One of my sewing students made a stuffed octopus. It was fuzzy rather than slimy, and the eight legs were too short to reach under a rock in search of clams. But it was a nod to her appreciation for these remarkable animals. 

 

I watched a documentary about them and the photography was incredible. It showed the octopus, whose name is Scarlett, reaching an arm dotted with suckers toward the diver whose name is Alex. She was elated to touch and be touched. Those suckers are five times more sensitive than my fingertips, which helps an octopus understand her surroundings. 

 

For Scarlett to be willing to set aside her fear of the unknown, she had to give the reigns to her curiosity. Living in a world where bigger often means danger, this was brave. There are precious few overlapping parts of the anatomy of octopuses and humans. Eyes are that sweet spot, and it is there that Scarlett and Alex connected. 

 

Being a watery world, there were no words exchanged, nor smells. Yet they developed a friendship that grew over two years. Alex watched the cooperation of Scarlett with a trout, in which the octopus pointed out prey that the fish had overlooked. Alex decided to try this, by pointing out clams that Scarlett had missed. It worked. 

 

There are people in my world that I am afraid of. Their opinions, their judgments, their backlash all send me into flight mode. Yet seeing the courage of this cephalopod inspires me. Even those whose stance is vastly different from mine are worth reaching out to.