choosing courage Archives

Living Brave By Being Myself

Posted on December 3, 2019by Lis

Young women need to realize that being brave is in their DNA, and living brave is something this world doesn’t support. ~ My mentor Jeffrey

I see now that living brave often times means living my individual truth. However, living individually is an experience my humanness doesn’t support.

From this conflict I find that I have two choices. One, stake a claim on my individuality, which, though isolating at times, feels really great throughout my being. Or, two, teeter on the edge of my identity which resonates as feeling weird, sticky, and wrong.

When I have this choice before me, it’s of utmost importance for me to live brave, choosing to stand in my uniqueness. These choices are, after-all, the moments when I am chiseling myself out of the stone of ordinariness, and thus defining who and why I am.

I’m Brave… Huh?

Recently, I traveled from Xalapa, Mexico to Las Cruces, New Mexico. My first few days back in the States, I participated in a Mini-Retreat with 4 (quite amazing) business women and friends.

Over dinner one night, one of the women commented on how brave she thought I was to be on this journey. It was funny because even after a few years of working on myself, I noticed how her compliments were hard for me to internalize.

It’s true. It’s taken me a long time to start to own that my journey is unique, and to begin to celebrate it as such. For most of this time, I’ve seen what I’m doing as simply living my truth, and, being honest, that really hasn’t felt all that brave.

Most times when I’ve thought about my life, I’ve felt ashamed… outcast. It is only in recent months I’ve begun to TRY to accept my actions at attempting to architect my best life from the core of my being as worthy. In addition, It’s taken me 37 years to see how truly hard doing such a thing is… and how sincerely brave.

An Example of Choosing the Great Feeling

Part of my recent travels from Mexico back to the US involved me having to face one of these important choices. I could hover on the edge of my truth, spending money to avoid perceived fear and discomfort, or I could go towards my fear, save said money, and ultimately step into my light.

When I thought about choosing the former, I felt disgusted and uneven. When I thought about choosing the latter, I felt coherent. (NOTE: for more details on the story check out my YouTube channel).

I chose to follow my truth and face my fear and discomfort. Sure enough, in the end I found had nothing to fear, and I was able to feel FREE by following my gut.

Then There’s the Not-So-Great Feeling

During the aforementioned mini retreat, I was delighted and inspired being around like minded women. But, during one of our adventures, the crude feeling appeared.

The five of us were in the White Sands National Monument and, while we were exploring and enjoying, I sensed something in me shift. As I watched and listened to the other women, I felt ashamed and outcast (NOTE: none of the ladies did anything to prompt these feelings (quite the opposite, actually)).

The instant was so poignant, it prompted today’s reflection.

I realize that the shift was due to me noticing my differences, but, instead of loving them, I pushed them away. I wasn’t yet able to own my uniqueness, and so the shame emerged.

What I believe those differences are doesn’t matter. The point was that I felt so very distinct and wasn’t yet brave enough to step into the contrast.

In fact, up until the writing of this piece, and the realization of this lesson, when I looked back on the photos all I see is that icky feeling:

Looking out over White Sands — White Sands sparks some internal reflection, no doubt.

Shadows of three women against the white sands. — We are, each of us, different.

Why Feel Icky for Being Different?

Coming to this realization, I came face to face with my mentor’s point: living brave (i.e. living our truth) IS in my DNA, but it’s oh so hard to align with.

Why?

By owning how I’m different, I run the risk of not belonging, but as a human being I am wired for this belonging. Further, I am advertised to CONSTANTLY with information triggering my need to belong, and my fear of being an outcast, and these messages get through. They make it hard for me to step outside of the norm without fearing for my own survival.

So yeah the world doesn’t support me (or many of us) living brave by living our truths because, well, it’s bad for business. You can’t sell people who are brave as well as those who aren’t… but I digress.

My Fears Unearthed

I won’t lie, I had a hard time writing this post.

I now see I feared being outcast for writing these ideas. Alongside the fear though was this deep need to express SOMETHING in regards to my mentor’s quote above.

I believe this second sensation was the knowing that by writing this post and sharing my different ideas, I would be brave, stand in my truth, and find further congruence.

My higher knowing pushed me this way because it remembered how GOOD it feels not to pretend anymore.

Feeling Good By No Longer Pretending

In times like when I sat down to write this piece or when I was deciding about my travel or when I was realizing my differences in the desert…. these are the defining moments.

Going towards and then through that weird/gross/anxious feeling I have, IS “doing the work”. Not trying to make myself feel good, but accepting I don’t feel good and unpacking why.

Then by choosing myself in these moments, the real change happens. This is where I’m the most brave, where we can all choose to be brave.

If I succumb to the comfort of perceived belonging through similarity, if I try to belong instead of to be myself, if I don’t go through the awkward feelings and CHOOSE DIFFERENTLY, I hold myself back from being myself.

