What I Learned From A Pufferfish
Comedian Hannah Gadsby has this fabulous bit in one of their stand-up specials about reacting to certain situations the way a pufferfish would. They speak of having a visceral, immediate, and kind of immobilizing response, one that makes it difficult to think or maneuver as usual. This sort of thing requires a bit of time and patience to reverse.
As you’re reading this, you’ve probably involuntarily inflated your cheeks or otherwise rounded your posture. I’ll give you a second to relax all of that. I must confess, I get that way too. Nearly three decades as a philosopher, of training myself to not “puff up” whenever I’m faced with something concerning, and it still happens. At least now I’m able to recognize it, and like Hannah, to wait it out and avoid making any major decisions or judgements until it’s passed.
It probably hasn’t escaped your notice that there’s a lot of this sort of reaction going around. Call it knee-jerk, from the gut, even Pavlovian, but it seems to be the default setting at the moment. We see, we hear, we feel, but we don’t think, and we spend time trying to navigate all this strangeness while in an altered, agitated state. There’s so much going on in the world right now that deserves and requires patient, rational thought, not to mention discussion, and we’re handling things (and each other) with all the delicacy and care of a woodchipper.
When I set out to write another kids’ book, I decided to use the noble, but somewhat reactive pufferfish as a jumping off point. I thought about all the ways we 21st century humans tend to react when we’re faced with a difficult question, a challenging idea, or any sort or disagreement or confrontation. Spoiler: it ain’t pretty.
How could I encourage nuance, composure, dialogue, and open-mindedness in an era of losing one’s ‘ish?
I went looking for other animals that tend to have strong reactions to danger , frustration, or confusion. There were a lot, and a bunch didn’t make the cut (sorry sea cucumber, but I can’t make expelling one’s innards work in a kids’ book). In the end, there were 10. Some animals tended to get bigger, some used distractions, some chose violence, some took off, and one even ditched body parts. In each of them, there was the same nugget of wisdom: this works for other animals, but humans don’t have to do this. It is, in fact, decidedly to our detriment. Our skills and advantages as humans sit in the way we think (or at least are capable of thinking), and it’s a terrible shame not to use what we’ve got.
So, I wrote about all of these fascinating creatures, and the way they handle adversity. I made it rhyme, coated it in a healthy dose of silly, and the very talented Klaudia Maziec went to town designing a bunch of adorable, disgruntled animals.
And now it’s out there. If it sounds like I wrote it for the benefit of big people too, well, that’s true for a lot of my stuff. It’s something we need to instil in our kids as they wade through the nonsense, but it’s not too late for us grown-ups. I hope you and your little thinker get a laugh out of it, and I hope it’s a gentle reminder that even as confusing and disheartening as things are right now, there are alternatives to fight, flight, or freeze, at least for us homo sapiens.
Happy thinking!
