The world is hostile, which instinctively pushes us to grow all sorts of armors called identities or egos. These armors that we cherish, we use them as a shield that protects us from the repeated assaults of an environment that we imagine as an enemy. Slowly but surely our whole being is metamorphosing, we are no longer quite human if not reptilian. We crawl to escape the malicious blows, each contact makes us stronger, at least the crust of this carapace thickens so much that it obstructs our vision.
We come to wallow in this reality because it is above all the only one we know. We feel proud of having been able to avoid the traps that have been put in our way, just as our toughness – the very fruit of this acclimatization – is just as much a source of satisfaction and pride. Is turning into a turtle the only option we have? Can we triumph over our opponents in any other way than by looking like them?
A wrestler often has only two strategies for winning a match: be the most resilient or be the fastest. Being tough means being able to take longer hits and being fast means being flexible and somewhat relaxed.
The turtle bets on its resistance when, if it had chosen another path, it could have turned its weakness into strength and vice versa. The vulnerability that we can show reduces the thickness of our armor. It is painful because it feels like we are being stripped bare. However, if we repeat this exercise enough, we can get rid of what turns out to be a burden. When our skin is thin, it is at this moment that wings can grow to carry us to the firmament or simply to make us take height. It is by letting a part of ourselves die that we can reinvent ourselves and rise from the ashes. To become a firebird, a phoenix, it is up to us to get rid of our last bark in order to be light as air, to take flight and contemplate life in a new light.
