I Can Only Trust The Unknown.

For The Known Cannot Be Trusted.

A friend of mine asked me the other day: “How do you trust?”

A part of me wanted to say, “I just do.” But it feels deeper than that.

The big discomfort of today’s reality, it seems, comes from the fact that we have advanced technology, science, and research that can explain almost anything. I wonder if knowing gives us a sense of security, albeit a false one, because we really don’t know much at all.

We know what we know. We know what we don’t know. But the rest? We have no idea... the vast unknown unknowns. Makes sense?

Some of us are insatiable for knowledge, and some have filled their minds so much they believe they “know it all,” constantly educating others on this fact or that one.

I see it as a form of control. And again, as a form of repression of inherent feminine qualities: the void, the absence of knowing, the trusting of intuition, the gut.

We base decisions on data points, statistics, opinions, previous results, predictive modelling. And we base very little on intuition.

A friend of mine, a scientist at Cambridge University, told me he and his partner work in perfect balance: he uses his intuitive mind to establish a hypothesis, and his partner applies a more pragmatic approach to create the mathematical models that test it. It’s not that he never works with the numbers, but in their partnership his skill leans toward the feminine quality of sensing, and his partner’s toward the masculine quality of structuring.

And of course, the principles of feminine and masculine have nothing to do with gender.

So it seems there are two types of knowing: knowing through feeling and knowing through learning. And it is both still knowing.

In Japan, there is a cultural value placed on checking in with the gut before making a decision: a nod to what they call haragei, “the art of the belly.” In neuroscience, the gut is often called our “second brain” because of the dense network of neurons it holds. And while the heart does not have as many neurons as the brain or gut, research shows it has its own nervous system and sends powerful signals to the brain. Something many traditions have long recognised as the wisdom of the heart.

Not knowing what will happen tomorrow, or even the next second, is both our biggest fear and our greatest opportunity.

Looking back, we see what we have let go of. Sometimes we even cross paths again with people or lives we once shared and no longer do. That can be painful, especially if the path we have stepped onto is winding.

The not knowing gives us a sense that things are out of our control. Breaking news: they were never in our control in the first place, but we love to entertain the illusion.

So where did we learn that knowing is the condition for trusting?

Some people trust until proven otherwise. Others wait to trust until they have proof, as if such proof could exist. But we never truly know another person. And if we expect someone to fail our trust tests, they probably will.

Which makes me wonder... when we don’t trust others, the world, or life at large, is it simply a sign that we don’t trust ourselves?

We don’t trust our own capacity of discernment?

How do I trust myself? Sometimes I do, sometimes I don’t. But in the moments I don’t, I look back over my life, the places I have lived, the people I have known, and remember that I am still breathing, I still have a roof over my head and I am still eating and drinking clean water.

I also need to inject some hard truths to this because I am doing much more than surviving, and yet it does not quite feel like thriving.

I had a realisation: these last four years have felt like stepping off the wheel of a thriving life. My intention has been to create my own way of thriving and I am not doing bad at all (there is no good or bad in my world view).

But sometimes when I come in contact with the wheel thrivers, I feel a ping of sadness, maybe of frustration even to show the signs that would speak to a “thriver.”

And I know it is all my own projection, what I would have deemed then as thriving is different to now. At the time thriving was earning big money, getting the bonus, going on the beautiful holiday with my partner and going to nice restaurants with my friends, nights out clubbing and losing my mind, and buying into the latest trends.

Whilst I miss my old self I also don’t miss her. I am living most of her dreams and yet they don’t always feel enough. I get to be in the sea almost daily and meet and share moments with fascinating people.

I know I cannot control what happens tomorrow. I know my own mind, doubts, and fears have more influence over the future than any “knowing.” And I know that whatever happens, I will be okay, still breathing, until I am not.

So perhaps trust is not in knowing, but in leaning into the unknown.

I choose trust over fear.
I choose love.
I choose authenticity.

Because really, deep down this is all I have.

Today, I was “window shopping” and the two boutiques I walked into I stayed for almost 30 minutes having deep mind expanding conversations. I realised, this is why I live. And both people told me they felt happier after they spoke with me. I don’t take credit for this. To me it is what happens when we recharge by speaking with someone. In the end, this is what life is about. Nice conversations with nice people. I trust everything is unfolding as it should in my direct life and this is so that I can truly feel safe to take the risks and lead in a way that invites change into this world.

But this last point is for another post.

Photo by Micah & Sammie Chaffin on Unsplash