Stay brave. Stay courageous.
I've always been a big fan of words. I've learned that words carry weight, sometimes more than sticks or stones, so the old school yard taunt doesn't really hold up. Not for me anyway. And I've been told in the past that I'm good with words. I can articulate my thoughts and feelings coherently and boil things down to the heart of the matter. I've become adept at speaking my heart. A skill I've come to value more than speaking one's mind. When I speak my heart, I speak from a place of empathy, compassion, vulnerability, and courage. As Brene Brown said, courage is a heart word. For the root of the word courage is cor, Latin for heart. Speaking from the heart has graced me with deep relationships, intimate conversations, and moments of connection that keep me grounded and anchored. More importantly, speaking from the heart keeps me tethered to humanity and to the human connection.
You can't speak your heart when you're hiding behind a mask. You can't speak your heart when you're wearing your armor, on the offensive, and posed for war. Be brave. Be courageous. And be prepared for hurt. Speaking my heart leaves me defenseless at times and that means the hurt can cut deeper. Does cut deeper. Leaves bruises you can't see on the surface. That's the thing about being courageous. You can swing for the fences with all your might and completely miss the ball. You can leap with no regard for the depth of the fall and fall hard. We praise the courageous for the reward can be great. Oh so great. But the loss can be gutting. I forget sometimes what I'm fighting for. I lose sight, get off course, and find myself tossed around by all life can throw at us. By the mess.
A friend told me recently she appreciates my vulnerability. My willingness to lay it all on the line knowing there's no guarantee I've been dealt a winning hand. Be brave. Be courageous. My mantra. I do it because I don't know another way to be. I'm wired that way. And yet it's exhausting. Draining. I wonder sometimes what the alternative is. Would my life be as colorful, as bright, as vibrant? Would my relationships carry the same weight, the same value, the same depth? Would I hurt less? Close myself off to more? Have more regrets about past possibilities I never explored? Would I still be me?
And yet, through it all, the call to speak my heart rings true. Rings loud. Bruised, battered, beaten, but never out. You build your army. You find the people who speak their heart and you hold them tight. You ask them to be your armor, your home run, your safety net when you need to regroup. They get it because they've been there. Are there. Will be there. You show up for these people because with a simple call or text, they show up for you.
Stay brave. Stay courageous.
You can't speak your heart when you're hiding behind a mask. You can't speak your heart when you're wearing your armor, on the offensive, and posed for war. Be brave. Be courageous. And be prepared for hurt. Speaking my heart leaves me defenseless at times and that means the hurt can cut deeper. Does cut deeper. Leaves bruises you can't see on the surface. That's the thing about being courageous. You can swing for the fences with all your might and completely miss the ball. You can leap with no regard for the depth of the fall and fall hard. We praise the courageous for the reward can be great. Oh so great. But the loss can be gutting. I forget sometimes what I'm fighting for. I lose sight, get off course, and find myself tossed around by all life can throw at us. By the mess.
A friend told me recently she appreciates my vulnerability. My willingness to lay it all on the line knowing there's no guarantee I've been dealt a winning hand. Be brave. Be courageous. My mantra. I do it because I don't know another way to be. I'm wired that way. And yet it's exhausting. Draining. I wonder sometimes what the alternative is. Would my life be as colorful, as bright, as vibrant? Would my relationships carry the same weight, the same value, the same depth? Would I hurt less? Close myself off to more? Have more regrets about past possibilities I never explored? Would I still be me?
And yet, through it all, the call to speak my heart rings true. Rings loud. Bruised, battered, beaten, but never out. You build your army. You find the people who speak their heart and you hold them tight. You ask them to be your armor, your home run, your safety net when you need to regroup. They get it because they've been there. Are there. Will be there. You show up for these people because with a simple call or text, they show up for you.
Stay brave. Stay courageous.
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