Returning to the truck, water squished between my toes inside the hiking boots that once, years ago, bore a waterproof tag. The torn and worn beyond comfortable jeans are soaked from the rain jacket down. Rain water dripped from my bangs into my eyes. I was literally soaked from the top of my head to the soles of my feet and haven’t felt that refreshed in a long time.
Yesterday, after waking up from my second nap of the day, my body begged for movement. Working my backyard garden in the rain is a common practice, but not what I was craving. I wanted longer strides to my steps. A raising of the heart rate. A hike on one of the nearby Nature Preserve trails. The gentle summer sprinkle turned to rain and as the first few steps were firmly placed on the path it began to pour.
The 1.3 mile trail is marked by a well-traveled path. Signs are not necessary here. The aroma of wet cedar, birch trees, grasses, wild flowers and countless other plant life exhilarated my sense of smell. The entrance is in a thick cluster of cedar trees leading the adventurer to an area where, this time of the year, the thick brush is almost taller than the five feet five inches I claim. The corridor weaves to the left, then the right and at points I am unable to see more than a few feet ahead of me. This was when the phrase a friend offered to me to ponder returned from memory. He said, “Trust in the trust of trusting.”
Read the line again. “Trust in the trust of trusting.” The meaning, for me, is profound when repeated aloud and becomes even more so each time I repeat it internally. It’s easy to say we trust something, however to believe and feel the unconditional faith is forever evolving. To relax and be free of the need to control a situation or circumstance. The thought, “If you want to hear God laugh, tell him your plans,” just now crossed my mind.
Approaching another tight corner I trusted the path would lead me safely to the clearing I know is ahead. Something seemed different. A sense of unfamiliarity. I've walked this trail countless times, in all sorts of weather conditions; under blue skies, trees swayin’ in the harsh fall winds, snow up past my knees. For a new-comer walking this particular part of the path where the tree branches hang low and the bush full of red berries have overgrown the space may pose intimidation and the sense of the claustrophobia. A choice will be made to either trust the path is safe or be convinced by internal forces to turn back towards the vehicle with the intent to try a different day.
The deeper into the swampland I got the more I understood how my emotions accurately measure the level of trust. I know I will be okay. I know that everything has its season and it always works out. But this refers to the future, what about right now? How do I feel about work, my relationships, my financial situation? At what level am I trusting that in this moment I am being taken care of by the Universe? Am trying to control it? Am I, as the saying goes, giving it to the angels and God to handle? Or am I holding myself back from the joy I wish to experience? What am I allowing life to be?
Pausing on one of the sturdy wooden bridges, I watched the creek flow effortlessly towards the lake. The temptation to release tears of frustration was there, yet something lit up inside my heart and I knew instantly everything is bliss. Life is good. A little further down the trail, as I wiped the rain off my face again, I giggled at the thought, I trust the waterproof mascara will hold up under the rain.
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