Trust

I run into mistrust regularly. It feels like a bad old friend- comes and goes when it pleases, but I still open the door to its invitations. Needless to say, it never feels warm and cozy but rather distant and neurotic. How do we build trust with our family, lovers, friends, and the world. What is trust? I have gotten to know that trust appears and grows when I feel safe and protected in the company of the person I am with. Like I feel it in my being that there is integrity and complete openness between us. There is unconditional love. That is the purest form of love. Mary Magdalene and Jesus loved each other unconditionally. That I have faith in. My heart yearns to be able to exhale and fall into trust. No more stories in the mind, just utter surrender to love. I work at it diligently. Every time she knocks on the door with her other partners in crime (resentment, anger, vengeance), I sit with her until she relaxes. I give her love and everything else she needs to alchemize. Is it just on me though? What if I give her all I have, and she still comes to visit, maybe I have to look into her red flags. What if she is there to help me see. See where I need to set a boundary, examine my own needs, or strengthen my own inner compass and invite honesty and alignment in a relationship. In these cases, mistrust comes as a gift. She isn’t meant to be a permanent home, but it can be a doorway — a teacher that guides you toward self-respect, deeper truth, and more nourishing connections.

What about the adage, “Trust the process”?

In truth, what you are trusting is not the process itself, but God. It is the faith that if you are patient and consistent, God will guide you forward. Trust is about releasing control—falling back into something greater than yourself. And yes, that can feel disorienting, even dizzying, because it requires letting go of expectations. Yet the simple formula for happiness is this: reality over expectations. When we release the way we think life should unfold, we begin to notice the quiet beauty of how it actually does. The present moment carries us—soft, weightless, like feathers on the breeze.

In the end, trust is not a passive waiting, but an active opening. It is the willingness to place our weight on something unseen and let it carry us. Trust is the bridge between our small self and the vastness of God’s love. When we practice trust, we begin to notice that life is already moving us toward what is meant—sometimes slower than we wish, sometimes in ways we don’t understand.

But always, we are held. Always, we are guided.

So perhaps the invitation is simple: take the next step, breathe into the present, and let yourself be carried.