The First Conscious Breadcrumb

For years, one little word has followed me around like a persistent mosquito.

Trust.

Actually, that is not entirely fair to mosquitoes. At least they eventually go away.

Trust did not.

It kept showing up everywhere I turned. During my own QHHT sessions. Through those quiet little intuitive nudges that somehow always seemed to know more than I did. Just last month, during a QHHT session with a friend, Archangel Michael apparently decided it was time to bring it up yet again.

Trust.

Now, if you have been reading my Messy Middle adventures for a while, you already know this is not the first time we have had this conversation. In fact, I wrote an entire post about trying to figure out what on earth “just trust” was even supposed to mean.

Because, quite honestly, I did not get it.

When you have spent part of your life learning that trust is not always safe, people telling you to “just trust” feels a bit like handing someone a violin and saying, “Just play Beethoven.”

Wonderful idea.

Tiny problem.

I have absolutely no idea how.

So every time that word came up, I found myself asking the same question.

What does trust actually look like?

Not philosophically.

Not spiritually.

In real life.

What does it actually look like when the dishes are in the sink, the website needs updating, the coffee is getting cold, and your brain has opened twelve tabs without permission?

Apparently, the Universe heard my question and decided to answer it in the most Sabine way imaginable.

It started because I could not remember the name of an organization.

I know... I was hoping for something a little more dramatic too.

Back in 2023, during my own little breast cancer adventure, I received one of those information packets they hand you before you leave. Buried somewhere inside was a flyer about an organization that offered free energy healing sessions to people going through cancer treatment. I remember thinking it was a beautiful idea, tucked the flyer away, and moved on with life.

Until lunch the other day.

The organization came up in conversation, and as we talked about how it worked, my brain wandered off into familiar territory. Not because I thought their model needed changing. Quite the opposite. I loved what they were doing.

My brain simply did what it always seems to do.

It asked another question...

What would a win-win look like?

Now, experience has taught me that I should probably pay attention when one of those questions shows up.

Not because I know where it is going.

Because I never do.

That question tugged at me long after the conversation was over. I started thinking about the Happiness Matters Foundation and what it might look like to offer something similar, but in a way where the person receiving support was honored and the practitioner offering support was honored too. The details are not the point of this story, which is a miracle all by itself because my brain loves details the way cats love knocking things off counters. The point is that one question opened a door.

Then another door opened.

Then another.

Before I knew it, the idea of the Hope Collective began taking shape. The phrase Hope in Motion, which had been floating around in my heart for quite some time, suddenly found a real home. The Foundation became clearer. The website no longer quite fit. My sixtieth birthday fundraiser shifted into something more meaningful. Everything seemed to connect to the next thing, and instead of trying to force it, explain it, or pin it down like a butterfly under glass, I simply followed.

That is the part that surprised me.

I simply followed.

One breadcrumb led to another, and for once, I was not demanding the entire loaf of bread before agreeing to take the next step. I was not trying to see the whole map. I was not waiting until every possible question had been answered and every possible outcome had been guaranteed. I was just moving with what made sense in front of me.

Somewhere in the middle of all that, I pushed my chair back, stared at the screen, and laughed.

Not because anything was funny.

Because something felt familiar.

The process.

The unfolding.

The strange way one tiny question had turned into clarity I did not even know I was looking for.

And then it hit me.

This was not new.

This was the pattern.

The first time I consciously remember following one of those breadcrumbs was in April 2018, when I felt this strong, ridiculous, unmistakable nudge to write a book. I had never written a book before. I did not have a publishing plan. I did not know what I was doing. I just knew I was supposed to write it.

So I did.

Three and a half months later, I held my first published book in my hands and launched it on my birthday.

At the time, I did not call that trust.

I just called it writing a book.

Looking back now, I think that book gave me something much bigger than becoming an author. It gave me my first piece of evidence. It showed me that when I followed a nudge all the way through, something real could come from it. Not perfect. Not polished. Not guaranteed. Real.

That matters.

