BRAVE

I've had friends tell me in recent years that I am brave.  This is a compliment that I have never really understood.  What would possibly make me brave? Perhaps people think I'm brave because I'm honest about who I am, maybe it's because I get up in front of people and play piano or sing. Perhaps my willingness to explore topics related to faith, death, yoga, or maybe going places by myself makes me brave. Maybe it's because I don't always feel the need to conform.  

What does it mean to be brave?   Does it mean to live without fear, to live without worry?   Does it mean one is always strong? I don't honestly know.   Maybe it is at least appearing to be comfortable in one's own skin.  Maybe bravery is marching to the beat of one's own drum, disregarding a world of critics.     

Here's my confession:   Some days I think the most brave thing I do is get out of bed.    It's not always easy. What, with a day ahead of me that is, at best, uncertain, what is my motivation to get out of bed and trod into that world?   If that makes me brave, then, yes, by all means, call me brave.   If I'm being completely honest with myself, I am often full of fear.   I'm fearful of coming face to face with the things or people in my life with which I'd rather not deal, those deep and painful things which reside just below the surface.   It's the forgiveness that needs to be given, the degree that needs to be earned, the life that needs to be lived that has been too afraid to live.  

I hope someday to see the bravery that others see in me.   It's a cruel damn world out there.   It is my prayer that I will allow bravery to win, to let go of fears, to do what I need to do, to say what I need to say, to be an example and to let go of the things that hold me captive, because the truth of the matter is that I am my own worst enemy.   I need to get out of my own way and be brave.