Courage

{By Alison Sudol}

I spent so much of my life holding parts of myself so close, so tight
So afraid that if I opened my heart and my arms to the world, something terrible would come in
or something important would fall out.
I held my breath and my tongue
smiled when I was holding back tears
apologizing for so many things I didn’t do
I’m sorry
I’m sorry
always sorry sorry
I don’t know what for, why I was so sorry
or why I was so afraid of making mistakes
of being too quiet
or too loud,
of being unruly
or free.

And then one day
I decided that maybe I could try to learn how to live life a little differently
and maybe learn to enjoy it a little more
and start saying sorry a little less
(unless I actually did something worth apologizing for)
and I opened my arms a little bit, then a little more

nothing too terrible came in
maybe a few weird hugs that lingered too long
and a couple of jabs at the general rib vicinity here and there
but none of them really hurt too badly,
not permanently.

Something important did fall out, though
thoughts
real thoughts
unapologetic thoughts
and ideas
and actions,
art

music
film
belief
and love.

And my heart could breathe, and stretch out
and it was a lovely lovely feeling.

But then out came the fears, too
(since everything else was)
And they were big sharp-toothed growling snarling stupid drooling jerk-faced monster fears
and all I wanted to do was crawl under the bed

but then I remembered, that’s where the real monsters live
- so there went that plan.

There was nowhere to go but forward
into the fire
the fog
the who-knows-what-that-is
the unknown.

I looked at the fears in the face,
and lo and behold, started to laugh.
hard.
because they looked ridiculous.

Monsters are always funny-looking -
if you take away the scary music, turn on the lights and really look at them
it’s all chewing gum and corn syrup.
kind of sad in a way, like broken toys.

And I thought,
if I could only remember the way this feels,
I would never be afraid again.

And yet it’s funny,
how over and over again
I forget.

I start saying sorry again
and start wondering if I’ve been too quiet
or too loud
or if I’ve made a mistake somewhere along the way...

But I want to get to the end of my life knowing that I ran through it with my arms wide open
the wind rushing through my hair
crying the laughing kind of tears
and the regular kind
in equal measure

occasionally falling on my face
but always getting back up again

full of joy and sadness and passion and wonder

and maybe with a few scars to remind me of where I’ve been

somehow, in some tiny but definite way, having made the world a little better for living
fully
kindly
with love
integrity
and with unwavering faith in humanity.

I want to know that i made a path in the wilderness
and went somewhere new and beautiful every morning...
and left breadcrumbs behind me so others could follow if they wanted...

and that the life I lived, the life that I had loved with all my heart,
was nothing to be sorry for
and never had been.

something that’s also easy to forget
is that the future
starts
now.