A definition of recovery I find very helpful is ‘wisely accommodating to life as it is’. Our ability to accept and perhaps surrender(not resist) ‘what is’ is fundamental to the question the Twelve & Twelve asks us on page 88 … ‘can we stay sober, keep in emotional balance, and live to good purpose under all conditions?’. The Big Book uses the word ‘self searching’ in a way I believe is quite consistent with vulnerability in the chapter ‘There Is A Solution’ …. ‘almost none of us liked the self-searching, the leveling of our pride, the confession of shortcomings which the process requires for its successful consummation. But we saw that it really worked in others, and we had come to believe in the hopelessness and futility of life as we had been living it. When, therefore, we were approached by those in whom the problem had been solved, there was nothing left for us but to pick up the simple kit of spiritual tools laid at our feet. ‘
I love this short reflection on vulnerability and the ‘letting go’ of the armor that perhaps is keeping us stuck and full of resistance to what is true about ourselves and our lives thus creating a barrier to growth and transformation. There is a direct link between my willingness to face my vulnerability and the resultant authentic experience of greater intimacy and connection to whatever I perceive as ‘other’ whether within or outside … a deepening of conscious connection and a reduction of conscious separation.
This short reflection from the outstanding poet David Whyte beautifully weaves courage and compassion into this fabric of vulnerability that I believe allows us to move a step closer to being true partners to others, God and ourselves … – Bruce M.
VULNERABILITY is not a weakness, a passing indisposition, or something we can arrange to do without. Vulnerability is not a choice. Vulnerability is the underlying, ever-present and abiding undercurrent of our natural state. To run from vulnerability is to run from the essence of our nature; the attempt to be invulnerable is the vain attempt to become something we are not and, most especially, to close off our understanding of the grief of others. More seriously, in refusing our vulnerability we refuse the help needed at every turn of our existence and immobilise the essential, tidal and conversational foundations of our identity.
To have a temporary, isolated sense of power over all events and circumstances is a lovely, illusionary privilege, and perhaps the prime and most beautifully constructed conceit of being human-and especially of being youthfully human-but it is a privilege that must be surrendered with that same youth, with ill health, with accident, with the loss of loved ones who do not share our untouchable powers, powers eventually and most emphatically given up as we approach our last breath.
The only choice we have as we mature is how we inhabit our vulnerability, how we become larger and more courageous and more compassionate through our intimacy with disappearance; our choice is to inhabit vulnerability as generous citizens of loss, robustly and fully, or conversely as misers and complainers, reluctant and fearful, always at the gates of existence but never bravely and completely attempting to enter, never wanting to risk ourselves, never walking fully through the door.