An Agnostic Learns to Trust the Universe

I was raised in what was basically an agnostic household. We said grace and celebrated holidays. We were admonished for swearing to God or Jesus — mostly, I think, because it would offend people. Or perhaps it was just a habitual reaction from my mother, raised Catholic. We did not, however, go to church and were not given any formal religious instruction. My sisters and I were free to explore our spirituality on our own terms.

We were also raised with a work ethic, though opportunities for play and recreation and the development of leisure activities were definitely encouraged. Growing up in the 70s by liberal, well-educated parents, my sisters and I were expected to do our best and encouraged to be anything we wanted to be. There was never any discussion of Fate or even a sense that a Higher Power might be at work behind the reins of our lives. Certainly we were taught to change what you can and accept what you cannot change, as the saying goes. But the acceptance, I think, came more from a sense of forces beyond our control, things like weather, other people and the structures of civilization. These were indifferent forces, at best, that had nothing to do with us.

The main lessons I absorbed, whether through my parents, books, movies, or elsewhere, were that you saw results from effort. If you work hard enough at anything, eventually, you will see results. Hard work, and possibly some luck and talent, equals success. That’s the formula for American success, isn’t it?

Recently, though, I’ve come to realize that at times there comes a need to stop, step back and let go. Release the desire for results from the tightness of your grasp and, sometimes, this is exactly where transformation will finally occur. This doesn’t mean to not do the work, or that effort is meaningless. What I suppose is required is the discernment to figure out when you need to stop TRYING and when you need to push ahead.

Here’s what happened to me recently that drove this home. For the past five months, I’ve been looking for an apartment. Now, this seems such a mundane thing. A nuisance thing, but important, because it’s where my children and I, upon moving out of the only home they’ve known, will be living for at least a year, if not more. So it’s a big thing in some ways, yes, but not the kind of activity that you would expect would lead to a spiritual awakening. To put into context: for the past three years, I’ve been living with a spouse who I no longer love or want to be married to. The marriage, on a psychological/emotional level, is over. So finding a place and moving out — and finally being in a financial position to do so — has not only been a long time coming, it represents a major turning point in my life.

During the past five months, I selected two different apartments and came very close to taking them, but backed out. I had pretty legitimate concerns — cost and safety. It was tempting to take the “good enough “ options. After I backed out of the second one, I continued to look, though I had to fight the despair and hopelessness I was feeling. I think looking for an apartment — to basically downsize and live at a lower standard that I had been living (though admittedly, it was on borrowed time because of some financial shake-ups) — hit me with a sense of failure. Here I was, a woman in her 40s, with two kids. I had just gotten a job which signaled that my chosen career track was not to be and that I had to basically start over in a new career. Moving into an apartment seemed to be just another signal that I had to begin again — basically from scratch, but now with more responsibilities and debt. It was like this big voice was barking at me, kind of like the depictions of God in comedy films: You failed at marriage, you failed at career, all you can give your kids is a lousy apartment! So much was caught up in this process of looking at apartments — no wonder I felt so overwhelmed.

But after looking at two more places — one of which was cruelly disappointing and the other which exceeded expectations except that it lacked a third bedroom — I gave myself a pep talk. I told myself that I had not arrived at the Gates of Mordor after all; that every place I looked at drew me closer to my new home. I also told myself I just needed to trust the Universe, that something would come up. And I felt myself relax into this, because I really started to believe that once I put that request out into the Universe, that it would deliver. To some extent, I’d experienced some success with asking the Universe for something when I got my job, but this, after all, could have just been a fluke. I knew I’d still have to do the work (look up listings, view apartments, et cetera), but I really did put my trust and faith into this belief that everything would work itself out.

Two days later, while comfortably relaxing and waiting for the second half of a classical concert to begin, I got a text from a friend informing me that her tenant had just given notice — a bit unexpectedly — and that their three-bedroom upstairs would be open in two months and was I interested?

I nearly jumped for joy. I still had to see the place, but all signs were good. It had the space I needed at a price I could afford, in a neighborhood I could live with, close to our former home — and, I’d be renting from friends. Within a week I’d seen the apartment and given my friend a deposit. And several weeks later, as I plan our move, I’m still feeling like it’s the right thing. Sure, it’s not perfect, and it’s not my dream home. I know the Universe isn’t quite ready to give me that yet. But it’s right for me for right now, and I’m very excited about it.

This event, more than anything, has made me realize how important non-attachment to outcomes is. It’s something I’ve been working on in my life, because I’ve come to realize I definitely grasp too hard at things — at limiting beliefs, at old ideas and dreams, at love relationships, at ideas about success and failure. It’s been a hard lesson to learn, probably because I was not raised to expressly believe in a Higher Power. I cannot really define what that Higher Power is. And maybe it’s really just a mind trick — a way of alleviating anxiety, to make us believe things will be OK as a way to make us be patient. Wait and let things unfold, and you will have what you want in life. Whatever it is, it’s a lesson worth learning.