Porcupine

The Soft, Pink Underbelly of the Soul

A Porcupine Mythology

The young porcupine seemed normal enough. His parents had mostly been all right, and tried to take good care of him. The area where they lived, although not extremely abundant, provided the basics and had good shelter.

His parents spent a great deal of time teaching the young porcupine to survive. They showed him what foods to eat, and which to avoid. He learned to anticipate weather changes, and how to make a warm, comfortable shelter. But most of all, they taught him how to protect himself from others who might wish to harm him.

"Never, never, never expose your underbelly," his mother and father would exclaim, "never show your soft, pink underside to anyone because that is where you are most vulnerable." And so for most of his young life, the porcupine did just that. He learned that other animals, much larger and stronger, were wary and respectful of his prickly armor. Those that did test him, seldom came back a second time after experiencing his defenses.

But as the porcupine continued to grow up, after he had left the home of his parents to find his own den, more and more often he wondered why he had this soft underbelly in the first place that needed so much defending. Afterall, porcupines aren't a threat to anyone. He wondered and he wondered, but he came to no conclusions. As his father had said so many times before, "That's just the way it is, and always has been."

Often, when he was all alone, the porcupine would slowly stroke his soft belly, noting how tender it was. "I wish I could just lie on my back," he thought, "and let the sun just shine down on this soft old belly and make it warm." Every time he had this daydream, though, he heard his parents' voices reminding him to "never, never, never expose your underbelly." And then he would just sigh, and continue on his way.

But the urge to be able to expose his belly continued to grow and grow, and he wondered if he would ever find a spot where it might be safe enough to lie on his back for a while. He climbed to the highest point of rocks, thinking he'd hear any threatening animals coming up the hill. Looking and looking, listening and listening, he slowly began to roll over. For just a moment he lingered there, belly exposed for the first time, fighting back the voices of his parents. Suddenly he thought of the great hawks and eagles, soaring silently above, and realized he was easy prey for them. He quickly turned back over onto his feet, curling up into an impenetrable ball until the fear subsided.

He was quite exhilarated, though, while slowly walking down the hill. For that one brief moment, he was totally exposed to everything around him. The porcupine thought perhaps he could try a different place or type of terrain, but each time the outcome was the same. Exposed and alone, he heard each blade of grass bend, and each breath of air seemed to shout at him to protect himself.

When he asked his parents for advice, they thought him crazy. Curling up in their own defensive balls each time he even brought the subject up, they shuttered and shivered as he tried to explain his first few attempts. His father usually responded sarcastically with something like "Why don't you get rid of all your quills and just get it over with in a hurry." Mostly his mother simply could not understand why he really wanted to do such a thing. After each visit, the porcupine left a little depressed at the lack of support from his parents, but grew more determined to let that belly stare up at the sun or moon for a while.

"Maybe I could get someone else to watch over me," he thought, "and then they could watch out for anything that might harm me." Inspired by this idea, he set out to find some help. He felt it couldn't be any animals that would ever normally harm a porcupine. Although they manifested great courage and power, just the thought of exposing his belly with a fox, bear or lion nearby made him quiver with fear. "I need others just like me," he said, and wandered off to find some.

But it seemed that few other porcupines wanted to join him. Similar to his parents, most of them treated him like he was crazy. The few times he found one who would agree to help, each time they would say or do something that kept him from truly trusting them. Depressed but determined, he continued seeking out help from the other porcupines.

One day, a small she-deer approached. Wary and ready to flee in an instant, she felt this young porcupine to be harmless and different somehow from the others. The porcupine saw her, too, looking up and drawn inescapably to an old wound he saw on her belly. For a long, delicate moment they just stood there, each trying to understand how the other must feel but not knowing why.

"That's a painful scar you have there on your belly," the porcupine finally offered. The she-deer shied away just a bit, and quietly replied "It was done to me when I was small and unable to run away fast enough."

"Is it fully healed?" the porcupine asked.

"Well," she offered, "this scar protects the wound I still feel underneath. It's hard and brittle, so I can feel it almost all of the time, always keeping me on guard so it won't happen again."

"I guess I'm a little luckier," replied the porcupine. "I've spent my whole life protecting my belly so no one could hurt me. But lately for some reason, I seem compelled to lie on my back and just expose this old pink belly to the sky. I think if I could do that I'd somehow feel more alive than I do. Do you think that's crazy?"

The young she-deer walked closer. "Having our bellies exposed, either by force or by choice, helps us become more aware of our heart and feelings. I'm always afraid someone will come along and reopen my wound, so I try to keep it hidden."

"Perhaps if the wound was less noticeable, and the scar softer so you didn't always have to be reminded of it, you might be able to relax a little more."

"Yes'" she said sadly, "but deer are a lot like porcupines. We harm no one, but many feel the need to hurt us. So you need your quills to protect you, and I need my hearing and my speed."

"I would like to help soften your wound," the porcupine offered timidly. "I could touch and rub that spot for you, and maybe if I did it gently enough, you might not hurt all of the time. I'd keep a sharp lookout for any possible dangers, and I promise not to leave you until you're ready."

She thought for a moment, then added, "And you already said you were searching for someone to watch over you while you expose your belly. I could do that for you, and make you the same promises of watching out for you while you relax."

By now it was dark, often the most fearful time of the day. They lay down together, gingerly and awkwardly at first. The porcupine slowly and carefully touched the she-deer's ancient wound, and felt her fear and trepidation. She tensed, but ever so slowly began to relax just a little as the porcupine tenderly continued to rub and stroke her. He told her he was watching out, and that all was safe. The she-deer relaxed some more, and felt the brittleness of the scar tissue slowly dissolving.

She looked at the porcupine, her eyes pleading for the trust she hoped was really there. He smiled back at her, sensed her let go, and felt her scar diminish even further. They remained like this for quite a while, she experiencing trust for the first time and he, providing the safety.

Then with a soft sigh, she slowly stirred and moved, rolling toward the porcupine. The small she-deer nudged him over onto his back, reassuring his pleading and fearful eyes with a smile like he had given her. His body was tense and rigid. She laid so that one of her soft ears rested gently on his chest. She whispered, "I can hear your heart, and it's beautiful. As long as you feel me, you'll know I'm still here and everything is safe for you."

And after what seemed an indeterminable amount of time, the young porcupine let out an ancient and almost forgotten sigh of relief. And he lay there with the small she-deer, belly up, for a long, long time.

For more information, contact Bret.

Last Updated December 20, 2008