Today, just for kicks, I’m linking up with a group of online folks who participate in what’s called Five Minute Friday – you write for five minutes only, saying no to the backspace key and editing altogether, and you see what comes out on the other end of your timer. I kind of like it.
When I was little, being brave meant doing something really, really daring and courageous. It meant riding your bike down the super steep hill or holding your breath for a second too long underwater, or hiding in that dark and scary place during a game of hide-n-go seek. It was always associate with the outward action, I suppose.
Here we are, a “few” years later, and I wonder if it’s changed so much.
What does it mean to be brave amongst a group of 30 and 40-something year old men and women? How can I show bravery to my son and with my husband?
Bravery now takes the form of realness and authenticity, which I suppose is just like riding down that bumpy, steep hill, unaware of whether or not you’re going to fall. See, I want to avoid the pitfalls. I want to dodge the stick in the middle of the road, as to ensure that I stay secure on top of my banana seat bike. But staying on top doesn’t always make for a good story, nor does it mean that I’ve been brave in the best and fullest way possible.
So today I take that one tiny step in this big, wide world of bravery.
Want to join in? Go for it! (Wish the link button worked, but I can’t seem to get it to post properly).0