What outcome are you trying to control?

Luna under the stairwell, 6 months old.

At 6 months old, my dog Luna was a stray wandering the streets of Sacramento on her own. One day she stumbled upon a man in Oak Park who was experiencing an epileptic seizure, and she stayed beside him, licking him until it passed. She followed him around for the rest of the day, and although he enjoyed her company, he knew he couldn't care for her. So he found a rope, tied her to the back of a stairwell in an apartment complex, and sat across the street, weighing his options. That stairwell led to my front door. (I know all of this because he approached me a few months later and told me himself.)

I was out of town at the time, but just days before, I'd told a neighbor I was ready to adopt a dog — a bully breed, preferably. When he offered to go to the pound with me, I said, "No, dogs tend to find me."

When my neighbor came home that day, he spotted Luna curled up in the bushes beneath the stairwell. After confirming she didn't belong to anyone, he called me and said, "I think your dog found you." I sent my brother to collect her, and the rest is history.

Luna is 6 years old now and 30 pounds heavier. She sleeps wrapped in a down comforter, eats fresh meat and vegetables every night, and spends her days loafing in the sun alongside a hopelessly devoted human companion.

Luna at home, 6 years old.

Life turned out pretty well for Luna — and in some ways, other than being innately sweet and loving, she had nothing to do with it. Knowing her, I suspect that if she'd landed somewhere that wasn't working, she would have found her way out. Maybe that's how she ended up on the street in the first place.

I think about Luna's story often.

I use it as a reminder to trust the path life has laid out for me. I spend a lot of time worrying about the future and trying to control its outcome, but rarely have things turned out the way I expected — and in retrospect, all that effort to force a particular result cost me time and energy I didn't need to spend. A little trust would have gone a long way.

Luna doesn't question whether she deserves the love and good fortune she receives. The concept of earning it is completely lost on her. She gets to have good things just because. As author Devon Price writes, "Animals help teach us that we shouldn't have to earn our right to exist. We're fine and beautiful and completely lovable when we're sitting on the couch just breathing."

Is there an outcome you're trying to control? How does it feel to hold that grip in your body?

Take a few deep breaths. As you exhale, practice letting it go.

What would it feel like to trust that you'll be OK — that you'll know how to care for yourself no matter what?