I think many times we mistake broken trust (or the earning of trust) as singular moments. Probably, because those bits of life are the peaks of our vulnerability. And we are so ready to be let down, misunderstood, or betrayed.
But with the right person, one who has proven again and again that they will forgive our faults and demonstrated a sincere, perpetual determination to improve theirs, those seemingly singular, petrifying moments turn into regular trust exercises – the slow and steady practice that transforms a couple into a graceful, artistic weave of two inner self-reliant individuals.
There is nothing needy, clingy, or manipulative about a devoted couple (however that looks). If you unwind the braid, the individuals are still intact, still a work of art. Yet together they form a stronger human fabric, more interesting and beautiful. They are a dedicated pair, an exquisite tapestry, patiently woven over time.
And like the video says, trust frees our minds of unnecessary worries and stress. It allows us to focus on what is most important, most fulfilling, and most worth our time and attention.
Alya and Gael have to trust each other. As acrobats in Cirque du Soleil, they sometimes literally put their lives in someone else’s hands.
Trust is a confusing thing. It seems so simple, but when you try and pin it down, it can be illusive. I think of the way that my body sits on a surface that’s new to me, unknown, and how my muscles remain tight, anticipating anything and I’m constantly aware of that surface. Over time, with familiarity, I can relax and start to lean back.
For many of us, that initial tension exists so much of the time. We expend so much energy watching and calculating, trying to predict, reading signals in people, ready for anything to change suddenly, preparing to be disappointed – so much energy spent.
We talk about trust as something we build, as if it’s a structure or a thing; but in that building there seems to be something about letting go.
And what it affords us is a luxury. It allows us to stop thinking, to stop worrying that someone won’t catch us if we fall, to stop constantly scanning for inconsistencies, to stop wondering how other people act when they’re not in our presence. It allows us to relax a part of our minds, so that we can focus on what’s in front of us, and that’s why it’s such a tragedy when it’s broken.
A betrayal can make you think of all the other betrayals that are waiting for you and things you haven’t thought of and people you rely on. And you can feel yourself tightening up, bracing; and in the worst cases, you might resolve to trust no one.
But that doesn’t really work.
Trust is your relationship to the unknown, what you can’t control. And you can’t control everything.
And it’s not all or none. It’s a slow and steady practice of learning about the capacity of the world. And it’s worth it to keep trying. And it’s not easy.
Alya says that trust is like a fork – not one way, but many ways: physical, emotional, and maybe something else.
I almost imagine trust as these invisible hands that we stretch out into the world, looking for something to hold onto as we walk into the unknown future.
Alya and Gael began practicing together as friends and now they are a couple. It took time.
So who do you trust and how can you grow it?