What is Brave?

Am I brave?

I read recently a post by someone who didn’t feel themselves brave and was watching others charging at the world and seeing themselves in comparisson ( https://www.facebook.com/The-Voice-Of-Grace-Whispers-In-The-Sand-105104854644749 ). It got me thinking.

I have an odd view of bravery, I think.
It’s not about the lack of fear because doing something that doesn’t scare you is much easier. No, I don’t see bravery in the blind charge. In crowds supporting each other to do what needs to be done even though it’s scary – there is bravery.
Yet, for me, the bravest has to be those who don’t know they’re brave; the quiet voices who do what’s right though no one sees them and when they are alone; the ones who are true to what they feel is right even when they feel deserted.

I say this and another recent change comes to mind.
From childhood I’ve always desperately wanted to be in a group, with the safety of knowing I’m right by weight of numbers; validated by my peers. It’s scary thinking you’re on a path alone and so easy to just cut a bit of yourself away so you fit as one of the rest.
It’s odd when you get to the point that you suddenly realise that it doesn’t matter what others think anymore because I can’t and won’t cut away another piece of me.

I don’t know if that’s brave or, maybe, just a fool patting himself on the back for something he should have known long ago.
Maybe it doesn’t matter. At least I can be me.

You see, I’ve wrapped myself in crowds and ideas of what I should be, to try and hide the hole in me. I’ve cowered, I’ve charged.
I’ve felt alone when those who truly cared about me were right beside me, listening.
They didn’t seem that important then, or close, because they wouldn’t wrap and hide my wounds or transport me away from myself. They loved me too much for that.
I miss them so much now, those that have passed, and am finally starting to see those who are still there with me.

That’s what they were waiting for, and what I’ve needed for so long. Not something to fill my hole, just to stop running away from it. To stop looking for the bright lights and big banners in life and realise that there’s love in the silence and pastel shades.

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So, in reply to the post which started me on this thought process – When someone opens their heart and stops running; When they look in themselves instead of turning their eyes; When they don’t need to change who they are to accept themselves. Then they are brave, and that’s what I read in the words of yours – someone brave enough to write that they didn’t feel it and strong enough to keep walking forward through their fears.

Image by M. Maggs from Pixabay


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