“Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life?”
This Biblical gem, from Matthew 6:25, gave me a stout, pro-trust whack on the head this morning. Raised as an old-guard Episcopalian who now doesn’t go to church, I don’t turn to the Good Book much, but this stopped me short today. I’ll take my inspiration from anywhere, and this observation really does stop any argument in its tracks.
In the last few weeks, by challenging myself to be less fearful, I’ve added a burden to my days as I tussle it out inside me. In one hand, I’m holding fear, the memory of difficult times, now fused into my way of being.
Over there in the other corner, I’ve got my other hand on the challenger. This newcomer isn’t even trust; it’s the idea of trust that I’m trying to grasp; the willingness to learn how trust works.
I’m finding that not only do I have to let go of fear once, but then I have to decide to do it again. And again. And again. Because each situation, each minute, is a different maze to navigate, a maze where fear already knows the way. And I see that for me, fear feels realistic, and that goofy upstart there in the other corner, trust, feels foolishly optimistic.
Because this quote has been a divine spear of logic for thousands of years, my inner warrior relaxes. He’s the one who says, “Explore all this woo-woo stuff as much as you like. When it comes right down to it, intense hypervigilance is the only way to stay safe.”
But he also understands when he’s been bested. I feel him standing down, leaning back and putting his feet on the table, declaring, “Well, you have a point. If I can’t make a big difference right now, I’ll take a breather.”
If he can, maybe I can too.
This post is part of a series of posts on trust, based on the 21-Day Salutes originated by blogger Colleen Wainwright. The intention is to write daily to help shift a habit. Originally, she had been told that it takes 21 days of new behavior to change a habit. She has since found out that it is apparently takes much longer. Oh well….