The Grizzly Momma

Grizzly Momma

Imagine that a mother grizzly has five cubs, conveniently named Cub Number One, Cub Number Two, Cub Number Three, Cub Number Four, and Cub Number Five. At first they don’t do much. They stay in the den, where they nurse and sleep and their mother cleans them. After their eyes open, they start exploring, and when they do, Cub Number Five always explores a bit farther than the other cubs and comes back a bit later.

First they explore the den and then come back to nursing. Then they explore the room and come back to nursing. Next they start exploring other rooms, beyond mother grizzly’s line of sight. Throughout, Cub Number Five always goes a bit farther and returns a bit later. Then, one day, four of the cubs have returned and are nursing, but not Cub Number Five. He remains somewhere beyond the mother grizzly’s line of sight. Suddenly, she hears the mewling of a cub in distress. What do we see her do? Go toward the cub by the shortest path?

And once she gets to Cub Number Five, we see her pick him up by the scruff of his neck and bring him back to the den. And next we see her lick him until he’s calmed down and gone back to nursing.  In fact, in some way or another, we see almost all mammals do that. Except, maybe humans.  We might see humans do something similar to what cats do: take the shortest path to go meet the little one in distress, bring it to a place of safety, and provide comfort until such time as it’s soothed.

But perhaps we don’t always take the shortest path to find our little one who’s in danger. In fact, we might say, “Not now, I’m busy. Wait until your father comes back!” Possible or impossible?

Or we might go straight to our little one in distress but then demand an immediate and detailed explanation.

Or we might mock: “Look at our courageous explorer—not so courageous anymore!”

Or we might invalidate: “Stop whining! You have no reason to be scared!”

Or we might threaten: “Stop crying right now, or I’ll give you a good reason to cry!”

Or we might run in the other direction.

Or we might cover our ears and say, “I don’t want to hear you anymore!”

Or we might say, “What did I do to deserve you and all the trouble you cause?”

Or we might even roll our eyes and wail, “If only I didn’t have you, my life would be so much simpler!”

There’s a whole range of things that humans can be seen doing other than that instinctive move of going straight to our little one in distress, bringing it to a place of safety, and giving it comfort until it’s soothed. And what about you? When Cub Number Five of your negative self-judgments, shame, or painful feelings or thoughts starts voicing its distress in the distance, what do you notice yourself doing? Do you go straight to it to bring it to a place of safety? Do you comfort it until it’s soothed? Or do you notice that you do one of these other things we’ve just looked at—or perhaps something else?