Revisiting Trust

Deer Showing Trust – Photo: L. Weikel

Trust. Again.

One of my favorite topics.

A day doesn’t go by when I’m not asked to exercise it in some capacity or another. It used to be that I would only have to consciously choose to ‘trust’ some days. Not every day. But now that I’ve embarked upon my 1111 Devotion odyssey, I’m faced with the responsibility of choosing to trust every single day or else risk breaching my commitment, my act of devotion, to Karl.

I’m not talking about mundane acts of trust, either, like the ones we all engage in every day simply by choosing to live in society, such as trusting that people are going to obey traffic laws or trusting the food I buy at the grocery store isn’t going to kill me.

No, I’m talking about choices that can be significantly important not only to myself, but to others.

Different Types and Different Levels of Trust

For instance, when I have a session with a client, I never know what’s going to be asked of me. I never know what, exactly, I am going to be asked by that client’s soul to do for that person. So every time I have a session with someone, which is not every day of every week, obviously, I am asked to trust that I will know what to do for my client’s highest and best outcome. And beyond that, I need to trust that the timing is correct.

Some days that means I need to journey to retrieve a lost soul part – an aspect of my client that has taken refuge in a safe place because it no longer felt safe here in this ‘Middle World,’ which in Quechua is known as the ‘Kaypacha.’ Sometimes it means journeying to find an ally, perhaps a power animal or a guide that takes the form of some other life form (not an animal), including perhaps a Being that appears in the form of a person. In all of these situations, I’m asked to trust. Trust what I’m told; trust what I’m shown; trust that even if it makes no sense to me, I am to relay it.

Every time I meet with a client I am asked to trust my role as messenger. And that is a role I consider essential and sacred. And sometimes requires the utmost delicacy.

I’m also asked to trust that what I ‘get’ is actually what my client truly needs. For instance, sometimes I’m told/shown or otherwise nudged into awareness that my client may have picked up a ‘hitchhiker.’ (I refer to these instances this way because otherwise, due to cultural prejudices, I might freak people out.) Nevertheless, if I’m shown that a hitchhiker might be present, I have to trust what I’m shown enough to bring the subject up, even if the idea of it might unsettle them at first.

That’s a Lot of Trust

It’s funny. When I did a search of my blog posts to see which ones contained references to ‘trust,’ 29 different entries came up. Wow! I knew I’d discussed trust before, but I honestly didn’t realize just how important this concept is to me – and as I perused them, how varied an array of instances exists in which trust plays a huge part in the way I live my life.

So, I will cut to the chase. Believe it or not, the silly post I wrote yesterday also has to do with trust. Yes, the missive from I.M. Carrot, Emissary of the Kingdom of Vegetable, was a direct result of me exercising trust: specifically, the trust I am now bound to exercise every single night: trusting that I will have something to write about.

I Never Know Where the Next Idea Will Sprout

When I found myself pulling the industrial-sized bag of organic carrots out of our refrigerator Sunday afternoon, I can assure you, I only had peeling a couple and dipping them in Buffalo-style spiced hummus on my mind. I was not thinking about what I would write that evening.

But there I was. Face to face with a carrot worthy of its own back story. Worthy of being christened with its own name, for heaven’s sake!

And I guarantee – as I stated at the end of my post last night – that carrot looks exactly as it did when I pulled it from the bag. I did not augment the appearance of its eyes with a little ‘Sharpie Shadow.’ I did not alter it in any way whatsoever. No. And while I did take a photo of it, I did not think it would end up starring in its own show.

But there you have it. I promise you, every single night is an Act of Trust that a seed of an idea will drop into my mind and sprout a thread for me to weave into something – even a silly fantasy about vegetables– that will entertain you for a few minutes each day.

It’s only because of my devotion to the memory of my eldest son that I’m trusting this process. Every. Single. Night. I love you, Karl.