Practising trust

What we uncover from the repeated practice of letting go and, ultimately, cultivating trust.

Like many of us, I find flying in an aeroplane a bit unsettling. The lack of control physically and the need to surrender fully is a powerful lesson, though. When you can accept completely what you have agency over in the moment - your thoughts, feelings, actions (and not those of others!) - it creates an opportunity to lean into trust, which makes space to enjoy an experience that you otherwise wouldn’t have had the capacity to extract joy from.

Flying above the myriad shapes and sizes and hues of the clouds, witnessing an incredibly scenic view of the land on which you previously traversed and the waters through which you swam (snow-capped mountains, azure blue sea!), having literally nowhere to go or nowhere to be, nothing but rest and relaxation required of you (depending on who you are flying with and what your responsibilities are in life) … when I meet those parts of the experience fully, the nerves take a back seat. I can sink a bit deeper into my seat, squeeze my husband’s hand out of excitement rather than nerves, and soften my belly and jaw.

I write about this notion of letting go to meet the present moment in every Substack story - just in a different context each time - but I guess it shows that the theme is something I’m finding valuable in my life - and perhaps in your life too. It’s human nature to cling to what feels comfortable, safe, familiar. But this is just a short-circuit habit our brain has created that doesn’t always serve us. This is the nature of the brain - it’s constantly predicting the next moment based on what has happened in the past. This function of the brain is incredibly helpful (thank you, brain!) … until it’s not. And when we contemplate the notion of mindfulness - it’s almost as though the modus operandi of the brain is a dichotomy of sorts.

When you’re travelling and experiencing so many new things - from eating different cuisine to walking new paths to speaking another language - perhaps predicting is less valuable and surrendering to what is present here and now can offer more insight, meaning and, ultimately, joy in each moment.

I’m writing these reflections on the plane from Milan to Santorini. We’ve had the most amazing few weeks exploring France and Italy, creating precious memories I’ll hold in my heart forever. But there have also been moments that I’ve struggled to let go - which has created tension not just in my body and mind, but has also had a ripple effect on Lachie. The missing piece, in hindsight, was trust. Another repeated theme in my life …

If I could go back in time, I would cultivate trust that the plane will land safely, that we will reach the ferry dock in time, that I won’t twist my dodgy knee on the hike, that Lachie won’t fall off the steep cliff, that I won’t have an allergic reaction to the wine, that the storm won’t arrive when we’re on the mountain peak or in the open meadow, that I will be safe walking down the street alone, that the restaurant will find a table for us, that our apartment won’t get broken into, that the love of my life will be okay riding a bike without a helmet … my goodness, just reading this list makes me laugh - the worries that fill my mind! It’s okay for these to exist but as we enter the final 10 days of the most precious holiday as newlyweds, I want to make more space for joy, lightness, laughter, spontaneity and, perhaps most importantly, peace with things not always going to plan!

Every time I strengthen the muscle of trust, I stand a little taller, breathe more gently, soften my face and cultivate a sense of empowerment that I can carry into the next moment, and the next. Trust expands us in the most enriching ways.

In our wedding vows, Lachie and I promised each other to share a life of adventure. In the context of our honeymoon, this means the quite literal examples just as much as the more subtle or intangible manifestations. I’ve danced (uncomfortably!) with this notion of adventure so far by moving through internal resistance - jumping off a ledge into the sea in Cinque Terre, going on a cable car up to a snowy mountain peak in the Dolomites - but there were also times that I said no to adventure out of fear. That’s okay - because being compassionate to our struggles is how we overcome them - but I can learn from these experiences so that next time, I can meet an opportunity with courage, excitement and trust.

When I next notice fear arise in my body through constriction in my breath, shoulders or face, I have an opportunity to pause, reclaim trust and let go. Maybe it’s riding on a motorbike with my husband through a Greek island, sailing in the Aegean Sea or simply not letting the fear of a potential earthquake, tsunami or landslide get in the way of me completely enjoying our honeymoon. Trust isn’t about things not going to plan - it’s about knowing that you can handle whatever happens. And who knows - perhaps there’s something even greater than what my brain could have predicted on the other side? Let’s find out …