Vulnerability

The most beautiful thing in the world is … vulnerability

Much of this article is pinched from a book by John Green. He talks about a dog who ‘in the early evenings would contract a case of the zoomies. He ran around us, yipping and jumping at nothing in particular and then after a while he’d run over to me and lie down. And then he would do something absolutely extraordinary. He would roll over onto his back, and present his soft belly. I always marvelled at the courage of that, his ability to be so absolutely vulnerable to us. He offered us the place his ribs do not protect trusting that we weren’t going to bite or stab him. It’s hard to trust the world like that. To show it your belly.”

We tend to wear pieces of ‘armour’. Cynicism, anger, and irony are just some of the uniforms that we use to cover our tum tum against the barbs of the world and others.

The image of the dog lying on its back also reminded me of The Master on the cross. There with his belly exposed and pierced by a soldier. For some it might seem gory, but for me it is an exquisite thing that he was so vulnerable and beautiful because of His love for the world.

“The most beautiful thing in the world is vulnerability”. John Green would argue that you cannot see the beauty of the world unless you are first vulnerable yourself. The armour plates of prejudice and grumpiness quash any potential blossoming of vulnerability and love.  The dark glasses of suspicion and preconception blind us to what we need to see most. A belly defenceless and exposed. There for the piercing, there for the caress, or both. But always accessible, beautiful and vulnerable.