course.
Trust in the process…the process that is my life.
Trust when things are going great and I’m all smiles. (That’s easy.)
Trust when things suck and times are tough and I am questioning who I am, who has my back, what I really want, what I really have. (Not so easy.)
Trust that everything happens for a reason. Trust that I am on the right path.
Trust, as in faith.
Knowing and seeing and believing when there doesn’t seem to be much to know, see or believe.
For the past few weeks, I have been writing a book. A new book, different from one I’d been writing a book proposal for (the funny, Eat, Pray, Love-like year-in-the-life one) and definitely different from the copywriting books I have written.
This is the book I was meant to write. The one, I have learned, I must write before I can write any of these others.
The one I have been scared sh*tless to write and have tried mightily to not write.
The one that just this month I finally agreed (with myself) to write. The one that in only two weeks has yielded (so far) 120 pages.
More (much more) on that book later (soon). The reason I mention it here and now is that as I write it and try to find those consistent threads and as I, yes, try to find some way to tie them together (if not just for myself but for the sake of this book and its readers), one of the places I keep coming back to is that place of trust.
Trust.
When I am trusting, It. Is. On. When I trust others, trust myself, trust the process, I am always right where I should be. I feel it in my body, in my mind, in my soul.
When I am not trusting, I am suspicious, closed, scared. When I am not trusting, I am off. Way off in most cases. I feel that, too, in my body and in my mind. (And, hey, it is easy to lose sight of the big picture when we are in the midst of a sh*t sandwich.)
Mistrust, like trust, feeds on itself. And becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy. If you expect people will cheat you and hurt you and screw you over and the world is out to get you, then guess what? That is likely what you will get.
But when you are open and trusting and have faith that whatever comes your way is what is meant to come your way and is for your ultimate good, then….amazing things happen.
What would your days, your weeks, YOUR LIFE look like if you believed, you knew, you trusted that everything was perfect…always? That it was, as the saying goes, all good? That even (and especially) the mistakes, screw-ups, a**hole people, detours and delays were, in fact, all part of a process that is meant to set you back, but to serve you?
I know…it is a lot to swallow. It sounds a little hokey. Maybe even unrealistic . And believe me, I am all about being realistic: Sugar-coating is for dessert, not for life.
Real life is imperfect, right?
Yes, right. It is.
Trust is not about flowers and butterflies. It is about those imperfections. And they, in fact, are what makes the process — you know, the one you are supposed to trust in? — so perfect.
Don’t take my word for it. (Or on anything, for that matter.) I — and those closest to me — know that I have my moments. My fears. My share of questioning. My epic meltdowns.
And yet, I do believe. I know. I trust. Because I have witnessed what happens when trust gently but decisively kicks doubt’s a**.
So when I go back, as I write this book and even as I just sit and stare into space sometimes, and look at the moments (big and small) that have made me who and what I am right now, I keep coming back to these pillars that define my life; while there are tons of scenes and people and stuff that makes up my life, each can actually be “categorized” under one of just a few pillars.
Trust: This is one I keep coming back to. It is a pillar of my life. It is the source of so many of my lessons, including some of the very toughest. For me, so much stems from trust. Fully loving, exposing my truth, going with my gut, allowing myself to shine — ALL of it is, ultimately, about trust. In me, in you, in the process that is my life.
“When mistrust comes in, love goes out” ~ Irish Saying
And now, maybe for the first time, I’m starting to get it. To recognize not only that this trust thing is one of the great lessons of my life, but to start to start to also see why it is one of the great lessons of my life.
Trust is a choice, and I choose it.
Everything is either love or fear, right? I don’t know about you, but I prefer love.
Not sure if I will perfect it, but I know I am on my way to getting it right.
So, what about you? When you look at the threads of your life, what do you see? What are your great life lessons? What are your pillars? What do you choose?
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