This week let’s let go of knowing and open our minds and hearts to curiosity. Play along with me and see which wonderings speak to you. You’ll know by the little zing you feel as you read, or the sinking feeling, or the hit of fear, or the way your head begins to nod and your heart begins to pound.

I wonder what would happen if…

…I chose to trust him (or her) even though I’m not 100% sure it’s safe. (Do this because you know you’re strong enough to handle whatever happens).

…I dropped the story that makes me feel afraid (or sad, or victimized, or alone) just for a moment.

…I allowed myself to really feel that hunger (or pain or joy) instead of skating over the top of it or pretending it’s not there.

…I looked at the things I don’t like about myself with compassion instead of with judgment, even if it’s just for today.

…I gave without expectation of receiving in return (and I mean really, honestly, no expectations, no keeping score).

…I committed to being totally honest with myself (and those around me) for a day, or a week or a lifetime. (Note: this requires discernment and kindness and is not an excuse to be cruel).

…I picked up a pen or a camera, a paintbrush or a hammer and did that thing I’ve been thinking about forever (even if I do it horribly at first).

…I looked for the good in everyone today, especially those people who get under my skin. And if I can’t see the good, I wonder if I can find (or imagine) the story they are living that helps me understand why they are the way they are.

…I trusted that I am enough, I am loved and everything really is going to be okay.

Will you wonder with me this week? I hope so. If you do, please come back and tell me about it. I’d love to know where your wonderings take you.

I’ve spent a lot of my life coping with fear. Some of it has traceable psychological underpinnings. Much of it doesn’t. When I learned that the primary emotion in my elemental makeup is fear*, I was able to let go of the judgment I hold around those unexplained feelings. (It’s not like we’re friends now, fear and I, but I no longer beat myself up about it).

I stopped watching crime shows, reading mystery novels and seeing any movie that features violence against women and children. I’ve limited my news intake. All of that helps. But I don’t live in a bubble and the world’s horror stories seep in.

I’ve written before about the way fear was one of my major symptoms of grief after Ben’s stillbirth. Fear that my daughter would die or fear that I would and she’d be left motherless. I think these are common fears for parents, especially parents who have lost a child, and the intensity has waned over the (almost) four years since his death.

There are billions of people for whom the world is not a safe place, whether they live in a gang-infested city, in the midst of a genocidal war or with an abusive spouse or parent. But for those of us who do live in relative safety, fear can still be too present a companion.

When fear strikes and there isn’t any immediate physical danger it’s because we are telling ourselves stories about a possible future. We build what-if scenarios in our imaginations that provoke real physical responses. In a culture that thrives on fear we’re not taught how to deal with it well, how to come back to the present moment, to our breath and our five senses, to what’s really happening.

I am safe. I am loved.

These words connect me to the present moment and to the big, bright beauty of the universe. They remind me of my belief that the universe has my back and I’m here to shine, not cower. They allow me to lay my fearful story to rest at the feet of Trust and stand firmly in the belief that even though challenges lie ahead (as they always do) in this moment I am truly alright. These words connect me to all that I’ve lived. They remind me of my inner strength and the hands that have stood me up when that strength threatened to fail.

I am safe. I am loved.

So are you.

And if you find yourself in a situation where you truly are not safe, then my deepest wish is that you believe in your own strength and the hands that will help hold you when you need them most, so that one day these words will feel true for you, I am safe. I am loved.

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* This is based on the ancient system of Chinese “astrology” called the 9 Star Ki. It’s a fascinating way of understanding personality and will be part of a future program I’m cooking up. If you’d like to know more about the 9 Star Ki, shoot me an email via the contact form or let me know in the comments what you’re curious about.

Lately I find myself falling into the arms of trust more and more often. It is one of the major themes of my life and a word I repeat to myself daily. The more I allow myself to be supported, buoyed by the word and the belief behind it, the more deeply I can breathe.

When I remember to trust, my body unclenches.
When I remember to trust, my patience increases.
When I remember to trust, my heart opens wider, able to see the good and the beauty of this world more easily.

As I walk into my week this is the word knocking at the door of my consciousness, demanding to be heard. Trust life. Trust yourself. Trust the magic and wildness of it all.

I invite you to journey with me into the heart of trust this week. If you have questions to ask, stories to share or simply wish for a virtual hand to hold, I’m here, walking beside you.

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P.S. If you’re looking to deepen your capacity to trust, the art and words of my amazing friend Kristin Noelle have been created to do just that. Her Healing Waves in particular are a beautiful and deceptively simple way to deepen this trust practice. The next wave, I Choose (Authentic) Joy begins June 10th. The other waves, Softening, Centering, Opening and Blessings are available to begin at any time. Click here to visit her soul nourishing site.

Thank you are the words bubbling up in me this week, keeping time with the beat of my heart.

Thank you for this little girl, this teacher, this bright light, this love like I’ve never known, this daughter who chose me to be her mother.

Thank you for this husband who believes in me, supports me, cares for me and loves me as only he can.

Thank you for the tears that spring to my eyes, surprising me as I watch my husband walk with a little boy who has no father.

Thank you for our son’s brief appearance in our lives and the way his invisible presence continues to fill us with grace.

Thank you for the fog of confusion that sometimes surrounds me, allowing me to recognize the bright warmth of clarity.

Thank you for this breath, this body, this mug of hot tea on a cool, gray day.

Thank you for the strong hands that massage the ache from my back, for the yoga practice that keeps me both grounded and light.

Thank you for teachers, mentors and friends who keep me inspired and make my heart sing with their brilliance.

Thank you for the ache that reminds me I am human: tender and vulnerable and imperfect.

Thank you for the technology that keeps me connected and thank you for the reminders to shut it down and walk away.

Thank you for this full heart, for this incredible journey through the magic and the messiness.

Thank you for the privilege of this life.

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What are you saying thank you for this week? And if thank you feels a million miles away, wave to it in the distance, knowing it will eventually return, then listen to the beat of your own heart.