Before there’s a path, there’s a pulse.
Trust the process, or process that trust?
“Has anyone informed the process that we trust it?”
I once saw a post on Instagram, a photo of a wall, tagged with this question. The old idea of trusting the process. The one we all know by now, but phrased in a way that made it feel… a little more alive.
My first reaction when I saw this question: hehe, it’s cute and catchy.
Then it made me wonder.
We repeat it like a mantra in meetings. Say it out loud during brainstorms, almost like we’re trying to convince ourselves that as long as there’s a process (clear, structured, boxed-up) everything will go smoothly. Astonishingly, even.
But… have we actually told the process that we trust it?
I think the process might have feelings too
Because from where I stand, the process looks nervous. It keeps looking back in hesitation, unsure if it’s allowed to breathe. It's drowning in revisions, constantly forced to justify its pace against a clock it was never set.
We say we trust it, but we treat it like a suspect under interrogation. We poke it. Audit it. Timeline it to death. And when it hesitates, when it dares to follow a more colourful journey, we call it inefficient. Unscalable. A risk.
Meanwhile, the heart and soul of the work is allergic to speed. It wants to wander. It wants to stumble. It wants to surprise even you.
But that kind of process doesn’t fit neatly into our “efficient workflow.”
That kind of process is only trusted by people who’ve learned, through failure, that nothing worth building ever came from a project timeline alone.
We confuse control with care
Sometimes, we think hovering over the process means we care about it. That monitoring every step and constantly tweaking the plan is a sign of responsibility. Professionalism. Uuuu, maturity.
But control is not the same as care. Care is patient. Care is spacious. Care means listening when the process says, “I need more time,” and not immediately replying, “Well, we don’t have it.”
Control is the fear of uncertainty and failure.
And the more we try to control the process, the more we choke the life out of it.
The more we rush it, question it, force it into a box, the more we lose the very thing that makes it powerful.
You know, the process is not a button you press and comes out brilliance (it has never worked like that on me anyway). It’s a living, breathing collaboration between 🤝trust, ⏳time, and 🤍the human heart.
Maybe we should ask a different question
So maybe the question isn’t do you trust the process? Maybe it’s, do you trust yourself enough to let the process work without your constant supervision?
Can you hold the tension of not knowing, without rushing to fill it?
Can you sit with the silence, without assuming something’s gone wrong?
Can you stop refreshing the timeline and start listening to what the work is trying to say?
Because the process doesn’t need your trust.
You do.
We don’t have faith in our wings
A bird never senses if a branch is weak or about to break. Yet no matter the situation, it trusts its wings.
You and I? Sometimes we don’t have that kind of faith in ourselves. We say yes to the challenge, but quietly brace for the fall. No wonder trust feels so far away.
That’s why I believe trust in yourself is not only a feeling, but something you build, piece by piece, through experience and results.
Self-trust, said Zoltan Veres, rests on three things:
What you know (the information you hold)
What you can do (your skills)
What results you’ve achieved (and can achieve again)
So when doubt shows up and you hear yourself say, “I don’t trust myself,” try flipping the question: “Trust myself in what, exactly?”
At Thunder Talks 10, Cris shared this powerful formula:
Confidence = Certainty + Faith
Certainty comes from looking back at what you’ve already accomplished. What wins prove you can trust yourself? No one expects you to believe you can do everything, just what matters most to you. When you spot a gap in your skills, that’s your next step: grow that ability, bit by bit.
Faith comes from looking forward. It’s believing in your potential before there’s proof, trusting that even if the path isn’t clear, you’ll find your way. Having faith in your wings.
Now, what exactly kills self-trust? Negative self-talk, that inner voice that erases your wins.
Fight it by catching those thoughts and adding a “BUT” after them: “I’m not good at this, but I did X before, and I can learn.”
Remind yourself of your consistent achievements.
When that whisper of doubt comes calling, know this: neither the process nor your doubts are the enemy. Power lives in holding steady on your wings, even without seeing exactly what the next branch will hold.
So fly anyway.
Wings were made for this moment.
Andreea
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Nice one, well done.
Lovely 🤍