Trust

He pawned many of my tools. The list is too long to detail here, and the implications keep rippling out of the jobs that need to be done. For example, I want to cut a doggie-door out of a solid-core, steel-plated door. I need my jig saw. The saw is MIA because he took it and pawned it. This is when his theft pisses me off and it's also where my friends call me a fool for trusting the man. We part paths here on the theories of trust, one holding that the world is a scarce place and that you gotta cover your ass because everyone is out to rip you off. The other theory, one that puts me in the position I am in now, holds that you trust someone until they become worthy of your trust, so that they become worthy of your trust. I hate to say it -- and those close to me don't want to hear it, will get angry at me for losing all that I lose -- but I still trust the guy who ripped me off, stripped me down to my bare tool bones. I believe he is my friend and that his theft is not his best self. Now, I can rationalize here, and blame heroin and other causes, but that is not the point. In the big scheme, trusting fearlessly and unreasonably is how we pull the better angels of our nature out from the wounded places where they hide; doing so opens a door to who we, and those we trust, might become. That's my story and I'm sticking to it. Now where is that cordless drill? Fookin aye.