The bird loses its wing feather but does not worry it will no longer soar. It continues its flying, and soon a new feather fills the void, one that is undamaged and perfectly supports the bird’s natural motions.
The beetle crosses a street, heading toward something but not knowing what it will find. It does not fear the journey or the cars driving past. We might think the beetle ought to stay safe nearer the lawn where it hatched, but we don’t know its destiny. We do not know what it leaves behind, or what unimagined experiences it is meant to encounter when it arrives safely on the other side.
The bird and beetle follow their inner knowing without thought or question. Trust is not in their vocabulary.