“You’ve got a helluva poker face, Candis.” My brother says as he sets his arepa down, looking at me like he’s just been hit with a plot twist straight out of a telenovela. I’ve just finished telling him the scandalous, layered, almost-unbelievable details of my decade-long marriage saga and the final ordeal that sealed its imminent end.
He had been living with me and my then-husband during our final year together, and still, somehow, he had only a vague idea of what had been unfolding behind the scenes. It’s been a hard year. Honestly, it’s been a hard decade. But as I tell him the story, I’m calm, bitter or angry. Just still. He meets me there in the stillness. No judgment or rage on my behalf. Just a silent respect.
We’re tucked into a tiny arepa café on Washington Ave in Miami Beach. “Such is life,” I say, with a small shrug. It’s not that I was trying to hide anything with my poker face. It’s that I truly wasn’t angry, albeit a little sad. I mostly felt something deeper. It was a reverence, a trust in Life itself.
After years of living, loving, and losing, I had arrived at a truth that felt so clear and so unshakeable: Everything in my life is happening for my ultimate good. To strengthen me and deepen me, and to offer me a glimpse of the Extraordinary.
I’ve come to believe that the more intimately I know pain and suffering, the more expansive my capacity becomes for joy, pleasure and bliss. I don’t believe life is random. I believe it’s sacred. And I believe that in every moment, through every choice made by myself, or those in my orbit, my life is moving and evolving into its highest and ultimate expression.
The only thing I truly control is how I choose to relate to it all. And when I trust in Life, I free myself from the grip of fear, from distrust and unnecessary suffering. And in that freedom I find the kind of joy that comes not from everything going my way, but from dancing with Life, even in its darkest moments.
Why We Don’t Trust
A couple of times a week, I teach in a life coaching certification school. One of the core competencies of being a coach is the ability to establish trust. To become someone a client can feel safe, open, and real with. Whenever I introduce this topic to a new cohort, I like to zoom out a bit.
I ask, “What’s the fastest way to break trust?”
Without fail, the answers come quickly: Not honoring your word. Being inconsistent. Not showing up the way you said you would. We all nod in agreement because we’ve all felt the sting of someone letting us down. And we’ve probably all been on the other end, too.
Then I ask the follow-up questions that make the room go quiet: “Does trust require the presence of another person?” and “Does trust always require consistency?” At this point, everyone’s eyes drift upward, off into the right corner of the sky, their minds spinning a little. And that’s the moment I love because it’s where the deeper unraveling begins.
Most of us, when we really examine it, view trust as a moving target. We tie it to outcomes and behaviors. To consistency. We say we trust someone when they do what they said they’d do. When they show up predictably and match our expectations. When circumstances feel steady and dependable.
But when people falter, or circumstances shift, or when life rearranges the pieces without consulting us first, we begin to feel ungrounded. Shaky. Destabilized. And so we begin building walls and start withdrawing. We label people or situations as untrustworthy. We choose to disconnect.
But in my experience, the deeper reason we struggle with trust isn’t because they changed. It’s because we feel shaken. We doubt our own ability to stay centered when the ground moves. We don’t fully trust ourselves to hold steady in the face of life’s inevitable unpredictability. And so we want others to be the anchors.
So, does trust require consistency? Maybe. But then we have to ask: What in life is truly consistent? Who never changes? Who always does exactly what we expect or want them to do? And the deeper question still: Can trust ever really be broken? Or is it simply revealed—asking us to look more closely at where we’ve placed it, and why?
Related: What is Emotional Freedom? How I Learned to Live with an Open Heart
What it Means to Embrace Uncertainty
My friend is being forced to move apartments, again. Rents are climbing, and she’s stressed about how to give her daughter a stable home base. We walk slowly along a side street after a lunch date. “What does stability even look like anymore?” she ponders.
It stirs something in me. A familiar longing. I’ve never lived in one place for more than three years, usually two. My dad’s job had us moving constantly. New cities. New schools. New friendships I had to manufacture fast before the next inevitable move tore them away.
My physical environment was always shifting, and the only thing I truly had to anchor into was my family. So when one of them didn’t have my back, usually Dad from my young adult perspective, I’d carry a quiet, gnawing sense that there was no one or nothing to really fall back on.
Uncertainty wasn’t a phase. It was the backdrop of my life. It was baked into the very nature of my upbringing. As an adult, I unconsciously carried the same pattern forward. I married a man eerily similar to my dad (you know what they say about daughters marrying their fathers), and we went on to move apartments every 2–3 years, always searching and shifting.
Over time, I came to accept uncertainty. Not consciously, but just as a reality of my life. I didn’t fight it anymore, but I didn’t embrace it either. I tolerated it. Underneath, I was always craving the same thing: an anchor. A person or place that would make me feel safe and certain. Something or someone that would give me a sense of the groundedness that I hadn’t yet found within.
