Enough with trust.

I hate it when fear beckons us to dismiss reality and go for the alternative, which is a misguided truth that promises us safety but delivers nothing but anarchy. The sad part is that it’s human nature to trust absurdities in the name of managing its sensibilities rather than addressing them.

• How did we become so afraid of authenticity?
• When did we start demanding trust rather than experiencing it?
• Can the unknown save us from ourselves?

— The Stranger. #recognize

The promise of rain and wind it spared me as if it knew I needed the dry embrace. Its colors, clean and vivid, drew me in.

Since returning to my home in DC in mid-December, I had remained stationary — a state that left me in profound despair, overwhelmed by the sheer noise of rhetorics lost in a sea of tweets about mass layoffs, deportation schemes, and trade wars.

Against this backdrop, I offer you a reprieve on three Scottish hillsides where I discovered an antidote to the malaise we are enduring.

The first hill I climbed was in Edinburgh, a one-hour train ride from Glasgow.

As I walked up Arthur’s Seat with a burdened breath, a stranger greeted me. I smiled and returned the greeting. For about half an hour, we traded places. Sometimes, I was ahead, and other times, he beat me with two walking sticks and a backpack.

Just before we reached the top, he stopped. I approached him, and an unfiltered and simple chat unfolded. Every Saturday, he hikes this hill with free transportation getting him there. His two kids are in their 50s, and a life lived never stepping on a plane or seeing another place.

Yet, he had all he needed. A heavy Scottish accent made it difficult for me to even understand that his name was John. He had to spell it out for me. And from his small rations, a bag of crisps and a small bar of chocolate he generously shared with me.

He was getting ready to go back down, we left each other. He thanked me for the chat while I looked up to scale what was left of the mountain.

A stranger I will never meet again shared a connection and trust that didn’t require anything, and yet, everything it gave. My heart smiled, and that mood overshadowed the remainder of my day, hopping on the cotton mountain enjoying the wind, sun, and a refreshing crisp cold.

There is something intoxicating in the rawness of connecting with strangers and new places — an unspeakable authenticity that breeds trust. The unknown, the uncertainty, the fear is the birthplace, and on Arthur’s seat, I met it again.

— The Sunset. #understand

One that at sunset gathered an audience who simply sat, watched, and existed. No productivity was gained, no metrics improved, no deliverables met—just the simple act of bearing witness to another day’s passing.

The noise of the world failed to drown this place. Failed to rob it of its truth. Here was a mass rejection of urgency, a collective agreement to simply be present as the sun performed its unhurried descent.

The moment needed nothing more than itself to be complete. In that space, unmeasured, inefficient, and peaceful, trustworthiness became the shared experience in the wait, not a mere optimization or transaction but a state of being.

— Essence lost. #accept

An ode to a song sang, proclaiming to me that there is something trustworthy in the stark difference these irregular two days presented on the backdrop of a rough and wild environment that, even in all of its toughness, can still flourish.

Those hills revealed what DC’s backstabbing tech moguls try to obscure with their masquerade: a world that makes sense where fires don’t govern the day but trust. Not one that needs to be earned, gained, or transacted on but authentically true regardless.

The world doesn’t need more optimization. It needs more authenticity. More moments that aren’t calculated, predicted, or designed for maximum output.

Trust is not a contract. It’s the natural state we return to when we stop trying to control outcomes, when we embrace the unpredictability of Glasgow sunshine, the beauty of inefficient connections, and the rawness of being exactly where we are.

The task becomes impossible yet still achievable when the separation is added to eventually not exist at all.

Until next time,
Carlo