Shells, Turtles and Bears...Oh, My!

If you're on Facebook, chances are you've come across something called "Likey," a web site/interface that works similarly to when you "Like" a Facebook page, except this time you're "liking" a statement that an anonymous person has posted. A lot of the statements I've come across have been very off-color (to say the least). Others have been quite touching. For instance, I came across one that went something to the effect of "the one who seems the strongest is sometimes the one in most need of a hug."

I remember times of crisis in my life (and there's been a few) when I had to swallow up what I was feeling inside and project something else when all I really had wanted was to open up, or receive a hug, or be reassured that everything would be okay in X,Y or Z situation. Then I'd break down on my own, in the quiet moments when no one was watching or listening. I'd follow up by stifling those little breakdowns, thinking I had to be "strong" for myself.

We're taught so much by our culture that we need to be hard asses because that's what will get us up the ladder, deter those who wish to take advantage of us from doing so, and keep us from being rejected or our hearts from being broken again or our dreams shattered. We think we'll get by or ahead by keeping others fooled with a kind of armor, a facade of impenetrability. We often start duping ourselves into believing that we are invulnerable. We're kind of like turtles—hard on the outside and pulling back the softer elements of ourselves when we come into contact with external stimuli.

There are moments when protection is necessary. But there's a difference between when armor is required and when it becomes an unhealthy habit. When strapping on emotional artillery and defenses becomes unnecessarily recursive, it grows damaging. As we try to fool others into thinking we are impenetrable or when we hide how we really feel about something, we are denying a vital part of ourselves. Actually, we lose that part. We lose touch with our true nature. We shut down—to our own selves just as much as we do to others. We forget who we are. We forget our humanity. That's why I like (excuse the pun) this statement I came across about the one with the "strong" exterior needing the hug, because we forget (if we've done it long enough) the reason why we've put on this hard shell in the first place. We've pushed that reason aside, buried it, locked it in a fire-proof drawer and tossed away the key. We forget that our shell wasn't always there. We weren't born with it. We were born soft, but the world wounded that spongy core—that soul, that vital energy—and in some cases made so many pieces of it scatter that we walk retracted inside a nearly hollow shell of ourselves. Where's the joy in that?

So why not call our scattered pieces back and meld them together? Why not break open that shell that has kept the real core Self hidden just as much from our own selves as from others? Why not put our arms around ourselves and get back in touch with what's really inside? Let's heal ourselves from within, retreating deeply inwards like bears in hibernation, and get really good and intimate with our true essence. And when we've finished going inside and have restored that Self, why not try to reach out to others? We might then be able to heal each other, extending light and opening up our petals in its glow. We can't receive a hug from others and feel the petals of their warm embraces if we close our Self off, and we can't connect with others if we don't connect with our Self first.

I'm not suggesting that there aren't people we need to be watchful of, or that there aren't people who can and will do us harm and that we shouldn't protect ourselves. A healthy dose of skepticism is good. So is giving others the benefit of the doubt as not every person or situation is an enemy. The key is balancing healthy skepticism with healthy openness to the people and experiences that come into our lives. Let us again look to nature.

Every bear has a good nose. It knows exactly when danger is near and when it is not. A mother bear can go out and enjoy the woods and play with and nurse her young (in other words, live her life and connect with the world), and other animals can be in proximity and she can leave them to their business. But she can get fiercely protective of what's hers and stand her ground when a real threat provokes her. She is able to respond in the right context because she trusts her nose.

We, too, are able to respond to situations in ways that meet our best interests if we know how to listen to Self and trust our own noses and intuitions. And if the voice inside is urging us to speak a truth, why hold back? Sure it might be risky. We might risk the image we've worked so hard to build. But life itself is a risk. It's a much stronger action to speak a truth than it is to hold it in. It's much more liberating to do what is in one's Self than to shut it up inside the hollowness of a shell. Risk living a life that reflects your true nature.

Hug yourself today, dear reader, because in order for the world out there to heal, we must first heal ourselves from within—therein lies true strength. Live life like a bear, not a turtle!