The multifaceted nature of courage

Yesterday, I had a rare and unique opportunity to spend the afternoon with a great friend - someone I greatly admire. While I expected to meet with this friend for lunch, catch up, and then go about our days, I was astonished and flattered that my friend chose to take the rest of the work day off in order to spend time together.

For the better half of our afternoon, we discussed the meaning of courage.

In our conversation, we realized that courage has a duplicitous nature. We could both think of people in our lives who have shown indisputable courage, and yet, we found, over and over again, that courage can mean a variety of things to different people, and under different circumstances -- and as often is the case, all seem accurate.

For instance, in both of our families, our parents showed the courage to let go and have faith in the unknown when they chose to immigrate to this country years ago, leaving behind "the known" of their home countries and of their family and friends for promises of a better future.

On the other hand, my parents also showed an incredible amount of tenacious courage when they were very young and they decided to get married and convert to a new religion against the approval of their families and friends. We thought of several situations that fit the latter example as well.

So what does it mean to have courage, exactly?

My experience has taught me that the most powerful and desirable form of courage is the courage to choose. Choosing to let go of what you don't need, and to hang on to what you do need most. The most courageous people in my life weren't necessarily the most adventurous or fearless, they were the people who chose what they would and would not stand for.

It takes courage to endure through challenging times. When facing a crossroads, we show bravery and grit in order to take a stand for the things that really matter to us.

I often forget that it also takes equal determination to let go, or to turn back when we have been wrong. Letting go and stepping out of a situation that would otherwise create more harm than good in the long run takes courage and a great amount of faith.

I have made the sad mistake of assuming that letting go is synonymous with giving up. I'm ashamed to admit that for too long, I believed that only those who are afraid and weak let go or change the path of their journey. I have needed to amend my paradigm.

I strongly believe that it takes a special courage to have the audacity to fight for your happiness, which could mean letting go of something that's wrong for you. This especially takes courage when it pins us against social mores, like our parents who decided to leave behind the known of their homeland, for the unknown of immigrating to the United States.

When facing a crossroads, it takes courage to walk down either path - to continue forward with faith in the unknown or to change and show faith by turning back when you've been wrong.

In a recent Mormon Message video, I was reminded that when making decisions, God expects us to pray, trust, and be believing and then not give up, panic, or "jump ship" when something doesn't seem to be going right. This is the message I was accustomed to hearing. HOWEVER, it taught me something new as well. It taught me that sometimes, when faced with a fork in the road, the way to the "right road" requires that we go down a wrong path for a brief time in order to recognize, when we turn back, that the path we are going on is ABSOLUTELY the right one (Wrong Roads).

For everything we hang on to, we are must let go of something else. I used to believe that human being ought to strive for perfection in all things, and that life was one huge balancing act in which I was supposed to become great in all things: all relationships ought to be forever, and we should always endure to the end.

While that's certainly an ideal I catch myself stubbornly seeking to adhere to over and over again, I have found that it is unrealistic and self-destructive. Human beings can only choose what they will stand for; what they will choose to perfect; what mountains are worth climbing, or what battles are worth fighting.

We cannot be everything, succeed at everything -- and the journey to becoming someone, believing in something, and having courage, requires us to let go of many things that are good for the things that are great, and not worth living without.

We must fight for these things. We must show the courage to endure here.

And with wisdom and faith, we must search our souls to uncover what this means for each of us.


Comment below if you have anything to add.

Our greatest asset

“Our needs are our greatest assets. It turns out I’ve learned to give all the things I need.” 

- Andrew Solomon

The above quote blew me away when I heard it earlier during Solomon's TEDTalk. It inspired me to evaluate the things I most desperately yearn for in my life, and made me wonder how I should go about turning these needs, or weaknesses, into strengths (Ether 12:27) in the way that Solomon was able to do.

Most importantly, Solomon reminded me of a lesson I learned long ago about the good that can come from tribulation (D&C 122:6-7). It reminded me that the things we lack often hold the potential to become great blessings in our lives. After all, if I have suffered some unfortunate event, this pain grants me exclusive insight.

I take comfort in the knowledge that my painful experiences allow me to empathize with those who have suffered similar pain. In experiencing the need for something - whether it be physical, emotional, or spiritual - we can develop a greater ability to show compassion. No one needs to feel like they are fighting a battle on their own.

Please be mindful that I am NOT perfect at living his principle yet. I still find myself wallowing in self pity from time to time on a daily basis. I resist the wisdom of seeing the greater picture, and I narrow my focus to only my life, and my suffering. When I do this, I feel almost completely engulfed by my weaknesses.

So I'm glad Solomon, and those more diligent in following this ideal, continue to remind me that the way out of our metaphorical abyss is to use the things we KNOW (even when all we seem to know is pain or struggle). We can become experts in our struggle, and find passion in overcoming those challenges so that we can then lend a hand to those in need.

Indeed, this ability can become our greatest asset if we choose it.

Comment below if you have anything to add.

The art of losing

One Art

The art of losing isn't hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster.

Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant
to travel. None of these will bring disaster.

I lost my mother's watch. And look! my last, or
next-to-last, of three loved houses went.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn't a disaster.

- Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
I love) I shan't have lied. It's evident
the art of losing's not too hard to master
though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.

Elizabeth Bishop

In one way or another, we all experience loss throughout life. As Bishop points out in one of my preferred poems above, the art of losing is one that all participate in, though in varying degrees.

We may lose trivial things, like our keys or an hour of the day, without any serious repercussions. With simple losses such as these, we may overlook the habit that forms. It comes with ease. We may even, with time, turn calloused to the loss of the little things.

 We all eventually learn about great loss - we lose track of what path our life should follow, or may lose significant moments in our pasts. Without any conscious decision of our own, we learn about the loss of a loved one.