Especially when you are someone who was not handed trust as a birthright. When trust has been fractured, you do not always rebuild it by deciding to believe harder. Sometimes you rebuild it by collecting evidence. One small lived experience at a time.

That first book was evidence.

Then, this year, something shifted again. Matters of Perspective finally found its voice. Not because I sat down and forced it into a perfect business box, but because I kept following what felt true. One page led to another. One phrase revealed the next. Wayfinding became clearer. QAR7IS found its language. The work I had been doing for years finally started introducing itself properly, which was very considerate of it because honestly, I was getting tired of trying to explain it at parties.

The same thing happened with Home of Misfits. It did not feel like I invented it from scratch. It felt like I finally made space for something that had been waiting for me to recognize it. And now HMF was doing the same thing. Not becoming something different, exactly, but becoming more itself.

That is when the trust piece finally started making sense.

I had spent years thinking trust was something I needed to feel before I moved.

Maybe I had it backwards.

Maybe, for me, trust was never going to arrive first with a permission slip and a marching band. Maybe trust was built after I moved, after I followed the breadcrumb, after I watched one nudge turn into something real, then another, then another.

Maybe trust was not the starting point.

Maybe trust was the evidence I collected along the way.

That thought stopped me.

Because for years I kept asking how to trust, as if trust were some mysterious spiritual achievement I had not unlocked yet. I expected it to feel peaceful. I expected certainty. I expected calm confidence and maybe a little gentle background music.

Instead, trust kept showing up dressed as curiosity.

It looked like asking one more question.

It looked like writing one more page.

It looked like following one more idea that refused to leave me alone.

It looked like changing the website because the old words no longer fit.

It looked like letting Hope in Motion finally become more than a phrase.

It looked like turning sixty and deciding that meaning mattered more than stuff.

It looked like taking the next step even when my nervous system had not received the full itinerary.

Hot damn.

No wonder I did not recognize it.

I thought trust would feel like certainty.

For me, it felt like following through.

That may be the real shift.

The first conscious breadcrumb in 2018 was not just the beginning of my life as an author. It was the beginning of learning that I could follow something without fully understanding where it would lead. Every breadcrumb since then has added another piece of evidence. Not evidence that everything will always be easy or that every idea will work perfectly, because please, let’s not get carried away. This is still Earth, and humans are still involved.

But evidence that the nudge is worth listening to.

Evidence that clarity often comes after movement.

Evidence that maybe I have been trusting all along, just not in the way I thought trust was supposed to look.

That is the part that makes me laugh.

I kept saying I did not know how to trust.

Meanwhile, trust had been quietly walking beside me, handing me one breadcrumb at a time, probably rolling its eyes lovingly while I asked for another sign.

Apparently, trust has sass.

Respect.

So maybe the question is not always, “Do I trust?”

Maybe the better question is, “Where have I already followed through?”

Where have I listened to the quiet nudge? Where have I taken the next step without knowing the whole path? Where have I allowed something to unfold instead of forcing it into a shape it was never meant to hold?

Because sometimes we do not recognize trust while we are living it.

Sometimes we only see it when we turn around and notice the trail.

One breadcrumb.

Then another.

Then another.

Until one day we realize we were not lost.

We were being led.

So now I have a question for you.

What question has been quietly tapping you on the shoulder?

The one you keep dismissing because it seems too small, too random, too inconvenient, or too likely to make a mess of your carefully arranged plans?

What if it is not random at all?

What if it is the first breadcrumb?

That is exactly how this next chapter of the HappinessMatters Foundation began. If you are curious where those breadcrumbs eventually led, I would love for you to wander over to the HappinessMatters Foundation. You will meet the Hope Collective, discover why Hope in Motion has become the heartbeat of the Foundation, and see the next chapter that is beginning to unfold.

Maybe you will simply explore.

Maybe you will find a spark of hope.

Maybe you will discover a way to become part of the story.

Whatever brings you there, I hope you leave believing something that took me years to recognize.

Sometimes the biggest changes do not begin with a master plan.

They begin with one honest question... and the courage to follow where it leads.

Shift happens...
And sometimes it starts with the first conscious breadcrumb.