I’m Still Working on Trust
I was talking with a good friend the other day. Actually, she thought I was supposed to talk with her the day after we actually talked and so missed answering the phone when I first called her. I thought we were supposed to talk that day and wondered why she wasn’t there when I called.
When we connected, she said something mind-blowing to me. “I trust the timing. Always.” I had to sit with that one. I’ve worked (and played) hard to build more trust in my life—to trust others, to trust the universe, to trust things are as they are supposed to be. But I push hard on timing.
I worry when I don’t get things done quickly enough. I hate when things take longer than I think they should, especially at work. If something goes wrong and I miss a call with a client, I freak. If my assistant makes a calendar mistake, I feel like we’ve been caught in the hugest error.
I don’t trust timing.
I’ve been taught over the years that everything works out. When I first stepped into recovery, I learned to remind myself that I was exactly where I needed to be in each and every moment, no matter how wrong any moment might feel. Or how wrong I might feel.
But I’m still holding on to this false sense of making things happen when I think they need to, and pushing against what is.
Then I took a yoga class, as I sat with this concept of reminding myself that all is well as it is. And due to a few minor but annoying injuries, as well as the way my body is built, which will never really change, I skipped quite a few poses and took quite a few modifications. (I almost wrote shortcuts.)
Yet another opportunity to trust what is. To trust the timing. To trust (and accept) my body. There are poses I will never achieve—and I know that yoga is not about achieving. There are adjustments I have to make right now, and maybe for a while. And the timing of my body healing is probably perfect. Mildly annoying at times, but perfect.
I’m challenging myself to be more accepting of time and process. To get done what I get done and let the rest go. To know that it’s all working out, whatever that means. To still work and push—I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t—but to ease and play and flow even more.
Previously published: http://www.lisakohnwrites.com