The Coronavirus has naturally been a contributing factor to feelings of vulnerability in ways expected and also beyond what likely first comes to mind. We wear cloth masks when we leave the house, but we wear masks in other figurative ways as well. It’s what we hide behind, tucking away our fears in the hopes that keeping them in the dark will keep them at bay. But “vulnerability is an act of courage because you merge with your authentic self, instead of hiding behind a façade to appease others.”

A fear of becoming ill is there for me but simmering at a pretty low level. I worry more about becoming exposed and then inadvertently infecting others. It is this concern that prevents me from crossing state lines to see my mother. She is, by virtue of age, in the group deemed more vulnerable to the virus. And her vulnerability adds to my vulnerability on the basis of guilt. I know it’s the right decision and that it will help to keep her safe. I know I’m not alone, with so many of you forced to make the same choices. But it’s difficult, isn’t it, this diminished capacity to move about freely and see our loved ones?

Another way that vulnerability hits home relates to the possibility of being attacked, either physically or emotionally. You know what it’s like to enter a room and feel the “vibe” of a place? Sometimes the vibe is joyful and friendly, and sometimes the vibe is tense and fearful. Those who are empathic or highly sensitive, as I am, can be completely overwhelmed by the current vibe of the world. The harm in this case isn’t intentionally inflicted by anyone. It is, simply put, what it is in this moment. In a virtual workshop last week-end we spoke about this very topic and discussed ways in which we are coping with the onslaught of negativity reverberating all around us. Staying calm and centered in this environment is hard, taking even more effort than usual. We’re all feeling overly exposed, and we’re all feeling vulnerable.

A third example of feeling vulnerable lately is, in fact, with the mailing of these newsletters. Does that surprise you? It shouldn’t. Each week I choose a topic that I hope will be of interest and beneficial to you. In doing so I share a part of myself. You know what makes my life bearable, and what music and books I find healing. I have asked you to breathe, to be still, and to hold space. My thoughts about how a soul can blossom and what I’ve learned from walking the labyrinth are deeply personal reflections. And perhaps most controversially, I asked if you would consider becoming friends with the new world in which we live. What I write is often outside the box and perhaps outside your comfort level. It may not always be seen as helpful or beneficial and I have perhaps unintentionally caused offense. I lay my soul out there for all to see. And that exposure, my friends, is definitely what makes me feel most vulnerable of all.