Though these losses all feel like tragedy in the moment, Bishop reminds us that with time, we forget the pain that comes from loss. Our wounds eventually heal, and we must continue forward.

And nobody likes to feel pain. Why should they? So why no forget? Why not push it out of our minds?

I'm not sure I have an answer here. I do it too, all the time. I push the hurt out of my mind. I occupy my time and energy with other things, even meaningful things. And I forget about loss for a while, until it strikes again.

Perhaps the real disaster lies in forgetting the importance of the things or people we have lost along the way. I wonder whether the real tragedy in loss is that our default is to forget and move on. 

We need to give ourselves time to heal. But I don't believe we should forget. In fact, I think we do ourselves a disservice if we avoid confronting the loss we experience, and we refuse to look over into the abyss. It can teach us incredible things about ourselves.

In spite of the pain.

Finding motivation

Do you ever have one of those days when you find yourself overwhelmingly confused by the actions of someone you care about? When you waste countless hours racking your brain for a reason behind their words or deeds, and trying to understand whether they are doing the right thing, or the wrong thing? When you find yourself perplexed by their motivations?

Does that happen to you often?

I have those days on a regular basis. I am constantly pinpointing (often mistakenly) what motivates the actions of the people around me, especially when those actions seem to go against what I would call my own personal idea of "conventional wisdom."

So what can we do?

Realize that everyone has different priorities, and that it's okay. People's ideas of what's important may be different from yours, but that doesn't make it any less valid than your ideas. I find myself wasting too much time thinking prescriptively.

This is what you should do...This is what you shouldn't do. 

Unfortunately, the adult world I'm familiar with is not so black and white. It's all a matter of what you prioritize, and what you hold dear. That's what determines what motivates you, or anyone to action.

Avoid the mistake I usually make of jumping to conclusions and assigning judgements to people's decisions. More often than not, if you can't understand why someone does something (and it drives you a little nuts), you simply don't value the same things they value, OR you don't value them to the same degree.

I spent a number of hours last night laughing, crying and discussing this idea with a close friend of mine. As we sat in her cozy Cambridge apartment and talked until the early hours of the morning, I realized how much energy I waste away ascribing generalized prescriptions to how one "should" live. Avoid my mistake. Stop it. You're usually going to be wrong anyway.

What can you do instead?

Step back. Spend time learning about yourself, and use the moments that frustrate you to discover new, emerging elements of your personality. Use them to unleash your hidden values: the ones you didn't realize your had until someone challenged them.

Embrace who you are. Learn what motivates and drives you.

Accept that most people are usually not trying to hurt you. When you feel offended by what someone has said or done, consider that they might just hold dear something you didn't think to consider important. They probably haven't realized that about themselves yet either.

And remember that values and priorities may change. For you, and everyone else.

Let it happen.

The Facebook Fast

Since I deactivated my Facebook account a few weeks ago, a number of loved ones have approached me to inquire about my reasons for doing so. Some have quizzically, if not aggressively, prompted me for an explanation, causing me to ponder whether my action could be interpreted as one made by one of an unstable mind, or improper social etiquette (perhaps I offended someone in deleting my account without prior notice?). Others merely seemed curious, and acknowledged that they had not seen me as actively on their feed. In these moments, I often wish I had, in fact, deactived my account out of social rebellion, or defiance. I would, of course, be lying if I were to assert that I simply lost my interest in Facebook, that I saw no value in it, or that I had "outgrown" it. No, my actual reasons feel much less noble, or dramatic.

I decided to actually give my answer some thought, and to write about it here. Why did I deactivate my Facebook account?

The answer I stumbled upon after giving it some thought is actually quite simple. I'm making conscious readjustments. 

For the year or so, I've become a bystander to my own life. I began to sit back and enjoy the ride. I'm not sure whose been driving, but it definitely hasn't been me; and I've realized that if you don't consciously make an effort to lead the direction your life is going in, and to evaluate it, it'll get done one way or the other, like an escalator. You'll keep moving forward, or backwards, and you have no say in what direction you're moving. 

I learned that it's really easy to let your life get away from you. It's easy to fall into the trap of routine. It's easy to stop pushing yourself to greatness, and to stop finding opportunities for greatness in the mundane details of everyday adult life. It's comfortable, and you can get used to it. You'll grow accustomed to how numb you feel, and indifference will begin to set in.

And if you're anything like me, you'll start liking it...until you realize what's happened. Until you realize how few decisions you've actually made and how you've lost one of the things that makes us to uniquely,a nd wonderfully human -- simple AWARENESS. You'll be giddy and complacent until you sit still one day and realize that you haven't evaluated your life in a long time, and that you've fallen into the routine you vowed as an idealist college freshman that you'd never buy into. Trust me, you HAVE to evaluate your life consistently, and make sure you're pausing along the way to make conscious decisions about where you're going. If you're making time for the things you actually care about, and if you still have time to do the things you love, and be with the people you can't live without. 

So why deactivate my Facebook account? I'm reevaluating. Nothing revolutionary or rebellious. It'll probably go back up soon enough. I'm not angry or fed up, or done with Facebook. I'm pausing. I'm detoxing for a bit (fasting from the temptation of automatically going on Facebook during any free second), and hoping I can identify some areas for improvement and some action steps to take next.

In a time of year when people rededicate themselves to doing good, and to living with a purpose, I'm using the Holiday season to make conscious readjustments - and to take a step into my personal road less traveled, hoping - no, knowing - that doing so is what makes all the difference. 

Dreams deferred

A Dream Deferred by Langston Hughes

What happens to a dream deferred?

Does it dry up
like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore--
And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over--
like a syrupy sweet?

Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.

Or does it explode?