One day, back in 2022, I decided that I wanted to experience true love and deep trust, more than I feared the unknown. So I got divorced and immediately started looking for my anchor, my sense of stability. I searched for it in friends, lovers, connections that felt grounding. But this pattern kept re-emerging—nothing stayed the same. People changed just when I’d gotten used to them being a certain way. Situations shifted against my will. Life, it seemed, was always moving.
And slowly, I came to a deeper understanding: The very nature of Life is uncertainty. And the more I required it to be stable, the more I tied my peace to people or circumstances being consistent… The more inevitable distrust became.
I began to truly embrace uncertainty when I stopped seeing it as a flaw in the design and started seeing the beauty in it. When I stopped clinging to control and began celebrating change as a sacred part of being alive. When I discovered a groundedness within me that wasn’t dependent on other people being reliable or the path being clear, but on my own willingness to surrender. To lean into the mystery and to trust in Life itself. To trust that everything is happening for the expansion of my awareness. To bring me closer to the innate joy, peace, and freedom that have always lived within me.
It’s not that I never get rattled. I still love deep connection with humans whose word feels solid. People who carry their own sense of groundedness, built from within. That kind of trust is beautiful, and I cherish it. But I no longer require people or circumstances to stay the same. I no longer demand certainty in a world that is, by nature, ever-shifting. Instead I’ve chosen to root myself in something deeper, understanding that the only truly unchanging thing in this life, is the essence of Life itself. I embrace and celebrate the inevitability of change. Because that, I can trust in. That kind of trust, real trust, is what has set me free.
Where I Place My Trust These Days: A Spiritual Framework for Trust
When trust is no longer about people doing what they say they’ll do, or circumstances unfolding exactly the way I hoped—what’s left? What does it look like to root your trust in something deeper than consistency?
For a long time, I thought trust meant certainty. Predictability. People showing up the same way every time, plans unfolding without disruption, outcomes I could rely on. But life doesn’t work like that. People shift and plans fall through. Timing rarely follows our calendars. And trying to grip tighter only makes it worse. Eventually, I had to ask myself: If life is always changing, what can I trust?
That’s when I began to build a different kind of trust. A softer, more spacious kind. A trust not rooted in predictability and control, but in presence and compassion. It became less about securing external guarantees, and more about surrendering to a natural flow. A spiritual framework began to emerge. It’s one that holds me through every high and low. These days, I find my trust anchored in four places: in a Higher Power, in Nature, in Timing, and in Myself.
Trust in a Higher Power
There’s a sacred essence to life that I’ve stopped trying to analyze. Call it God, call it Life, call it intuition or flow, but I trust that there’s a deeper intelligence at work. I’ve watched doors close and new ones open, seemingly at random, only to later realize how perfectly orchestrated it all was.
Even in seasons that felt like loss or chaos, I now see how Life was always rearranging things for my highest good. My parents modeled this kind of faith when I was growing up. Even when money was tight or illness hit, there was no frantic grasping. Just an unshakeable peace. A stillness rooted in something beyond this world.
I live that same trust now. I believe Life is for me. And because of that, I can let go. I can rest. I can allow myself to be guided, even when I don’t understand the plan.
If you’re struggling to trust the path ahead, maybe you don’t need to. Not fully. Maybe it’s enough to simply trust that there is a deeper wisdom holding all things together. That even in the delay, even in the detour, something loving is at work. You don’t have to know the plan to be part of it and you don’t have to see the full picture to take the next small step.
Trust in Nature
Nature has become one of my greatest teachers. When I slow down enough to really see it, I’m reminded of how much trust is woven into the very fabric of existence. Trees grow slowly, effortlessly. Flowers don’t bloom on command. The tide rolls in and out without needing to be managed. There’s no rushing here. No urgency. And yet, everything gets done.
These days, even the simple rituals of cooking remind me of this wisdom… grains soaking overnight, berries ripening, garlic releasing its scent slowly in the pan. Life is not in a hurry, and I don’t need to be either.
The other day, I was walking home when I saw a gardener trimming back a flowering hedge that spilled beautifully over the footpath. My first reaction was a pang of sadness, as those flowers had been such a joyful burst of color. But then I remembered that they’ll bloom again. Bright pink buds will slowly, surely make their way back over the fence. That thought made me smile. I was reminded at that moment that I’m a part of nature too. And like nature, I’m resilient. Indestructible in my very essence. I bloom. And you do too.
Whatever season you’re in right now, whether blooming or between blooms, step outside and notice the natural world around you. Let it remind you that everything has its season.
Trust in Timing
I’ve stopped expecting things to happen on my timeline. Life has humbled me enough times now to know that I can’t rush what’s not ready. And I can’t hold back what’s meant to be.
Sometimes we want things before we’re actually ready to hold them. Sometimes we think we’re waiting for love or clarity or opportunity, but Life is waiting for us. Waiting for our nervous systems to regulate, our boundaries to strengthen, our roots to deepen. And when it’s time, it comes.
This has become one of the most heartfelt forms of trust in my life. The trust that I don’t have to chase what’s mine. I only have to stay open, present, and ready to receive.
