Trust

A friend recently asked me to help him through the issue of trust, and the challenges he was having trusting people. I blithely responded as someone “on the path” “Oh. I trust everyone”. However, in a later conversation with him I found myself musing and questioning the whole thing of TRUST as I started to think about and explore it.

What is TRUST? The dictionary tells us that it is confidence in and reliance on the integrity or actions of a person or thing. We know that it is an essential part of any relationship, no matter how fleeting, be it at work, in our family, with our intimate partner, with friends and passing acquaintances. We can go further to say it is an essential part of love – for we cannot truly love without trust. In our common usage, trust therefore speaks to how we relate to people. This leads to a challenge that most of us face – we believe that people have to earn our trust. We therefore withhold our trust until the other person earns it. And what do we mean by earning our trust? That the person will act in a way that is in alignment with our expectations and desires of how we believe they should act. Do you see that we are setting up a situation that is BOUND to fail? That is bound to result in so-called betrayal? For who in this world acts in the ways we want them to? Indeed, it is difficult even for us to act in ways that are consistent with own desires and expectations, much less the desires and expectations of others!

Could we have this thing of trust all wrong? Perhaps there is no need to trust anyone. Perhaps there is no need to invest trust in any single person. Maybe, the essence of trust is not person-centred, but is essence or Universe-centred. This occurred to me as I think of another friend who is an example of joy and ease in life. Her mantra, which is peppered throughout all her conversations, is “the Universe is unfolding as it should”. Is it then that we should just trust the enfoldment of our lives? That it is not “I trust you Marguerite”: it is simply “I trust”, meaning: “I trust that my life is enfolding as it should”? For your trust has NOTHING to do with me. I am simply there at that moment as a part of the unfolding of your life.

Let’s take an example – if we are in a physically threatening situation, our trust is not about “I trust so-and-so to save me” or “I trust that so-and-so will protect me” or “I trust that so-and-so will do what I think is right” – it is “I trust that the Universe is unfolding as it should”. So, many people report that a physically threatening situation has literally evaporated at the moment when they let go, let God and surrendered to a higher power. That is the same as trusting the universe to “unfold as it should”.

And what do I mean that the Universe is unfolding as it should? It is not the Universe itself that is unfolding – for the Universe just IS. What is unfolding is our greater and greater awareness of our oneness, our connection with it. It is as if the mango seed is realising that it is the mango tree. The mango seed trusts that it will become a tree, for it knows that it already has everything within it perfectly coded to BE a tree. Therefore, it knows that it already IS the mango tree. The mango seed simply allows its tree to unfold – as it should, as it certainly will and must.

For me therefore, trust is a deep knowing that all is well. It is a deep and abiding belief in the orderliness of the Universe – despite “evidence” to the contrary. It is a deep belief in the orderliness of our lives – no matter the “evidence” or the “reality” that we see. It is a deep and abiding belief that the unfolding of the universe is one of magnificence, power, love and beauty, and that my universe, my life is unfolding exactly as it should – the “should” of my life being magnificence, power, love and beauty. There is no need to trust anyone for this. There is only a need to trust that everything and everyone is unfolding as it should.

Love like a dog

I have always had dogs in my life, as my father was a great lover of dogs. Bonding time with Daddy was about bathing the dogs and picking ticks (strange but true)! Puppies were always welcomed into our home, with the only condition being that my sister and I had to do all the care, feeding and cleaning up.

My first dog was Sheba, a pink-nosed, mutt-puppy I found when I was about 9 years old, on the sidewalk outside my school. I recall vividly taking her home and begging Mummy, with tears, to let me keep her. “But how would you like it if your mother had died and someone found you and then gave you away” I argued. We kept her.

I have had many dogs since then. I remember adopting a dog when I was at university in Trinidad. Or perhaps the dog adopted me. She followed me everywhere. I was devastated when I returned for final year to hear that the dog catchers had taken her away.

I babysat a dog for 2 years – a beautiful golden cocker spaniel named Sandy. His owners had gone away and left him with my sister and me. I was devastated again, the day her owner came, without notice or thanks, and took him back.

