The Art of Bravery

When I was going into labour with my first child, I ran into a friend while out walking. When she saw my face, she took my hands in hers, looked me in the eyes, and whispered ‘be brave’. Such perfect tenderness at a moment when I was quite certain that I could neither push this baby out into the world, or care for him at all. Over the next many years, I took small and growing hands into mine, looked into worried eyes, and whispered ‘be brave’. And then I would whisper it silently to myself, stumbling awkwardly through the dance of courage and fear.

In my work, I help women find new ways of being in the world. When they have done the work of learning and reflecting and seeing the possibilities, it’s bravery that stands at the door holding their shoes and coats.

Recently, I have begun trying to unravel this bravery thing, pulling apart the threads of vulnerability, shame, compassion, perfectionism, failure, and empathy. One thing I have learned is this: we can only become brave by practicing bravery, by moving toward courage and tenderness with strong backs and soft hearts. The soul of bravery is found in rejecting ideals of perfectionism, allowing ourselves to be seen by leaning into vulnerability and authenticity, and knowing we are enough, and worthy of love and belonging. We are living a shared human experience.

This is the first instalment in a series called The Art of Bravery. Along with some thoughts about bravery, I will be creating and sharing some art work – venturing into a landscape that I left early in life, when the embarrassment and humiliation of poorly executed art interrupted any further attempts. Now I’ll reclaim this space with a firm resolution to be compassionate in the face of imperfection.

I am practicing being brave. I hope you will too.