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The Practice of Trust

  • Writer: Natashawratten
    Natashawratten
  • Apr 8
  • 3 min read

Because life rarely goes as planned and sometimes that’s the point.

I was in yoga the other day when the teacher said something that landed so deep, I felt it in my bones. Not just a nice quote. Not something for my Instagram story. It was a truth I could barely look at, but somehow… I knew it was mine.


She said,

“The opposite of anxiety isn’t calm. It’s trust.”


And I just sat there, in child’s pose, heart racing.

Because it’s true.

And it’s hard.


Trust Isn’t a Vibe. It’s a Practice.

It’s not about pretending to be zen while everything’s falling apart.

It’s not about being still or silent or spiritual enough to dodge the chaos.

It’s about choosing to stay present—right in the middle of the mess.


And that’s not easy when you’re living through a season where nothing feels certain.

When the doors you wanted to walk through are sealed shut.

When the timeline you clung to has completely unraveled.

When the version of life you envisioned is nowhere in sight.


That’s where I’m at.

And maybe you are too.

It’s Not Working Out… or Is It?


Trusting that everything is working out as it’s supposed to sounds lovely until it looks nothing like you expected.

When what you wanted doesn’t happen.

When you’re left holding the pieces of something you thought was forever.

When the job doesn’t come through.

When the relationship ends.

When the next chapter doesn’t start when you thought it would.


It’s in those moments I catch myself asking,

“Is this really what the universe had in mind?”

Because honestly, it doesn’t feel divine.

It feels disorienting.


But here’s the thing I’m learning:

Just because something doesn’t go the way I planned, doesn’t mean it’s wrong.

It might just be redirecting me.

Not punishing me…protecting me.

Not delaying me…preparing me.


Every Ending Was a Beginning in Disguise

I’ve had moments where it felt like everything was falling apart.

The relationship cracked.

The job ended.

My identity shifted.

The ground beneath me felt shaky at best.


But still… something deeper carried me forward.

A quiet current underneath the chaos.

Not leading me where I wanted, but taking me exactly where I needed to go.


Every breakdown was a breakthrough in disguise.

Every loss peeled away what wasn’t mine to carry anymore.

And every ending? Just a reintroduction to the part of me I’d buried to survive.


The Real Work Is In the In-Between

It’s easy to talk about trust when things are flowing.

But what about now?

When your nervous system is in full panic mode.

When you’re replaying the conversation.

Refreshing the inbox.

Bracing for the next hit.


That’s where the practice lives.


And your body doesn’t care how spiritual you think you are.

It wants to survive.

It wants control.

It wants certainty.


But trust doesn’t come from control.

It comes from presence.


From pausing.

From softening.

From saying, “I’m scared… but I’m staying.”

From breathing, instead of bracing.


This Is the Practice


This is surrender…not giving up, but giving in.

Letting life lead, even when it’s not following your script.

Letting your heart stay open, even when it wants to shut down.

Letting the body feel what it feels, without rushing to fix it.


That’s Ishvara Pranidhana in daily life.

Not just in yoga, but in traffic.

In heartbreak.

In career shifts.

In all the in-between places where certainty goes quiet.


We’re Not in Danger - We’re in Transition

And that’s a big difference.


Trust isn’t the absence of fear…it’s the willingness to be with it.

To stay.

To soften.

To believe that even if it doesn’t look like it right now,

you’re not being left behind. You’re being led.


You don’t need to have it all figured out.

You don’t need to be fearless.

You don’t need to be “ready.”


You just need to breathe.

To choose presence.

To meet this moment, not perfectly, but honestly.


Because you don’t rise above life.

You meet it.

Fully. Finally.

Without armor.


And that? That’s the practice.


“Maybe what you planned wasn’t too small. Maybe it was just incomplete.”

 
 
 

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