Shtoonk

Do you remember the movie Avatar and the helicoradian plants on Pandora?

Those were the plants that when you brush against them, they disappear into themselves.

In the movie, when Jake touched the first one, Shtoonk! The beautiful spiral flower jerked into the ground so quickly that the plant seemed to vanish. He was curious, so he brushed another, and Shtoonk! It, too, sucked into the ground.

One by one, the flowers pulled inside themselves, each more abruptly than the last.

Ever feel like a helicoradian? Like you’re folding up inside yourself?

When I’m a self-protection mode, I swear I can almost hear that Shtoonk.

But in these moments, the life-or-death feeling we’re experiencing is frequently out of place. We feel it even if we’re not in a dangerous situation.

For example, you might be in a meeting, and someone calls you on the carpet or challenges something you have said. Suddenly, you don’t feel good enough. You feel small. You go quiet. Shtoonk.

I could be in the middle of an uninspiring game of mixed doubles, and hit three or four volleys in a row into the net. Even if you don’t play tennis, you know this is not a good strategy.

One of these times, my partner tried to catch my eye. I knew he had some feedback, but I wasn’t ready to hear it. I walked toward the service line, my back to him. I was thinking, “What’s my problem? I know how to do this!”

And he called after me, “What, you won’t even look at me?”

I shook my head. Shtoonk.

They say this flight or freeze tendency comes from days battling saber-toothed tigers. And as the fragile humans that we are, we’re always watching out for that next dangerous creature that might be waiting in the shadows.

Ego to ego is generally an unsafe place to be, psychologist and spiritual guide Sonia Choquette says. Because it’s me against you.

(There’s a lot of that going on right now. Me against you. Us against them.)

But Choquette also says that spirit to spirit is always safe. If we show up as our most expansive, connected and spiritual selves, we create vast, safe spaces for others—where they, too, can show up fully and not need to hide or self-protect.

Seeds of lotus flowers can survive for thousands of years without water. They can tolerate ice, heat, and the scorching sun. Each night they submerge into river muck and mud, and in the morning they rebloom.

I say, no more helicordian. Instead: blooming lotus flower.