Becoming Soft - Lessons from a Standard Poodle

 

"I tell you this to break your heart by which I mean only that it break open and never close again to the rest of the world." Mary Oliver

Can you bring a moment into view, an instance where you physically tightened? Your jaw clenched, your shoulders went up or you held your breath? Maybe you resisted the words spoken by someone close or prepared your defensive response.  In all of these ways, we are hardening into an experience or as a result of  the current circumstance. We may see these cumulative experiences as the right of passage out of our youth toward becoming an adult.  Somehow believing that the softness that came before represents our naivety or lack of experience. Over time we begin to assemble our armor piece by piece after each hardship, heartbreak, regret, or moment of remorse. We connect or join the pieces one by one so we may present the illusion of strength perhaps to ourselves and others. 

There were probably very overt ways the message of building strength and hardening as a survival mechanism was communicated through hardships and imposed realizations brought through difficult times but there were also less obvious ways as well with subtle references from loved ones and strangers where we got the message we needed to present a strong front. The subtle glances of disapproval of tears, displays of affection received with awkwardness or uncomfortable vibes in the rooms where the message of oversharing was received through body language, and the dichotomy of responses to the same inquiries.

Maybe your vivid memories of softening into life are more sparse and significant. Being reminded recently by a dear friend's social media post about the power of softening, my thoughts went to one of these few early memories of softness.  I was instructed to soak in the bath drawn for me by the nurse after giving birth to my first daughter.  The bath was drawn with a dose of Epsom salts with the intent to soak away the physical discomfort.  Instead I lay in the tepid water, gazing down at my soft body that had been stretched to house another human and now the soft folds of skin submerged in the water not yet ready to rejoin my body. This, I had thought was truly what it meant to soften. I would be softening into motherhood over the many years ahead, most of which had nothing to do with my physical body but in this moment it was showing me what it meant to soften, a foreshadowing in a sense. 

Last week, I was reminded again of the challenges of remaining soft and coming back to softening. My companion and man's best friend, Shanti the dog had an unfortunate encounter with two dogs while walking with my youngest daughter, Maya, and my husband.  Shanti remained rooted in his stance as he was pinned down by the large dog. While the small dog found the soft underbelly to attach to. This was a quick, senseless and unfortunate event and I am so grateful to say that he will heal and be better with a bit of time. I do mention this to marvel at how instinctual it was for these animals to look for the softness. I was left wondering why Shanti didn't retaliate, bark, bare his teeth, run away or any other typical dog reaction. It did settle in quickly that Shanti was remaining soft yet strong for Maya who was holding the end of the leash at the time.  He did not move or waiver in his own attempt to protect her from the dogs. Maybe he even realized that her seeing him act savagely would have been even more traumatizing in the moment.  

The days after I grappled with my own instinct to harden here. To get angry about what happened, to tell the story of how hard this was and inconvenient, to ruminate over how life is unfair and non-sensical, and to retreat into my fears around the ways that the world continues to be unsafe.  But I still came back to Shanti and his soft underbelly and the quote we have heard about  the importance of having a strong back and soft front, by Joan Halifax.  So I continued to ask myself to soften through my difficult thoughts and reactions.  Mostly to soften into allowing them to be there and to not retreat into those old narratives and patterns of behavior that may accompany the discomfort of the feelings.

Spending a lot of time in nature as always, I was searching for examples of how to stay soft here even though I was offering myself the grace for not being able to do it right now. What I arrived at was the flowers surrounding me in the yard. I can't think of anything in nature quite so soft. The center of  each bloom remains open with the soft petals forming all around. Their softness is the spectacle of their innate beauty and strength.  As they blossom in their fullness, they become even more heavy in the weight of their softness. All the while being supported by their spine like stems. Reaching and opening towards the light and bowing with grace, as they bend but don't break. 

I wondered too if the flowers bow with the weight so they can remain open, soft , and full of grace, if we too, could learn to emulate this process?

We spend so much of our early life acquiring our armour, our strength and our presumed resilience, only to realize that as our physical beings begin to soften with that our minds will yearn to do the same. We can then spend our time softening as Mary Oliver says, "To let the soft animal of your body love what it loves. 

As I go about my day today and continue to whisper my intention to soften away from or into this experience, I will also curl my soft front into my t-shirt clad, cone wearing , peace dog. Maybe too, I will ask myself what love would do in this moment and let Shanti be my guide.