Bravery vs Courage

     I recently wrapped up a graduate level course on leadership, and one of the largest overarching themes we discussed was what Bravery is, and what Courage is.

    I also happened to finish reading Atmosphere by Taylor Jenkins Reid (sobbed, btw) where one of my favorite lines of text happened to be about Bravery and Courage:

            "Bravery... is almost always a lie. Courage is all we have."

    So what is bravery and courage, and how are they different? To me, bravery is almost like a mask that can be worn, displaying a lack of fear and acting boldly; but courage takes vulnerability. An acceptance that despite the fear and uncertainty through making a choice, the importance of making the courageous choice has more positive benefits than not. In class we talked about how at our most human level, vulnerability is a willingness to get into that state of discomfort either through risk, uncertainty, or emotional exposure, and more importantly, that "vulnerability is our most accurate measure of courage."

    Micaela (my editor) and I have had conversations about how direct some of my poems are, and candidly asking how comfortable do I feel sharing some of these details. I'll be honest, I shared that I was/am a bit terrified.

    She continued on to share how what is not said is just as important as what is being explicitly said, and that it takes courage to have blank spaces on the page for the reader to interpret on their own DESPITE that being potentially different than what the writer intends (she always says 'the writer' because even though I wrote all these poems, many of them are years old and I am a different person now than I was when I wrote them, so the writer is all these different versions of myself, essentially frozen in time by the poem). As I've been continuing this editing process, I've been thinking more about how I can create spaces for the reader to have their own interpretations rather than just digesting the writer's point of view; it has been challenging and rewarding in the same breath.

    It does feel odd talking about how my writing (and eventual publishing) of these poems is a form of vulnerability, and how the writing in its own way is a courageous move, but more than anything this has sparked more thought about how I can be courageous in smaller ways daily, or how to celebrate friends' courageous choices. Lately, I've been enjoying the thought that moving with and through fear, or any other typically "negative" emotion, is the cheat code, not ignoring it.

Be courageous friends - until next time,

Sewit