Trusting people is hard. This can come up in a lot of different ways. Some people want to be in control; some people want to avoid being hurt; some people want to feel secure.

From a survival perspective, it makes sense: distrust is a protective instinct. But I don’t want to just survive; I want to thrive. Today, I want to explore what’s possible for me when I truly surrender myself to the universe, and the people who have my best interests in mind.

The burden of knowledge

My distrust manifests as me wanting to know everything that’s going around me; I just want to have all the facts. For instance, I don’t like surprises, I don’t like being blindfolded, and I sure as hell don’t like being lied to.

This doesn’t necessarily come from an expectation of ill-intent. Knowing is all about mental preparation. The more I know, the more I can predict. And the more I can predict, the more security and control I can have over what happens next.

But when I try to predict everything, I live in my head rather than in the moment. And when the real world inevitably doesn’t align with my predictions, I’m left feeling lost and disappointed.

This is where the burden of knowledge comes in. The more I insist on knowing, the less room there is in my cup for new ideas, hopes, and aspirations. Alternatively, if I were to trust the people around me to carry some of that burden, then I no longer need to know everything.

This comes up a lot in the workplace. It’s impossible to be an expert in every domain required to run a business (for instance sales, marketing, technology). By trusting my teammates with their fields of expertise, I can focus more on bringing value to the team rather than stretching myself thin.

It’s not inherently bad to love knowledge or to have a wide base. But it shouldn’t come at the cost of personal growth and presence.

Reach for the stars

Imagine yourself rock climbing. The temptation to look down is always there.

But when you do, what happens? Does the fear of heights kick in? What happens if I slip and fall? What happens if the equipment fails?

The information about how high up I am frankly doesn’t serve me; all it does is serve to restrict me in fear through a series of “what if’s”.

Instead, I’d rather trust my belayer. I trust that they have my back, and that they’ll catch me if I fall. And that trust is freeing for me. I no longer have to worry about those possible scenarios. Instead, I can just keep looking upwards and climbing towards the sky.

In less idealistic terms, that trust empowers me to take risks; to go in blindly and still know that I’ll come out okay. And even if I do slip, I know that the people I trust will have my back.

The classic trust fall is a great example of this; it is literally a blind leap of faith.

You don’t see Brian Armstrong checking everything that’s going on in my section of the company. Even though I’ve never met the guy, the fact that his company hired me shows some level of trust.

Surrendering control

The more I don’t trust the world I live in, the more I start to live inside my own fantasies. And those aren’t nearly as fulfilling as being in the real world.

What happens if I trust the universe itself and surrender control? Then I can focus less on knowing and more on being. By being, I can have the universe itself behind me; imagine how much power can come from that.