My visit to the San Diego Zoo with Daughter was off to an auspicious start: the koalas, usually somnolent poufs of gray, were up and about, munching on fresh eucalyptus, and Murphy the Red River Hog (in photo) was getting a piggy rubdown and treats from his trainers just as we passed by. I’m a sucker for these snouty, hoggish denizens. They fall under the “so ugly they’re cute” category and I’ll always go out of my way for anything with “hog” or “pig” in its name.
We stopped at the enclosure for the Binturong, a long, gray furry critter with a puffy tail and whiskery face, which interestingly is also known as the Bearcat, when I saw it —the V word. Vulnerable. It was at the bottom of the conservation placard designating its status as above threatened but not yet endangered.
I’m more keenly aware of the V word and its associations since starting this blog. Putting my thoughts out here week after week sometimes gives me a squishy feeling, and I wonder how vulnerable I’m willing to be. I use procrastination and perfectionism as a defense strategy—after all, I’m less vulnerable if everything is perfect, right?
Wrong. The illusion of safety is simply that—an illusion. As Thich Nhat Hanh and the Interdependence Project remind us, there ain’t no “us and them.” It’s all “we,” and there is no safe place for us individually if we’re all interrelated.
The zoo is an easy place to maintain the “us and them” illusion. After all, “they” are the animals in the enclosures and “we” are the humans that are free to come and go. But if the Binturong is vulnerable, we’re all vulnerable, whether we know it or not.
I’m no less vulnerable by keeping my thoughts to myself than I am broadcasting them to the world. It just feels that way.
