How self-trust, emptiness, and even doubt become the roots that hold us steady
Coming Empty
The most mind-blowing experience for me is when I don’t know what I’m going to say, or how I’m going to move, and I let things arise spontaneously in the moment. I let words come. I let movement unfold. And so I like to come somewhat empty to things.
I like to enter something not knowing how I’m going to be or speak or move – like in my yoga practice. I step onto the mat without a plan, without a sequence mapped out in my head, without knowing what my body will need or want or be capable of in that particular moment.
And for me, this is one of the biggest expressions or acts of self-trust.
We think anchoring means having it all figured out. That being grounded requires certainty, preparation, a solid plan. But what if the deepest anchor is actually the trust to show up empty? To arrive not knowing, and to trust that something will meet you there. That your body knows, and the words will come. That you don’t have to control every moment in order to stay rooted in yourself.
This kind of emptiness isn’t the absence of something. I like to think of it as spaciousness. It’s trusting so deep that you don’t need to grip or plan or protect yourself with knowing. You can just… be. And let what wants to come through, come through.
The Other Side of the Coin
I also think that a really important part of self-trust is the other side of the coin, which is to second guess. I just think that we get to the fullest expression of something through its opposition. So self-trust also means understanding what it feels like not to trust yourself.
This is where anchoring gets interesting. Because we don’t become anchored by only experiencing certainty and groundedness. We become anchored by navigating through the layers and the complexities of the different aspects of our lives as they unfold. The moments when we doubt ourselves.
When we fumble. When we don’t know if we can trust what’s arising or if we’re making it all up or getting it all wrong.
These moments – the ones where trust wavers – they’re not failures of anchoring. They’re part of how we deepen our roots. We learn what solid ground feels like by also knowing what it feels like when the ground shifts. We understand our own trustworthiness by moving through periods of self-doubt and coming out the other side.
You can’t know the fullness of being anchored without also knowing what it feels like to drift.
The Residue That Grows Us
I still experience moments of not trusting myself in certain circumstances. But now I trust myself enough to know that’s cool, that’s okay, that’s a moment and that moment will pass. But it won’t just pass and leave nothing behind… it leaves behind a residue that grows me stronger than I would have grown without that moment.
This is the paradox of anchoring. The moments that feel most unanchored – the self-doubt, the uncertainty, the not knowing – these are often what deepen our roots the most.
Each time we move through doubt and come back to trust, we’re building something. Each time we show up empty and discover that we’re met, that we’re held, that something arises to fill the space – we’re learning that we can be trusted.
The anchor isn’t rigid. It’s not fixed in one position forever. It’s flexible, intelligent, responsive. It moves with the current while staying tethered to something deep.
Anchored in Trust
So that’s my take on anchoring. It’s not about always feeling grounded or certain or like you have it all together. It’s about trusting yourself enough to arrive empty.
To second-guess and doubt and fumble through. To know that the moments of drift are part of how you find your way back to solid ground.
Anchoring is trusting the unfolding. Trusting that you don’t have to know everything in advance. Trusting that even when you don’t trust yourself, that moment is also teaching you something. Growing you. Leaving behind residue that makes your roots stronger.
And maybe that’s the deepest anchor of all – the trust that you’re exactly where you need to be, even when you have no idea where you’re going.
Loving you always!
Meghan