If you’re in a season of uncertainty, here’s a gentle reminder: you don’t have to force clarity, force people or force what’s already yours. You don’t have to rush. Try placing your trust in the present moment, in the breath that’s with you right now, and in the possibility that Life, no matter how messy or mysterious, is silently working in your favor. Could that be enough, just for today?
Trust in Myself
This might be the most radical one of all, because for a long time, I didn’t trust myself. I didn’t trust my body, my emotions, my intuition, or my decisions. I didn’t trust the God within me. I saw myself as fragile, not strong enough to navigate life without the help or guidance of others. Like the world could knock me over at any moment.
But I’ve learned that trusting myself doesn’t mean I won’t be hurt. It means I believe in my capacity to feel deeply and keep going. That I can ride the waves of my emotions. That I can be disappointed and still stay open. That I can get it wrong and still be worthy of love.
The irony is, the more I trust myself, the more I trust others. Because I no longer place the burden of my stability on their shoulders. I don’t demand perfection. I don’t need constant predictability. I can let people be human because I trust my own ability to navigate whatever arises.
This kind of trust has made me more resilient. It’s shown me that safety doesn’t come from controlling the world around me. It comes from within. And that’s the most powerful place to anchor myself.
How To Deepen Trust in Life
Trust doesn’t grow by accident. It grows in the stillness and in the spaces where we stop trying to control and start learning how to simply be.
Even after I physically slowed down my life, cleared my calendar, said no more often, and moved into a quieter home, my spirit kept churning. Like the rims on a tire spinning long after the brakes have been hit. I had removed the external noise, but the internal hum was still there.
I had to practice sitting still and just being in silence with myself. Watching life unfold without rushing to interfere. It meant carrying a heart of gratitude, not just for what was good, but for the ways life has shaped me especially through the hard times. The lessons I only recognized in hindsight. The doors that closed for my protection. The pain that cracked me open in all the right ways.
As I practiced this stillness, something began to shift. My mind relaxed and my nervous system stopped bracing. I started to notice the sacred intelligence of Life and how it moves, guides, and supports me even when I don’t understand the path.
Deep trust is not passive. It’s not about ignoring hard things or pretending everything is okay. It’s about actively choosing to see with new eyes. To believe that Life has a plan that’s more graceful, generous, and expansive than anything I could force or fabricate on my own. And like any muscle, trust grows with practice. With sitting down, listening, resting and remembering how far you’ve already come. These are the conditions where trust takes root and begins to grow.
Surrendering to the Unknown
In the final days of my marriage, I had already made the decision to move on. On some level, I knew it was right. I could feel trust taking root inside me. But even with that trust, there were questions that tugged at the edges of my peace.
I didn’t have a stable income. I had been laid off twice from coaching gigs in the year prior and my savings were barely there. I didn’t have a long-term place to live, not unless I moved back to Australia, which I didn’t want. What I wanted was to build a life of my own in Miami Beach. But the how felt vague and out of reach.
One early morning, I was sitting at my desk doing my devotion. The sun was pouring through the window, casting soft light across the pages of my notebook as I wrote about the unraveling of my marriage and my dreams for the future. A small candle flickered on the windowsill. Everything was quiet. In the stillness, I heard a voice from deep within my spirit: “It’s safe to let go.”
I’ve never heard a voice so clearly, not before and not since. It wasn’t just a thought. It was a knowing. A calm, undeniable truth that settled over me. It was time to release what I was still holding. Time to trust that I was loved, supported, and being guided by a power so much wiser than me. That I could surrender my relationship, my plans, and even my sense of control, and still be okay. More than okay. That I could live a life beyond my wildest dreams.
That very day, I made the decision to move out. Since then, my life has become a series of miracles. I spent a year traveling throughout the Caribbean, filming a travel show for a major cruise line. My coaching business blossomed seemingly overnight and now fully supports me. I’ve built a multi-dimensional life and career doing deeply purposeful work that lights me up from the inside. And most importantly, I am truly, deeply, undeniably at peace. For the first time in my life.
Today, I have the spaciousness to share my stories here, at The Slow Year. And I sit in awe at how beautifully life can unfold when we stop gripping so tightly and choose instead to trust in its mystery. Of course, surrender isn’t a one-time decision. It’s a practice. A daily invitation to soften our grip, to breathe into the unknown, to believe that even the detours are part of the path. It asks us to loosen our timelines, to release our need to understand, and to open to the possibility that there are miracles on the other side of our letting go.
If you’re standing at the edge of something uncertain, whether it’s an ending, a beginning, or an invisible in-between, know this: Life is for you. It’s not forgetting you. It’s shaping you. Asking you to relax, to surrender, and to remember who you are underneath the striving. You don’t have to map the whole road. You don’t need unshakeable faith. You just need a thread of it. A flicker of trust that maybe, just maybe, things are unfolding for you in ways you can’t yet see. Life will meet you there. It always does.
What in your life are you being asked to surrender today? And how might you begin to trust—if only just a little more?
Ps. Want to kickstart your journey to a slower, more peaceful way of living? Sign up for the free 5 Days of Slow audio course here.
