The Link Between Vulnerability and Belonging

What a mid-workshop collapse taught me about community, control, and letting go

I took care in getting ready for my event at Village Books. It would be my third year returning to the iconic bookstore in Fairhaven, Bellingham, WA. I loved sharing my book, Naked in the Now: Juicy Practices for Getting Present, and teaching my Naked Writing workshop.

I have been leading versions of Naked Writing, also called Write Now Mind, since before COVID. I saw over and over again how it had a way of making a group of strangers feel connection with one another. Instead of offering well-thought-out, polished pieces, we’d be freewriting to an open-ended prompt with rules: keep your hand moving, be specific, lose control, don’t think. We’d be instructed not to worry about grammar, punctuation, or eloquence, and then we’d be invited to share our unedited words – our unedited selves – with often complete strangers. When we did, however, something shifted. We began to see ourselves in one another. We began to realize that it might be safe to drop our mask, our armor, to let our shoulders drop and to dare to share our less-than-perfect selves. I had long noticed the link between vulnerability and connection.

That afternoon, before my Village Books event, I tried on several outfits, selecting a long, stretchy, black, strapless dress, my favorite bangle necklace, and a new, chic sweater from Peruvian connection that offered some coverage for the bare-top dress. I felt ready in my boho chic ensemble. I always thought looking good helped me feel better – made me feel more comfortable in front of strangers and ready to help them open up to one another.

Brené Brown calls vulnerability the origin point of connection itself. She writes that uncertainty, risk, and emotional exposure allow connection to grow. I have watched that happen during my Naked Writing workshops for years.

On the Floor

Perhaps that is why I didn’t panic and begin to apologize profusely when, halfway through my workshop, I found myself breaking out in a sweat, ripping my sweater off, and, soon, on the floor, suddenly exposed, unable to move and on the verge of throwing up. Was I having a heart attack? Was it vertigo?

Although I was completely compromised, I found myself held in the warm embrace of the attendees – who I couldn’t help but think had not bargained for this when they signed up for my Naked in the Now workshop. Nonetheless, each was present for me, offering support and encouragement. One, a nurse, monitored me closely for signs of a heart attack or stroke. Another gathered the other attendees and organized an impromptu writing prompt where they wrote a Dear Marijke letter on the spot. One eventually helped me walk out of there – in mincing 4” steps with my eyes closed as the world spun around me and I fought nausea.

I received the naked writing letters they had written later. I was moved to read what one attendee – who hadn’t realized there was a writing component to the workshop -- wrote: “This is absolutely about presence, awareness & honesty. As you were sitting there, it was not obvious, but one could tell you were uncomfortable… yet you tried to stay with us, even through all this. You allowed your vulnerability to show to us. …This is the strangest author event I have ever experienced.”

“You Are My Community”

We had called my husband to pick me up, but he had to take a Lyft and was delayed. As I lay there, unable to move, aware that I might be feeling wildly embarrassed, I found myself instead sweetly held. At one point, I looked up to these folks, some of whom I had only met 30 minutes ago, and said, “Right now, you are my community!” The sense of belonging and connection was undeniable.

Genesis

It made me think of another moment, years ago, during childbirth. I remember thinking it might be embarrassing to be in the throes of pain and undressed in front of others. It turned out all the potential shame disappeared, and just before giving birth, I found myself lying naked on the cool floor of the birthing suite—couldn’t even make it to the jacuzzi tub—contractions coming hard. In between, I remember looking up at the underside of the stirrupped birthing bed and reading a stainless-steel label “Genesis”. That’s a good name for a manufacturer of birthing beds, I remember thinking. Genesis…

What does it take to birth “no shame” to birth acceptance of what is?

It seems we spend considerable efforts trying to create the perfect package. Yet, my own life has shown me that these inescapable moments of no control — that might find you lying on the floor in front of others—as I was during birth and again the other day during a writing event —give birth to a feeling of belonging nonetheless.

We work hard to make ourselves presentable because we long to belong—but, ironically, being stripped of all control in compromised positions has resulted in the very acceptance and belonging we longed for.

The Hard Sell

That’s a hard sell though: “Just lose complete control, let go of caring how you look or sound – let it all hang out”. Hard to imagine wanting to do that. But then, I didn’t choose it either time, just reaped its benefits.

Still, maybe the mindset shift is smaller than it sounds—not seeking out disaster, but not scrambling to hide the rough edges when it comes. Relaxing into being seen, sweat, cleavage, and mussed hair and all.

It reminds me of why Zen isn’t more popular: it’s rooted in embracing life’s groundlessness and impermanence—in surrender. As Zen teacher Shunryu Suzuki said, “Life is like stepping onto a boat which is about to sail out to sea and sink.”

The Boat Was Never the Point

I didn’t choose to sink that day at Village Books. But I’m learning that the boat was never the point – who shows up while it goes down is the point. Thirty minutes earlier, those people were strangers picking seats in a bookstore. By the time I was helped out, they were my community. I didn’t have to earn that. I just had to stop holding myself together long enough to let them in.

Turns out you don’t have to dress for belonging. You just have to fall apart in front of the right people.

Good News

I’m alive! As near as we can tell, I had a vasovagal response triggered by a budding ear infection and vestibular imbalance, leaving me unable to get off the ground because of vertigo and nausea.

Eeeep!! So delighted to announce my daughter, Sanni’s book, Mosaic Theory: How to Craft a Life of Many Summits, is available for pre-order! I had the good fortune to read an advance copy. I absolutely loved it!! The back stories! The wisdom! So proud. It’s the kind of book that just might change your life.

Upcoming Events

• Write by Red Rock resumes October 7

• Write by the Sea resumes September 7

• Write Now Mind — coming back soon, hopefully! Waiting on Floop 2.0 to launch before resuming classes.

Recordings

· 🎧 UK Health Radio: Dream On with John Purkiss, Brenda Knight, and me

· 🎥 IMWA Panel: Writing About Love & Sexuality

The iconic Village Books and Paper Dreams in Fairhaven, Bellingham, WA