The dark does not destroy the light; it defines it. It’s our fear of the dark that casts our joy into the shadows.
— Brené Brown
Your vulnerability is much misunderstood.
It feels like a weakness. It feels something to hide. And it feels like it can be used against you.
And the irony is, it is you at your most beautiful. It is you at your most open. You at your most perfectly imperfect.
It is you beyond the ‘field of right and wrong’.
It is you without listening to the fear.
It is YOU.
Connections are made. Love is felt. Meanings are understood. And the common pool of humanity is richer for it all.
It is a you without the intellect. A you without words. A you that doesn’t actually know.
It is you at your most powerful, wonderful, and courageous.
No-one finds it easy to be vulnerable, least of all you. And yet vulnerability is seen as being weak not being strong.
It is said that the meek shall inherit the earth. Meek, a word that could mean gentle, or kind, or humble. Meek is the word. And so is vulnerable. Vulnerability is the true state of being human.
The more vulnerable you are, the more present; the more vulnerable you are, the more human you are; the more vulnerable you are, the more you are being.
And who knows what comes next when you are being? Who knows what you will gain, and what you might lose?
But you want to know, you need to know, it’s important. And so returns the planning and scheming and thinking. The guards return to guard the gate. The mask is donned. And sacrilegious vulnerability is banished from the Kingdom and Queendom forever.
And that works out for you. For a while. A strained connection from a strained oppeness. Inspiration replaced by calculation. Tick boxes ticked, and trust ignored.
But. There is a better way. A more human way of being. And sooner or later, your vulnerability must be met head-on.
Whether it’s relationships of a romantic, familial or friedly kind. Whether it’s realising your dried out by life. Whether you can no longer tolerate your own closed-downness.
Or whether you become forced to ask for help.
Whether you simply yearn for connection.
Vulnerability holds the key. And it’s found behind the door you rarely open. Or in that moment you jump off the edge. Or in speaking without knowing what you’re going to say next.
Vulnerability is found inside your darkness. And your lightness. It is your very essence.
Yet you don’t like being vulnerable. You like doing. And you like thinking. And you like intellectually making sense of it all. You like giving head, so to speak (and receiving head). But you don’t like being vulnerable, you don’t like living life without these ‘trusted aides’.
You prefer stress.
You prefer terrible tiredness.
You prefer ‘doing your head in’.
And you’ll do anything if you can – you’ll suffer any horror of the mind, any break-down of the body – but be vulnerable. But be naked. But expose your ego.
You prefer the mediocrity of what you already know to the miracule of what can never be known. Mental effort versus magic. Sound instead of silence. Something to do rather than somehow to be.
You don’t like being vulnerable, you just don’t.
And yet that is where your powers lie. A power source that is infinite. That can solve any problem. That holds the answer you’re always looking for.
You, vulnerable you.
Your vulnerability is not a tactic or technique, though. And this is not just a clever way to control, or connect or create.
Your vulnerability is simply you being you, in that moment. You could be frightened. Or proud. Or you could be feeling Goddam amazing. Vulnerability is leaning in to whatever you’re feeling, holding it and nurturing it, and loving the okayness of it.
You’re not trying to get something by being vulnerable; you’re trying to un-try, to do not-doing, to just be.
Yet vulnerability feels like letting down your guard. It feels like keeping the old pain out and not letting the new pain in. Vulnerability makes absolutely no intellectual or rational sense.
There really is nothing scarier in life than fully sharing yourself with the world. Than fully being with yourself. Moment by moment.
Nothing is scarier, nothing.
Who would want to open themselves up to failure, or rejection? Who would be comfortable not knowing what’s going to happen, next? Who would not want to be totally prepared?
Who would? You would! You. Would. You.
Vulnerability is what you secretly most desire in life. The ultimate excitement. The improvised life. Not knowing what’s coming now, or next. or soon.
That is why you’re here, my dear! That is why you’re here. To be as vulnerable as you humanly can be.
Vulnerability is the birthplace of innovation, creativity and change.
— Brené Brown
Vulnerability is the birthplace of you.
Want to be happy? Stop trying to be perfect.
— Brené Brown
Want to be happy? Stop trying to be invulnerable.
Surrender, let go to this moment, and let you be you…
Oh, maybe you think this isn’t about you. Maybe you’re great at being vulnerable. Maybe vulnerability is second nature to you.
Hmm, maybe. Or maybe you’ve got so comfortable with life again, with how things turn out, with knowing what comes next that you’ve forgotten to vulnerable.
Vulnerability isn’t easy. You notice it, always. Just like you stop noticing your thinking, your safety mechanisms, and your schemes and your dreams.
Vulnerability is like taking a bath in iced water. It never gets easy, but it is doable.
You never get used to being vulnerable, but that’s how you know when you’re being vulnerable.
The thinking mind will waste no time in telling you how vulnerable you’re being. Because the thinking mind, the person you think you are, is desperate to survive. And vulnerability represents annihilation to it.
So, the more you think you’re being vulnerable the less likely you are. The more you’re thinking, the less you’re being. The more head, the less you.
You don’t like being vulnerable. But you’re gonna do it, anyway – yay!
Agree with what I’ve shared here? Disagree? Still got questions? Then please leave a comment. 🙂