About Trust

As long as we frame the question in such a way that trust in a person means our inner certainty that they will always behave “well” (from our point of view)—that is, as we agreed, as we asked them to—then in that case, we cannot truly trust anyone at all.

Any person is a variable, ever-changing.

When we think we know someone well, we actually know only their most familiar state of mind. Or two such states. Or ten. There are always more possibilities.

And in this sense, we don’t even fully know ourselves (thanks, Captain Obvious—I know you’re always around, and sometimes you’re right).

No person can guarantee (even to themselves) that they will always behave in accordance with a decision made, a promise given, or an agreement reached—that is, “as they should.”

Those who claim they always stand by their words and always control their behavior simply haven’t experienced a radical shift in their state of mind.

Or, more likely, they just don’t remember it.

It’s clear that this not only fails to guarantee the absence of such situations in the future, but rather ensures that they will inevitably happen.

As long as trust equals a guarantee, we cannot even trust ourselves.

Well, we can—but it’s a very fragile construct.

And as long as trust equals a guarantee, we will keep arriving at the same place: the ability to trust another person while they behave “well,” and a crisis of trust after the very first (second, third—everyone has their own threshold) “bad” action that shatters our illusions. Because the idea that “trust = guarantee” is itself an illusion, and the ability to rely on it for a long time is simply a matter of luck.

There are fortunate coincidences when a partner doesn’t commit any “bad” actions—or we simply don’t find out about them.

Now, sitting on these ruins, let’s try to assemble a workable structure from the fragments.

What a person can truly control is their intention to act in accordance with promises, agreements, and so on—to behave “as they should.”

Controlling intention doesn’t mean becoming the master of yourself on the first try. It means making the effort.

Not to stop making efforts—neither after setbacks nor after long periods without them. Not at all, right up to the very end.

Accordingly, what we can trust or not trust is precisely the other person’s intention.

Trusting someone’s intention does not mean expecting their actions to always be “good.” It means recognizing and valuing the other person’s efforts.

When we trust someone’s intention, we treat setbacks as setbacks. Not “okay, this is how it will always be now.” And not “nothing special happened, let’s forget it.” Instead, we understand that a setback has occurred—it’s difficult, but, in principle, it can be overcome.

And joint efforts should be directed, first and foremost, toward supporting the person who has slipped, because the only real danger here is losing the intention—deciding that nothing works and “I’m not good enough.”

Everyone fails sometimes, yet everyone is still “good enough.”

And finally, one last thing: where does trust come from?

Trust Begins Within

Trust is also the result of intention shaped by will. When we decide whether to trust or not, we of course rely on external information—on the other person’s actions and on how their idea of “ideal” aligns with or differs from ours.

But the decision of when to turn trust on or off is always ours.

Here, too, setbacks are possible, and there’s nothing страшного about them as long as we recognize that it’s a setback—not a full-blown “this-is-the-end-forever” crisis. It’s also worth adding that our trust (when it is a conscious, deliberate choice) can strengthen the other person’s intention—provided our understanding of the direction of effort aligns not just in words but in practice. But that already belongs to the realm of applied magic: intuitively clear, yet difficult to analyze.