January 27, 2012.
Trust is only five letters but it’s a big word. How do we trust anything in a world that offers impermanence as the few things we can truly count on?
Most of us resist the idea of impermanence. We believe that in order to trust there have to be some guarantees. At the very least, we want confirmation that our next step is going to put us where we want to be or get us what we think we should have.
We want to trust so badly that we’ll pretend we have guarantees or at least that it’s possible to have them. We’ll go to great lengths to maintain that illusion. We do it with relationships, and cars, and jobs. We find the perfect model, and we breathe a huge sigh of relief. We’re done. He’s/she’s/it’s mine now. Forever.
But then they leave, or the car is a lemon, or the job doesn’t need us anymore. Which brings us back to the reality of what we can trust.
We can feel confident that what we have in this moment is real, and ours for the taking. If we’ll appreciate it for what it is. A moment. To be experienced — tasted, full-body hugged, cherished and then let go — to make room for the next one.