Trust Me. I Trust Me.

Last year I made a decision about trust, or really a series of decisions that led me to re-think how I approach building trust with others and how I manage to trust myself first. 

I’ll explain how my relationship with the concept of trust has changed, but I’ll start with the reason it needed to change; with what compelled me to redefine how I would live my life.

It began with compassion, with a sincere desire for others to have the greatest possible lives; to flourish and experience joy. That, in turn, started by developing self-compassion and a deeper understanding and forgiveness of my flaws. 

I’ve written often about the benefits of meditation, usually couched in terms of increased productivity, enhanced focus and perception. While those aspects of the potential benefits of meditation are valid, they are not really exposing the underlying truth – that meditation is a path to compassion. I’m not sure if I have the right words to explain the depth of compassion I mean, or if I can give a comprehensive explanation of why every other benefit comes from that foundation, but I suspect you cannot connect with it deeply unless you first learn to feel love and practice kindness with yourself.

“The cry we hear from deep in our hearts comes from the wounded child within. Healing this inner child’s pain is the key to transforming anger, sadness, and fear.” - Thich Nhat Hanh

It’s really quite uncomfortable to examine yourself closely – to inspect the desires and fears we have, and then dig into how they came into being and what they say about us as people. Meditation doesn’t lessen that discomfort, but it does create a somewhat safer, kinder space in which to have those very difficult conversations with ourselves. What you will almost certainly find, buried somewhere underneath years of misdirection, are the wounds of your childhood; the bruises and cuts never quite healed; the scabbed over skin that will be red and itchy when it is exposed.

Your Inner Child Is What Keeps You Vulnerable

This inner child exists even if you were lucky enough to experience a joyful, untroubled childhood, because it is the part of your mind that remains vulnerable at all times – the part that enables curiosity, excitement, and enhances your ability to feel joy and wonder (the way only an innocent child can). When you’re young it is a much larger presence in your psyche, assuming more of a background role, with the occasional star turn as you learn and adapt to the pressures of the adult world. To be the truly young experiencing self you need, this inner child must feel the pain and fear of every rejection, taunt, slight, sarcastic comment, or dismissive look that comes your way. And so the process of being wounded and the need to heal continues throughout your life. Without conscious attention those wounds never fully heal, and in some cases they fester and infect our lives with further negative emotion, aggravating the wounds. 

When you hold that inner child with love and kindness, with honesty and compassion, you are beginning a healing process that allows you to forgive yourself and others, and to wish for a life that is open and joyful. From that comes compassion for all other living things, because once you have decided to love yourself so completely it is unbearable to think of anyone else trapped in pain, sadness, or anger.

I reached that point last year, and I can be honest and say that it hasn’t stopped me from making further mistakes and from forgetting who I am and why I exist from time to time. But it did require me to re-think how I must approach others in the world if I plan to live a compassionate wholehearted life – and this is where my curious experiment with trust began.

“All suffering, without exception, is born from a mind which seeks happiness for oneself. Whereas perfect enduring happiness arises from a mind which seeks only to benefit others” – Buddhist proverb

Building trust in relationships is widely acknowledged as a process of small steps, where boundaries are respected, generosity and integrity are displayed, and reliability and accountability are verified. I decided that I would no longer take small steps; that I would instead take a huge leap of faith, in every direction, all at once.

It didn’t happen overnight, but when it did happen it certainly came all at once as far as the outside world was concerned. What I needed was a foundation of self-trust, a place to begin. That ability to trust in myself, not blindly, but methodically and requiring validation at each step, has proven to be one of two ingredients needed to remain open and exposed to anyone and everyone I manage to connect with. The other ingredient also comes from self-compassion, and from continually returning to the act of healing the wounds of my inner child. It is the cultivation of an absence of fear. Like many others I’ve spent the greater part of my life scared of something – usually scared of losing it, or of somehow not being enough to deserve it in the first place. Philosophy and meditation helped me understand that I am always enough. We all are. These disciplines also taught me the great comedy that underlies our desire to hold on so tightly to what we have once we have it. Now, instead, I enjoy what I have, and I enjoy it more fully and with more wonder than ever in the past, because I know it may be lost at any moment, that it was never mine to own, and that it makes room for whatever comes next. 

What does trust look like in relationships with others?

And here’s how it shows up in my relationship with others. I trust them. Right from the start, from before I even know who they want or claim to be. I assume that they are wonderful, beautiful, exceptional human beings, who may also be flawed, tragic, suffering, and in pain. And I withhold judgement and remain curious, and I share with them openly and honestly. All my thoughts and feelings are theirs to inspect at will. 

I suspect that when reading this you will either think it sounds amazing or like naïve stupidity. But here’s the thing. It works. It even works when it doesn’t. When I bounce off someone who isn’t prepared for this level of trust, who feels compelled to test the boundary, I come back even stronger, prepared to love them regardless of how quickly they have put claws and teeth into my unarmoured soul. And the result so far is a thawing of resistance, and stronger relationships than I would’ve believed possible a few years earlier.

“If you would be loved, love” – Heraclitus

It’s ironic in a way, that I have lived impatiently for so much of my life, and in discovering that meditation is a cure for impatience I have uncovered the ultimate short-cut to building rewarding trusting relationships; I have rebuilt love in homage to impatient people everywhere!

So, my call to arms is simple. If you would be loved, then love others. Openly and completely, without a need for repayment or reward. Unconditionally, regardless of sex, religion, stature or status. Without lust or desire, without expectation, but intentionally and fully as if their happiness and well-being mattered more than life itself. If you can move the smallest step closer to that vision, you can change your life for the better, you can change the world. 

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About the Author:

KYLE RICHARDSON

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