Trust. It is a simple emotion, right? Why is trust so difficult to maintain? And why once broken, is it unbelievably difficult – if not impossible – to re-establish? The psyche of the human mind is indecipherable at best. The charted freeways and back roads in our brain obviously need a retrofit. God bless our Master Designer, but some of our emotional pathways are just antiquated. Yes, I am going off the deep end again. Someone, please toss me a life jacket.
So, Webster defines trust as a “reliance on the integrity, strength, ability, surety, etc., of a person or thing; confidence.” It is the confident expectation of what – everything good? But things change, people change, so why don’t our emotional triggers change too? You would think that the older civilization becomes, the more emotionally savvy we would be. In some ways we are; in others, we are not.
It would seem that affairs of the heart are the most susceptible to the illusionary breakdown of trust because trust is the foundation on which many emotions are built. The powers that be arm us with some powerfully ugly tools to justify our emotions too. I mean, really, life presents all kinds of reasons to brandish the pistol of jealousy but gives us the trust and common sense to lower our weapons. And there it is – trust. Without it, a little skirmish elevates to World War III. Just like that.
I have no idea what catapulted me on this particular path today. I am one of the most trusting people on the planet. I think that is because I look inward and thrust my level of confidence onto my entire world. If I think it, then everyone must think it, right? Why grovel at the feet of disappointment when a little fairy dust and rose-colored glasses can brighten your day? And yes, the people of Mars believe that kind of nonsense too. I would not call myself hopeless, just maybe way too hopeful.
And amid all this inquisitive thinking, I still trust that people are good, people can change, and people can find a way to reroute the untrustworthy avenues they travel. Oh, I know there are chinks in that armor, but I would rather believe in the constant of humanity than shrivel into a chided old hag that believes nothing is honorable anymore.
So, there you have it. Life on my billowy cloud of pretense is better than residing in the bowels of distrust. A beautiful glass of red wine and a mystical journey down memory lane is the cure for everything. Maybe next on my list should be the chronic disillusionment of living in a fantasy world. Ah, but that is fodder for yet another rant.
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