I also remember Gizmo, my Corgi – last seen chasing down a dog in heat in Cassava Piece! I spent a week driving up and down looking for Gizmo. My friend Phillip would pick me up at 11.30 p.m. and we would drive around for an hour or two into the wee hours of the morning looking for Gizmo, slowly cruising through nearby communities, shining flashlights up dark lanes. Another friend Robert and I drove and walked all over the neighbourhood every day for a week looking for him. To this day when I see a tri-colour corgi, I wonder …

And then there was Nala – the sweetest Shih Tzu-Poodle mix. I was away when she disappeared. I still remember calling home and Victoria, then 4 years old, saying “Mummy, bad men took Nala”. How helpless I felt, powerless to do anything to find her, being so far away.

One day, Pablo, my sister Carole’s boyfriend, brought Minnie to her at 6 weeks old. She was blind and dying as her mother had rejected her. Carole nursed her to health and she lived for 17 years, despite the vet saying that we were wasting our money and she wouldn’t live for more than 3 months! She was just a sweetheart! She produced 2 adorable litters, and was the most attentive and caring mother. When I moved to my current home with lots of land space, Minnie came to live with us. In her later years, she lived at the front of the house, always there whenever I drove in to welcome me home.

I even have a running dog – there is this wonderful dog that meets me many mornings as I run through Manor Park. She runs down the road with me, stops and turns back for the next set of runners. Funnily enough, despite a group of us running, I am the one that she relates to.

Now, Mufasa, the male rottie/ridgeback, lives with four females: the three Shi-Tzu-poodle princesses – Cloud, Betti and Itsy - as well as Daisy, the mutt from the animal shelter. An hour or two after I brought the 6-week Daisy home, Victoria called me “Mummy, we have decided what we want to call the puppy. We love her so much we are going to name her after Grandma”. Grandma is still trying to get over that one, but recognizes the love of her grandchildren in that act.

And then there was Purlie. Purlie was Itsy’s daughter – the smallest one in her litter of seven perfect puppies that were born last year January. Purlie was full of life and fun. She had the most adorable face, and the cutest little bark. She was the first to greet me at my car door each evening. She was just a joy to have around – so full of life and love. She died 2 ½ months ago, but we still feel her presence, her energy.

And so I muse - the love of a dog is a very special thing. All the dogs I have had have loved totally, unconditionally and in the present. They greet me with joy no matter what time I come home. They awaken to the sound of my voice with joy. Even when I feed them late, they react joyously. A dog’s wagging tale is one of the happiest sights! They know when I am feeling down, and do their best to comfort me – a lick on the hand, a nuzzle against my leg, a quiet curling up at my feet, or as Betti did the other day, an insistence that she get in the bed with me! My dogs accept me just as I am and love me just as I am.

I realize that I am part of this special relationship in terms of how I love them. One thing that dogs teach you is the impermanence of life on this plane – anyone who has had a dog knows that they are likely to die before you. Having dogs has taught me to enjoy them when they are physically here and to let them go when they leave. There is no hanging on to my doggies – I simply enjoy them now. I accept my dogs just as they are and love them just as they are.

I remember the happiness that all my dogs have brought to my life. They will always be a very special part of me, the part of me that loves life, that is joyous, that loves unconditionally and that is not afraid to die. For once we really love life we know that there is no end to it.

"That Old Woman"

The other day, someone made a reference to “that old woman”. As I read the correspondence, I wondered for a moment to whom the person was referring. And then I realised that it was me! WOW!

“That old woman”!

I had never thought of myself in that way before. As I muse on it, I realise that I accept that “label” as simply that – a label that someone has placed on me. It is not my reality, unless I choose to make it so. And if I choose it, then I can define it however I want.

What does being an “old woman” mean? Here I could go into how society has categorised old women. But I won’t even go there, for that is not my truth. What I will explore is my own experience.

I know some “old women”. I love and admire these women. My mom, soon to be 90 is one of them. My Aunt Clara, who celebrated her 96th birthday in April, is another. The 80-something year old Etta, mother of a friend. These women live their lives as they wish. My mom lives alone, runs her own household, entertains, travels, does yoga, is always perfectly groomed from coiffed hair to painted toenails and at all times beautifully dressed. She calls herself “the matriarch”. Her children love her as their mother, friend, confidante. Her grandchildren adore her. Her nieces consider her their own mom. Her friends are numerous, spanning age, geography and gender and love her totally. Her life is full.

