Punch the Macque

Like millions of people from around the world, I have become enamored of Punch the Macaque. I look forward to seeing new video clips of him and I follow his progress online. I initially thought this pastime was a mindless form of entertainment. But, upon reflection, I think it might be more than that. Punch now lives in a Japanese zoo near Tokyo and has had challenges from birth, when he was rejected by his mother. I do not know the details of that misfortune, but his bad luck followed him when he moved to the zoo, where he was slowly introduced to his new cohort. He was initially rejected by his new community there as well. The Swedish based home furnishings company, IKEA sent a stuffed animal that resembled a monkey, and sure enough Punch attached to that toy as if it were a real-life primate. IKEA continued sending the exact model, as each became quickly worn out by Punch, who dragged the toy everywhere, clutching it like a life preserver. The most adorable videos are of Punch settling in for naps, sucking his thumb, and snuggling with his security attachment toy.

As I dug deeper, trying to understand my attraction to Punch, I landed on the most obvious explanations. The world is a mess and, like the millions in my latest cohort, I need a mindless entertainment distraction. What better than a darling little animal. When I first followed the story of Punch, I assumed it would have a happy ending, otherwise it was a sadistic offering, which I believed was unlikely from a research zoo. I almost always click on baby animal videos when I “surf the net”: rescued orphaned elephants (I hold a fantasy of working as a caregiver for a baby elephant at a rescue facility), kid goats, puppies, kittens, colts, lambs, lion cubs, and others.  I thought this was just another little creature that supports my animal lover instincts.

And, too, there’s the memory of my own childhood stuffed animal, Jackie the monkey. I loved her until she became threadbare, but unlike Punch’s benefactor, IKEA, an unending replacement source did not exist for me. In addition to losing her fur, Jackie’s rubber-like hands and feet were substitute pacifiers, and her fat stuffed belly was a perfect pillow. Years ago, when my parents were moving, I went through a box of childhood belongings my parents had saved, thinking I would someday want to revisit some of the cherished objects of my childhood. Among the items saved was Jackie the monkey, looking quite ratty. There were signs of attempted repair, no doubt my resourceful mother’s handy work. Jackie would have resided better in my memory than in that decades-old toy chest. After my initial shock of seeing her in such a decrepit state, Iremembered just how much of my young life we had shared. She was my transitional object, and I remember her vividly and joyfully, unlike some of the other objects in that box, like dolls and sundry other “girly” items.

Transitional objects are primarily meant for children as they move from dependence to autonomy and independence. Items such as blankets, plush toys, and even pacifiers help when young children have naptime. Then more sophisticated items, such as a keychain toy attached to a backpack, or a special hat, or sneakers, when children start school. Adults, too, though, sometimes use transition objects to help with emotional regulation, stress reduction, and big life changes. My husband used to work with a man that traveled with his favorite pillow. He hated sleeping in hotels, and having his special pillow made him more comfortable and the whole travel-for-work process less stressful.

I was sharing the idea of this blog with one of my daughters, who reminded me that I ruined her favorite transition object when she was about five. It was a stuffed Persian cat named Spikey. She had been sick and so I threw her blankets and stuffed animals in the washer. Spikey did okay in the wash, but not so well in the dryer. She came out looking more like a Poodle than a Persian cat. Lizzie was devastated then, and, by the tone of our conversation, I am not sure she is yet over it! If this was an online post, I would add a laughing emoji here. My oldest daughter, Emily, lost her favorite transition object to sickness, too. Only in her case we were traveling in Mexico and no clean-up option was available. I don’t think she’s ever forgiven me for not having a solution to her dilemma. Such is the destiny for mothers, imperfect and often not able to meet the moment. Another laughing emoji, please.

While I truly believe transition objects serve a valuable purpose in emotional security, my observations regarding Punch and his plush monkey buddy have evolved over this last month.

What has played on my heartstrings, and probably that of millions of his other followers, is our identifying with Punch’s basic need to belong. While Punch’s attachment to the IKEA monkey was adorable, giving viewers comfort seeing Punch cuddle and hold onto his buddy when he was uncomfortable, I hoped  Punch would eventually gain acceptance from his new macaque community. There were hard-to-watch snippets of him being dragged by a big, tough  macaque, until one of the elder leaders came to his rescue. Each difficult encounter was followed by a zookeeper explaining that these were rites of passage that Punch needed to experience in order to learn the pecking order, and his place in the community.

We all go through these times as well, trying to belong. Finding our people and our place in the pecking order, whether at a job, a newly joined community after moving, an organization we join, a sports group, or a new family of choice. It is all challenging. Unlike Punch, most of us are not rejected by our mothers or families of origin. We also are not required to go through physically harsh treatment by community members should we break a tacit agreement of behavior. For purposes of this blog, I am omitting the heartbreaking cases of people who do go through Punch’s type of treatment, everything from being rejected by one’s mother to physical abuse within one’s community. These circumstances are worthy of our serious attention from a moral standpoint.

I am, by nature, an outgoing person with a big personality, but I am not an extrovert. I don’t enjoy teams, big groups, conferences, or large-scale events. My social engagement preferences include small groups, intimate gatherings, meaningful dialog exchanges, and being known and knowing others. That laundry list of dislikes requires extra work to belong. I struggle finding the balance between being social and having my introspective, alone time to express myself creatively, spiritually, and find my “Zen”. I am happy belonging to a small cadre of like-minded folks. With some friends I like to talk shop, with others workout, bike, hike, garden, travel, camp, and my favorite—create business opportunities. Not too many at a time.

Brene Brown talks about the difference between belonging and fitting in. For years I did what I had to do to “fit in” to the many different social circles I encountered through my personal evolution, often requiring me to change who I was. Sometimes those changes were a bridge too far, a burden too heavy. I would suffer through those times.  Knowing I had my few closest ones to hold me in my darkest hours kept me buoyant. Belonging is simply being accepted as our most authentic self. Fitting-in is exhausting and lowers our self-esteem through a sense of not being worthy of acceptance just as you are.

Leadership at all levels in community, whether a neighborhood, school, house of worship, family—of origin or choice—requires a sense of purpose and core values. My partner had a dear friend and colleague who used to say, “I don’t always know what I would do, but I know what I’d never do.” That mantra is like a north star, always lighting your path, even when no one else is carrying a lamp. That is who you are no matter what.

So like Punch, there are certain tests we go through to survive in and among our own people—the people we did not choose, but where we were deposited. For the most part, we figure out what to do there. Most of us. And at some point, we also move on and create our own families. The transition objects we use to get through those years of evolving are varied, yet important. The healthy transition is from objects and activities--work, games (golf, tennis, basketball etc.), computer, entertainment—to people. Attachment. Who and how we attach leads us to find balance with the other aspects of life Those are essential in the mix, but not at the expense of attachment. Ultimately, we stay connected to our roots, and grow our place of belonging to include attachment bond relationships.

Punch learned many of his lessons, some more easily than others. A few of the elder female macaques adopted him, and he also bonded with a few peers and now has friends. It is so cute to see him frolicking, instead of cowering or simply observing. As we age, it is important to continually take stock of our lives and attachments. Having a variety of folks in different age groups is important in a quickly evolving world, where the rules of engagement can change as quickly as the weather. We learn from each other and grow from having trusted friends, lovers, and/or partners, new and old. Generations can teach each other. But belonging is best left for your own evaluation. Unlike Punch, we have choices to stay or leave. We never have to change to belong. We simply have to be who we are. We know our people when we are at ease - loved, honored, valued, and cherished for who we are.

With Gratitude.