Jenny Vyas
Jul 28, 2017 · 3 min read

What if we made that “trust fall” without hoping someone will catch us?

Let’s make vulnerability our status quo.

“Only to the extent that we expose ourselves over and over to annihilation can that which is indestructible be found in us.” ― Pema Chödrön

Some experiences in life leave us stripped to the bones of our resilience. Some losses beyond our control leave us heartbroken. The kind of heartbreak that can tear you apart and leave you tethered to the deep recesses of grief that feels almost unbearable. When we encounter this pain again and feel unsettled, we panic and seek out solutions to escape it. We surrender to the fear and our hearts close up.

Let’s talk about these weak moments. These moments when we shiver, we hide, we run. Why we can’t make that drop into the “trust fall.” When we are so terrified of the unknown and the possibilities of what that fall might unearth. Because, more often than not, when we finally let ourselves fall, when we crack our core open― we’re hoping somebody will be there to catch our fall. Allowing ourselves to be that vulnerable is excruciatingly painful. Ultimately, we all fear loneliness, death, and the possibility of never falling deeply in love or be loved in return. We ache to hold and to be held.

Deep down, we all know that no one can really, truly save us. When we can’t gather the strength to do it alone, it hits us― we are hoping for others to save us. And the fear of vulnerability deepens. To be so limited as a species that longs for cosmic heroism, cosmic communion is so incredibly…frustrating.

So instead of surrendering to the fear, what if we became intimate with it? Whenever things get uneasy, when we feel unsettled― instead of fighting it, what if we remained still in the moment? Let’s accept that fear is an innate part of who we are. It is what keeps us alive. I mean if we didn’t fear death, we wouldn’t truly live. (Had a drawn out debate about the latter with someone who is terrified of dying. Conversation for another day.)

In “When Things Fall Apart,” Chödrön teaches us that in the end, there is only one certainty― things come together and then they fall apart. And each time, we die a little. BUT, I’m learning that when we choose to stay in this liminal state of discomfort, where our hearts are broken, our stomachs are churning, and we master the art of relaxing in the midst of chaos, we find that we can catch ourselves when no one else does. Gently. Compassionately. Ever so lovingly. And we are reborn. We may die once again. And each time we are willing to die to face our fears, our arrogance from holding onto our ideals crumbles and we regenerate into an openness we only otherwise dream of. Valor to me isn’t in fighting against your fear, but in being intimate with it. The way is through it, not around it. Each time, we step just a little further on that ledge until finally, we are able to take that dive into the “trust fall” and be wholly vulnerable. That feeling of incompleteness dissipates into something unabridged and oh, so complete. Our minds, bodies, and senses all fuse together with complete and utter abandonment of fears. We are left skinless and unreservedly in love. That is where true freedom lies. And the only path to get us there is through vulnerability. Let’s make vulnerability our status quo!

Jenny Vyas

Written by

Artist. Designer. Muralist. Scorpio. Latest murals: #FederalesChi Wings @FederalesChicago & #HowWillYouRISE @NonnasChicago. Insta: @JennyVyas

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