Today, while meditating, I began to fret. Worried about something I said, worried about how it was received. As sometimes happens during meditation, thought bubbles of worry floated through my head. I wished I could help a grieving friend and her kids more than I had been, wishing I could wave a magic wand and her loved one could come back to life. I worried about all the things I said I’d do for my writing, work, family, friends, but hadn’t. Like a snowball hurtling down a hill, these worry balloons became bigger with each breath.
But then this word appeared:
I held onto it. That’s it! My clenched stomach began to settle. Detach from the outcome. And the more I thought about detaching, letting go, the more I realized that detachment is really the same as Trust. The two words are synonymous.
I don’t know what will happen in the future and how my words may have landed on others. I don’t know what will happen with my friend and others I love. I can future-trip about it and frighten myself into a frenzy of foolish panic. Or I can just trust. I can just detach. Even if the worst happens, I’ll figure it out. And trust that the people in my life and the decisions we all make will work out in some form or other, at least in the end. Detachment. It’s a form of surrender. It’s a form of trust. And ultimately, it’s a path toward ease and peace.