Lessons in Trust — Letting Go of the Need to Know
I’ve found that Trust is not a state I achieve once and hold forever. It’s a practice, a way of being.
When fear rises in my heart—grieving the world’s confusion, questioning my ability or intentions, whispering scarcity and doubt—I pause.
This is the invitation. Not to resist, but to remember: I am not the thought. I am the one who observes the thought. And from this place, I choose how to love it.
When uncertainty rises, my work is not to control or resolve. My work is to return to trust. To soften. To become still enough that I can hear the inner voice—quiet, certain, and full of love—guiding me back to truth.
“Some changes look negative on the surface but you will soon realize that space is being created in your life for something new to emerge.” — Eckhart Tolle
It’s tempting to assign meaning when life feels hard. To make assumptions or label circumstances as punishment, failure, or evidence that we’ve fallen out of favor or alignment. But the deeper invitation isn’t to interpret or fix. It’s to be present and listen.
To love what is, even when it doesn’t yet make sense or fit into what we’ve outlined. To watch for the lessons. To witness strength deepening.
“The mind wants to understand. The heart is made to trust.” — Michael A. Singer
So I practice.
I notice the tendency to live a moment before it happens—to rehearse outcomes, defend against pain, brace for impact. But this isn’t trust. Trust is living each moment only once, as it unfolds.
This isn’t passivity. It’s presence. It’s choosing curiosity over control. It’s remembering that friction is often the signal of something sacred being born—like a seed pushing through the soil or a baby taking its first breath.
In the middle of difficulty, it’s nearly impossible to see the whole story. Often, the hardest chapters of our lives carry the greatest lessons, but they only reveal themselves in time.
I’ve learned these lessons through scarcity and fear more times than I’d like to admit. But each time, faith finds me a little faster. Each time, I discover a new layer of grace.
“Faith is the bird that feels the light and sings when the dawn is still dark.” — Rabindranath Tagore
So I stop.
I notice the tension in my body and let it go. I breathe into the quiet. I remember that I am held. That I am not the Doer.
I choose gratitude for what is here, now. The gentle kindness of a smile. A softening of the timeline. A moment of tender connection.
When reason fails to deliver an easy answer, I yield. I let go of the scurrying narratives in my mind, and soften into the warmth of the quiet heart.
This is the presence Jesus spoke of when he said, “The kingdom of God is within you.” Everything we are and need is within to expect and discover.
Trust is not the absence of doubt. It’s the faith to know that Love is there in the middle of uncertainty. It’s not needing to know the ending before offering your whole heart.
It’s surrendering not just the outcome, but the meaning.
We often don’t understand the lessons until we’ve lived through them. The full story takes time to reveal itself.
The voice within — the one that is inseparable from Love — never leaves. It reminds us that we get to choose how this moment lands in our hearts.
So when things feel uncertain, I turn to wonder. I lean into curiosity. I ask open questions. I listen for the whisper that says, “You are not alone. You are being led. Trust the unfolding.”
“Live each moment completely and the future will take care of itself.” —Yogananda
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