Can I Trust Again?

There was turbulence on the flight, and even though I have spent years learning how safe flying is and working on my fear of flying, I still felt anxious when the plane started shaking. But in that moment, I could feel something inside me reassuring me that everything was fine.

It felt like a web, or a net, stretching across everything in existence. This web was a place to fall back into, a feeling of "everything is okay." It felt like "everything is working out perfectly," like there is safety, abundance, and beauty all around. It felt peaceful, almost heavenly, as if everything is connected and unfolding in a good way.

But I couldn’t fully embrace that feeling. I kept focusing on the bumps in the air.

I kept seeing that net again and thinking, “I want to trust you,” but also, “I can’t because it is too bumpy.”

In that moment, I realized something important: I was waiting for something to make me trust it. I was waiting for the feeling of trust to wash over me, like being tucked into bed by a loving parent. I wanted proof that I could trust, or at least to be shown how to trust it. I was waiting for trust to happen to me.

It was like I stood at a crossroads. One path was filled with my thoughts, habits, and patterns. It was my mind focusing on the bumps of the flight—the rattles and shakes—and my big thought was, "This is not safe. I cannot trust this."

Then, slightly hidden, there was another path. It was old, wise, and felt safe in a way that I couldn’t even describe. It was a safety so deep that the idea of not being safe didn’t even exist.

With all those other thoughts and the "evidence" right in front of me (the turbulence), I had to actively choose the other path. I had to focus on the net that runs through everything—the feeling of goodness, love, joy, and the unfolding of life.

I had to ignore the bumps and choose to focus on that, despite everything.

I am not sure why, but this time, I was able to do it.

What happened next was amazing: I had no idea when the turbulence stopped. Once I decided to trust, I couldn’t even tell if the bumps were still there. It didn’t matter anymore.

I picture the net like a golden web of light running through everything. It is always there, connecting everything. Here we are, holding on to the trapeze of our thoughts, our minds, and our ideas of how the world works. The net is always there. All we have to do is let go and trust it to catch us.

The problem is, you can’t see it clearly because you are focused so much on your thoughts—on how you think the world is. We often believe that if we can figure out the right thoughts or find the right answers, we will be able to trust. But that’s not how it works.

If I had tried to think my way into trust, I would never have gotten there.

If I had waited for something outside of me to push me into trust, I would still be waiting.

Instead, I decided to ignore my fearful thoughts and emotions, my nervous system, and all the overwhelming feelings of anxiety. I turned towards trust, not because I needed to be good or worthy of it, but because I chose to focus on it right in that moment, without waiting for anything else to change first.