I think people define bravery too readily. We say that it means fighting for what you believe in, that it involves facing opposition and the possibility of risk.

While that may be true in some senses, I think that bravery in those terms is on the same spectrum as cowardice. It’s an action, a movement toward something and away from something else. Cowardice and avoidance are the same–movements away from what is feared and toward what is not.

I think that it takes much more bravery to stand still and honestly look at something, to notice something and instead of running away or running toward, simply being in existence with it.

It is very easy to be a person of action, but it is very difficult to maintain one’s state of honestly understanding and caring about something. That stillness, that inaction, is terrifying because with it comes a sense of confusion. And confusion is neither desirable nor tolerable.

What am I? Who am I? Those questions are answered every day in simple interactions. What am I? Who am I? We always need an answer.

It is much more terrifying and more demanding to simply be in a state of being without answering that question beyond the structure established in the question itself.

I am always told that I am brave. Courage seems to be a trait I have had since childhood, though I lost it for years when I only had myself to be courageous for.

They tell me I’m brave, but I cannot be still, in simple acceptance, not apathy for or negation of, not amalgamation with or separation from, but simple existence without change.



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