My Aunt Clara voraciously entertains her friends of all ages in the most elegant and loving manner. She it is who invites my mom to cocktail receptions, to tea, to the gaming lounge! She is a delight to be around, always positive and inspiring. Etta always looks beautifully elegant and is never without her 4-inch high heels. Red lipstick frames her beautiful smile, eyes twinkling and sparkling as she remains present to life's adventures!

As I look at them, I see how they glow, how much they are enjoying their lives. Yes, they have their moments of aches and pains, of loneliness, of wondering "what will happen", of worry for their loved ones. But by and large, they display a triumph, a victorship, born of a savouring of each day and the gift it brings. As I look at them I see that being an “old woman” is a wonderful thing, something for me to look forward to! For these fabulous "old women" are free of attachment to the outward trappings of youth. They know that their beauty flows from inside out. They are truly beautiful.

Where am I now in my life? I too am in a place of freedom. I am in a place of loving my own company; of savouring my alone time as it is time spent with my favourite person! I do not “need” anyone. I am simply and deeply grateful for all the wonderful souls who touch my life whether for a moment, years, this or many lifetimes. They are my teachers. They are my travelling companions. They are in my life at my invitation.

I am in a place of having had enough years behind me to reflect on the learning and wisdom from my experiences, and enough years ahead of me to put into play a different way of being. I am in a place of knowing that years do not matter. I am in a place of not caring less, indeed at all, what others individually and societally think of me. I am in a place of simply living my own life as I choose.

WOW – What an Old Woman!

The Bombay Mango

Displayed on the table was a bowl brimming with an assortment of mangoes – Julie, East Indian, Blackie and Bombay. My eyes and hands were drawn instantly to a perfectly ripe Bombay mango. As I took it up, I noted its perfection – the green-transitioning-to-orange colour that indicates “just ready”; the special scent of ripeness; the skin blemish-free; the texture firm all round with not a soft spot to be felt indicating that this mango had been handpicked, not picked up from the ground.

I bit into the tip of the mango – the little curved point that is unique to the Bombay, and the juice softly oozed out. I peeled off the skin with my teeth, one strip at a time, after each strip gently biting into the flesh and having it melt in my mouth. I noted that this mango was juicy – but not too juicy that it got messy; the flesh was soft, but not too soft that it was mushy – this was the perfect mango. And I stood in that moment and savoured the succulence, the heavenliness of that mango. The ancient Greeks used to say that honey was the food of the gods – they were wrong I thought, surely this Bombay mango must be the food of the gods – it was divine.

And I noted that when I had finished that mango, I had no desire for anything else. I did not want more; I did not want another mango; I did not want any other fruit; I did not want anything to drink; I did not want anything else to eat. I was totally satiated.

And I muse, how many times do we go through life with a feeling of enough, of being sated? How many times in our lives are we present enough to recognise those moments when enough is just right? For most of us, we are so busy rushing from one thing to another that we don’t stop to savour those moments of satiation.

I had planned to rush off after this, my Saturday morning run, my head full of a long list of Saturday things-to-do. Instead, during the run, I became present, enjoying the blossoming morning, the camaraderie of my running partners, the colour and aliveness of the gardens I passed, the birds gleeful in their song, the dogs snoozing at the gates, the entire experience unfolding step by step. And so, in that frame of mind, the Bombay mango presented itself in all its glory, magnificence and perfection.

A simple mango. And yet it brought me such delight in that moment. What else is there in our lives that can bring us delight? That’s the surprise of life! For those things that bring us true delight are not the things we anticipate eagerly – instead they are the things that we become present to as they occur. Do I now await eagerly another Bombay mango? Do I now start my quest for another perfect mango? Do I frantically try to find Yasmin, from whose tree the mango came, and ask her for more mangoes? No. I simply know that that mango is enough. It is the only mango. No regrets. Only joy. Yum yum. Ummmm.