A Balancing Act? 

(A pep talk to myself ) 

I’ve been reflecting on the word ‘TRUST’ in these days running up to my op. My previous health experiences this year mean that it is easy instead to gravitate towards doubt, fear and stress as I wait.  

Some say that stress is the opposite of trust. Trauma expert Dr Gabor Maté proposes that the main triggers of stress are: uncertainty, lack of information and loss of control. 

As I look at these three points; I am pretty CERTAIN that my op is needed. I have enough INFORMATION to be going ahead. And lastly, I need to give complete CONTROL over to the medical staff as I proceed. There is no going back from this one. My heartbeat will henceforth be completely device-dependent. 

Dependence holding hands with trust. A necessary pairing.  

I am being called to trust. 

Trust can sometimes feel like a tightrope walk. We bravely step on, believing that the slim wire is capable of bearing our weight, but also aware that it demands our own sure-footedness, complete focus and extreme effort to stay balanced on the slender cord. With that, comes a tentative tension – I picture the body’s muscles like actual taut-tight rope, constricting in the very act of concentrating to maintain stability. And as this happens, the mind constricts too, like the pupil of an eye, laser-focused, less open to receive. 

In another sense, trust is a hammock. We know that the structure will hold us. All we need to do is tumble into it, relax, give it our full weight and be held. Suspended in safety, with effortless balance. An image of soft openness, ease and expansiveness comes to mind. 

For those of us who trust in God, the hammock scenario should be easy. But in truth, we don’t always make it that straightforward. As humans, we like to feel that we have an element of control. Sometimes life’s experiences have caused us to be hyper-vigilant, always on the lookout for further signs that may threaten us. Living in a kind of alert survival mode. In actual fact, the control we have is largely an illusion anyway, yet we grip on, believing our own concerted effort will save us from falling and from failing.

And sometimes that will help, when our initiative or contribution is needed to an extent. But more often than not, we can rest in the sure knowledge that we can let go and fall in, safe in the huge hammock of trusting – and not be afraid.

My opportunities to practise this continue on … The truest test comes tomorrow. 

I am not being asked to perform my own operation, but only to turn up and go with the flow. To simply be carried in the cradle of care offered to me. Already, there have been signposts of kindness and compassion indicating to me that I am in safe hands. 

And so I fall into that hammock and breathe in deeply, knowing above all that I am held and deeply loved by my Creator. 

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