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I’ve been thinking about the complicated relationship we men have to vulnerability. When vulnerability is overly visible or too demonstrative in someone, we tend to frame such a person as “needy,” a condition that few find attractive in themselves or others. If vulnerability is not visible enough, we can perceive someone as impenetrable, cold and aloof. The first condition appears too soft for many men, but the alternative can seem too hard or harsh.

We have such a narrow Goldilocks window of how much vulnerability is “just right.” Why is our tolerance for vulnerability so limited, our requirements so precise?  Perhaps because we often have no idea what to do with vulnerability, and that’s because we haven’t practiced carrying it comfortably, either in ourselves or in others.

What men often tend to do with vulnerability in other men is exploit it, looking for ways to use it to our own advantage. Men do this in the business place without thinking about it; it’s standard practice.  We look for the weakness in our competitor and figure out how to use it to our own benefit. This is perhaps the underlying strategy for all competitive sport. For some, it can also be a strategy for dating, which in certain cases is a kind of competitive sport, isn’t it. Identifying and exploiting vulnerability is the defining strategy for war.

All of this leads us to a strange place, because vulnerability (the state of being open or exposed; capable of being physically or emotionally wounded) is at the core of spiritual practice, is a requirement for being able to fall in love, and is perhaps the condition of being most fully alive.  It is a condition I describe as having a “broken” heart but in the sense of “broken-open”–the way the sun breaks through clouds after a storm. Having a broken-open heart allows us to be pierced and penetrated by others which, as with the sun, allows  warmth, light, and radiance to reach our deepest parts.

One of the skills we practice in Touch Practice is sitting with others’ vulnerabilities. Working within safe boundaries, we expose ourselves, we open ourselves to the person sitting in front of us.  The exercise for one partner is becoming comfortable being exposed, whether that means physical nakedness, in some cases, or strong emotions in others.  The exercise for the other person is simply this: learning how not to exploit others for our own advantage (or pleasure, or comfort, or satisfaction.) Mastering the skill of sitting with the vulnerabilities of others as a guardian of those vulnerabilities, a protector, is a part of this practice.  When someone falls asleep as I am holding them I often have the sense that I am ‘standing guard’ over the person.

We cannot live life with any depth without being fully open (and therefore vulnerable) to each other.  When men stand before each other truly open and undefended, there is a choice to make: we can take each others’ lives, or, with the same fierce dedication of a warrior, we can stand guard over each others’ most vulnerable, weak and wounded places.

Have thoughts you’d like to share?

Touch Practice is a sacred practice for me, and part of that is keeping confidences sacred. While a name and e-mail address are required to post a comment, feel free to use just your first name, or a pseudonym if you wish.  Your e-mail address will never be seen by or shared with anyone. It is used to prevent spam and inappropriate comments from appearing in the blog. I’d really like to hear from you!