What It Takes To Be Brave.
To the war
That you fight
When you think
Because I can see
Your bright light
From miles away
To bury it.
There is a great myth that exists about the quality of bravery. Those who have known the most fearlessness have not been perfectly composed. They may not have had a hand to hold other than their own.
They may, with a shaking voice, have been unsure of what to say. Bravery may be the simple act of arriving. It may be the heroism to simply stand tall when you’re unsure if you’re anything at all.
It is not refuting that the very beating of your heart means that you are doing it all correctly, and even when you can’t see it, you are dripping in medals from the courageous battles you’ve waged.
Each time you show up to truly see the face of another, you are changing the course of history. Bravery exists in living the fear that we are not enough, and standing up anyway because anything else would simply put the fire out.
It is the gift of being seen, heard, and felt. All of this time riding the waves of uncertainty, you’ve been at the front lines, carrying the weight of those whom you love without question. Carrying the weight and heat of yourself without question.
It is the vulnerability of spilling open without reservation.
An unstoppable flood of human qualities so relentless in their brevity that the only option is to remember that you’re breathing, therefore, you are alive, and you’re the most alive you’ve ever been.
It is the gradual, and then instant, increase in how loudly you can speak the strings of things you’ve held for so long. It’s your breath, still in the morning, and how it carries you through the day. It’s the cracks where the light gets in.
It is not the parade or pretend-play of everything is okay, and no, no, the kingdom is perfectly polished. It is arriving as you are. Exactly as you are.
Each moment of arriving, a purple-hearted tribute to the collective and unwavering magnificence of what it really takes to be here now.
No small feat to survey the depths and then rise again, gasping, to remember the way the sun hits the sea — it’s true that everything glimmers when heat meets water and, therefore, you must pour.
The releasing, the drum in the hollows of your chest beating you forward, the goddess and the warrior meeting hands in your heart and beckoning you forward.
There has never been a question of what you are capable of because within you are crystal caves so remarkable that we are all brought to our knees when we’re finally allowed to see them, so open.
This is the great task, to open the vault and set all of the hidden things out to play and dance with each other. They only keep you up at night or at war in your mind because they are begging for air.
Fire needs air to burn, and they wish to greet the others, to let you know that you’re not the only one harboring the hot truth and the things you won’t say. That your white light, white heat, breeds tremendously and coats everything you touch.
Pouring, just pouring out of you, and when you quiet your resistance, you will see the ocean upon which you can sail, straight into the kind of unfathomable bliss that is your true home.
To get there, you must arrive. Shaking, shivering, screaming, howling, dancing, you must arrive.
You must open the vaults and pour.
This is the quality of bravery. Flooding each moment with your magic and intricate interior, until you have truly allowed yourself to be witnessed. Shaken out by the Beloved. Flipped upside down by the great mystery.
Looking up, with eyes open, to see that all of the love you have given has opened windows and doors where once people only dreamt of walking.
Amor fati painted across your eyelids and lungs the size of countries, because you really can breathe it all. You are bravest when you come like this.
Walking quietly or rollicking and careening through moments, letting the wild parts of you out to pray. You are bravest when you open. You are bravest when you arrive.
You are bravest when you lay down your arms and walk onto the field bare, looking straight into the eyes of everything that has been waiting patiently.