The Currency of Trust: Liquidity & Letting Go

It started with a river.

Or, more precisely, the absence of one. I was standing at the edge of a dried-up creek bed during a hike I hadn’t planned, wearing shoes entirely wrong for the terrain and carrying a backpack filled with snacks no one had asked for. Classic mom move.

The map said water should be here. The trees still curved protectively overhead, their roots remembering moisture that no longer fed them. I stood still and listened to the silence where movement used to be.

It struck me that liquidity isn’t just a financial concept. It’s a state of being. A way of existing in time, in trust, and in relationship with the unseen. When we lose that liquidity, that ability to move and be moved, we become brittle. Economically, emotionally, spiritually.

The dried creek bed became a metaphor I couldn’t shake.

In finance, liquidity refers to how easily an asset can be converted to cash without losing value. In life, I think of it as how gracefully we adapt to change, how available our inner resources are when life invites us to shift, yet again.

We like to think control equals security. We cling to plans, to people, to identities that have already outlived their purpose. We do this in our portfolios, hoarding illiquid assets even when they no longer serve us. We do this in our hearts too, clinging to stories that once protected us but now weigh us down.

Liquidity, both financial and spiritual, asks us to loosen our grip. To let go.

This kind of letting go can feel terrifying. It’s the moment in a negotiation, whether with an ex-spouse, a financial advisor, or your own inner critic, when you stop trying to force an outcome and instead ask, “What would support my flow?” Not what would win. Not what would prove your point. What would keep you moving?

This is not passive surrender. It is sacred trust.

Trust is the currency beneath all liquidity. It’s the invisible agreement that makes exchange possible. In markets, it’s faith in stability. In relationships, it’s belief in mutual care. In the soul, it’s the quiet knowing that life is wiser than we are, and that loosening our grip might be the most beneficial move we can make.

But trust doesn’t always come easily. Especially for those of us who have been burned. Who have lived through betrayal or scarcity, or the ache of watching the numbers not add up. In those moments, liquidity feels dangerous. It feels like giving something up without any guarantee of return.

I’ve learned, that the answer isn’t to tighten. It’s to tune in.

I return to water, to the part of me that remembers how to move, how to shape canyon walls through persistence rather than force. I surrender to what is asking to be felt. I meditate not to fix, but to soften. I lean into the sacred energies that live within me—gratitude, forgiveness, and vulnerability—and allow them to guide me as I release another outdated “asset” from my emotional portfolio.

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And when I do, something always opens. Not always what I expected, but always what I needed.

So this month, I invite you to check the liquidity in your own life.

• Where are you holding on instead of flowing?

• What might become easier if you trusted more deeply?

• What sacred asset are you ready to release, not because it lacks value, but because holding it is costing you something precious?

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