On Being Vulnerable

I had occasion recently to turn again to David Whyte’s wonderful book, Consolations.  Whyte is a poet whose writing encourages and challenges me to think about life in a much deeper way.  In this book Whyte takes an ordinary word and begins to write about it in ways I never would have considered.  On this occasion I turned to the word, vulnerability.  Everyone knows what this word means.  Basically, to be vulnerable is to be in a situation where you might get hurt.  That is probably why so many of us shy away from these kinds of situations!

Of course, the first thing Whyte tells me is vulnerability is unavoidable.  This is how it goes with Whyte.  Just when I think I am figuring out life, he turns my assumptions upside down.  For example, he says, “vulnerability is not a weakness, a passing indisposition, or something we can arrange to do without…” (233)  He continues to tell me “vulnerability is not a choice.”  “Vulnerability is the underlying, ever present and abiding undercurrent of our natural state.”  It is part of who I am.  Get used to it!

Of course, some of us think we are in control or that we have sufficient power to avoid being vulnerable.  But listen to Whyte.  If we think we are in control, then we harbor “a lovely privilege and perhaps the prime and most beautifully constructed conceit of being human and especially of being youthfully human…” (233-4)  I am sure I am now old enough to grant that Whyte is probably correct.  In my younger days, I did want to avoid being vulnerable.  No one wants to get hurt, I thought.  At least, I don’t!

But as one grows older, maybe a little bit of experience turns into wisdom.  As we age a little, we begin to realize our bodies are going to do some things---whether we want them to or not.  Overall, I have been pretty lucky.  But everyone knows even lucky people will eventually die.  And I am pretty sure being lucky does not bring meaning and purpose.  It might win the lottery, but meaning and purpose---and love---are not products of a lottery win.

This is exactly where Whyte goes in the last paragraph of his short section of vulnerability.  He tells us, “The only choice we have as we mature is how we inhabit our vulnerability…” (234)  I love this description.  Whyte affirms we will be vulnerable.  The choice we have is how we inhabit our vulnerability.  This is a clever way of putting it.  We can’t choose whether we want to be vulnerable; we will be.  Our choice is really how we want to do it.  How do we want to inhabit it?  I understand Whyte asking me how I care to live out my vulnerability?

To inhabit vulnerability goes best if we are aware that we are vulnerable.  Don’t pretend.  Don’t hang on to that youthful illusion that we can have sufficient power or control to avoid that prospect.  Awareness leads to some really good options.  We can “become larger and more courageous and more compassionate” through our vulnerability.  That is a powerful way of articulating how I would like to live out my life.  I want to use my vulnerability to be bigger, more compassionate and willing to love in ways I have never done.  I am challenged and reassured that we all can do it.

Whyte is incredibly creative the way he ends his reflection.  He says if we refuse our vulnerability, we will simply stand “at the gates of our existence…”  I hear him saying without accepting our vulnerability, we will never really figure out how to live---not deeply, richly and meaningfully.  We will stand at the gates of existence, “but never bravely and completely attempt to enter, never wanting to risk ourselves, never walking fully through the door.”

When I read that last phrase, I feel some sadness.  I would hate it if I realized I never walked through the door of my full existence.  That feels like cheating ourselves.  It would be like hearing a lament at the end of life that we were offered so much and received so little.  I think this is the deal God gives every one of us---each of us a precious woman or man of God.  It is as if God says to each of us, I have the very best deal you can possibly have.  All you have to do is be willing to be vulnerable.  I wonder why?

And then it occurs to me.  God is love.  And love is vulnerability---absolutely, it is vulnerability.  Perhaps that is why so many of us didn’t really risk love; we would try to coerce and manipulate instead.  To love is to be vulnerable.  Indeed, we might get hurt.  But if we are unwilling to risk that, then we risk nothing.  And we get nothing---nothing real and deep and meaningful.

I appreciate David Whyte and people like him.  I need help to think about life and to learn to love.  I am pretty sure those two---love and life----go together.  You cannot have one without the other.  And you can have neither unless you are willing to be vulnerable.