Courage. (Archive)

This was originally published in September 2008. It's a quick read before "Loss" and "Classics", both of which will be posted soon.

Occasionally I don a helmet. Additionally, I designed a coffee mug that reads, “Fierce Warrior.” I can take a punch without wincing. Instinctively, I assemble walls to ensure that I am protected and untouchable. I talk tough. It is not that I relate to the violent aspects of warriors; I’m a pacifist and do everything in my power to subdue aggression. What I do relate to is the mentality of helmet-wearers. It’s having pluck, having grit, having mettle, having spunk. It is having the spirit to face exposure and vulnerability to risk with self-assuredness. It is approaching fear and pain with poise and confidence that it shall pass. It is handling vicissitudes with aplomb.

I am by no means spectacularly courageous. I get by. Many professions demand bravery from the moment one punches the clock. Firefighters, police officers, and soldiers are constantly challenged with life-threatening situations. I certainly have admiration for them, but also a realistic viewpoint that they have chosen those vocations knowing full well the dangers. I am appreciative of their service and admire their commitment. At times, they display tremendous heroic behavior, such as after the 9-11 attacks. Alas, crises do occur that require their training and judgment, in a different manner than retail clerks and computer programmers.

What about clerks and programmers? Writers and tellers? Teachers and postmen? Do they have to don invisible helmets from time to time? Absolutely. Courage is ever present in humanity, even if inconspicuous. One need not be savage to exhibit valor. I have been fortunate to know many courageous individuals, exhibiting fortitude and brio through illness, grief, heartbreak, and devastation. From them, I learn and grow but only if I’m paying attention. I watch one person speak in front of others despite absolute terror. I watch another reveal fear and insecurities in a quest for assistance. Yet another braves through rejection and still continues applying for employment. And from children, I learn about approaching life without the hindrances of ego and self-consciousness which glom onto us as we age. My good friend, Kadence, belted out a rousing interpretation of “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star” with nary a bead of nervous sweat or hand-wringing, positive that her singing would delight all present, which it did. Children have courage without any semblance of what it is or means.

On my quest to become more human, I study the behaviors of those I admire and respect. This always includes those with bravery and backbone. Incidentally, the coffee mug I had made does have in small lettering, “Injured Kitten” on the opposite side of “Fierce Warrior.” I struggle with the balance at times, realizing that dichotomy is continual as we function and adjust. Though life can be perilous, remaining calm and composed are characteristics I have found requisite to invoke courage. I am fond of the term, sang-froid, which literally means “cold blood” in French; its truer meaning is, “keeping one’s shit together.” Perhaps I will have that inked on either side of the mug, centering my duality. Or etched into my helmets. And regarding my helmets, some people have indicated that my inclination to wear them is brave in a free-spirited manner. In truth, wearing helmets and/or plaid pants disinclines much of humanity from having contact with me. Since my greatest fear is the danger of people, this works out well. There’s always a catch, isn’t there? Attributed to boldness and lack of concern for others’ opinions, but in fact, a method of distance and detachment. Not courage, but rather a clever concealment of cowardice. Yeah, I’m pretty cool.