If all of this, then the cycle of self discovery, and ultimately self expression, is stalled.

How Can I Be Sure? I Can’t Be

How can I be so sure of what I’m saying? How do I know it’s all worth the risk?

I’m not.

What I do know is that living brave, so far, and making decisions that go against that gross feeling, has brought me the benefits I seek.

I also know that doing this is necessary for ME to architect my best life.

The Only Guarantee

It’s at this late hour when I realize I can practically guarantee myself I won’t belong to many of the people and situations I thought I belonged to (but really never belonged to) if I can continue my quest to choose my differences and live brave. But… I’m OK with this.

Fact is, at the end of it all I may not belong to the people I used to, but then again I’m no longer the person I was, and that is the entire point!

So yeah, the world doesn’t support living brave, but I don’t need the entire world’s support.

I just need my own. The world can follow.

Keys to Happiness This Is Living

Becoming a Wild Woman

Posted on November 12, 2019by Lis

This post was originally published in Sam Osbiston’s online publication Catching Life back in the Spring of 2017. It’s one I worked hard on and really enjoyed creating! I’m reposting here so that you too can enjoy it (hopefully).

As a young girl, somewhere between the ages of 5 and 7, I made a bold statement.

I remember my two older brothers and I were arguing, and one of them made a comment condescendingly saying,

“When you grow up you’re going to be lazy and no good”.

I remember feeling weighed down by hurt and confusion. I didn’t understand why anyone who was supposed to love me would say such things. It is only as an adult I realize this is what others tend to do to the brave and wild. They go to great lengths to extinguish our fire before our flames can grow so large they get consumed by them.

Shockingly, my mother stuck up for me. In what felt like a rare moment I heard her say to me,

“No you’re not. You’re going to grow up to be a nice, smart young lady.”

At her words, I remember feeling a tightening around my soul. One that I knew wouldn’t do.

Confronting my mother’s statement, my small frame straightened and I announced,

“No I’m not, I’m going to be a wild woman!”

Wild? Did I even know what I was saying? Did I really want to be wild?

At such a young age, did I know that a song played across my spirit; one that would not be quieted by the everyday expectations of life? Did I know in order to feel a part of this world, to find an inner peace and calm, and to make a mark for myself and for all my kindred spirits, I would need to dance in full force to the rhythm of my inner song?

Was I aware of what dancing the dance would mean, and did I realize living a wild life would require me to stand alone in my truth?

In the time before I allowed my heart and soul to be tightly closed by mediocrity’s vice, yes, I think I did want to be wild. In fact, I think it was knowing these things deep inside the core of my being which made my child-self affirm my future so confidently.

Somehow, I still ended up falling into the grasp of the uninspired life. My dreams clouded and eventually merged with those of others. I found myself operating from a restrained, sensible, and disciplined place, one that had been made for me, instead of by me. While living this carefully constructed life, my persona eventually morphed into that image my mother described.

I most certainly did become a “nice, smart young lady”.

The song, however, still played.

It hummed along in the background throughout the empty successes, the ghost failures, and the misguided loves and heartaches. Eventually, I saw I had given up so much of myself to the conventional, I was left feeling void and drained, like a ghost roaming eternity in search of a redemption it would never find.

I needed to find my way back to Wild. I needed to dance.

I don’t think it was one moment or decision that prompted the dilation of my soul. Rather, I think my untamed heart freed itself slowly, jaggedly, and painfully, like ice expanding and breaking apart the rocky enclosure. One painstaking decision after the other led to the undoing of my sensible persona and the uplifting, and releasing, of my natural spirit.

Slowly, the traditions I held onto so loyally and so dearly began to break away. I started to see through them, past the place where their false core resided, through the thin, filmy residue of the intentions that held them together, and into the heart of the lies they were built upon.

I began to confront my own false narratives which held together the fragments of the model citizen I had become. I stood face to face with my demons, and I broke my own heart several times along the way.

With each broken heart I realized how much I had stifled my own free spirit for the acceptance of others. I waded in the pool of the heavy pain and regret of these realizations. I berated myself for not being my true self, and basked in the guilt of wanting to let go of everything I had built to get away from my natural self.

I allowed life to tell me wild was ugly and outcast, but the more I worked to let the thick, sludgy venom of conformity drain from my soul, the more I began to see the pure, inspired beauty of a spirit so naturally expressing itself in the world. I saw a dormant flower of winter bud into a vibrant Spring blossom.

Truth be told, the further I went down the path less travelled, the further those I had relied upon proceeded down the well traversed path. As I stepped further along my road to authenticity, I saw the inauthentic friendships melt away. And, being honest, watching the happiness of the many while walking among the few caused so much doubt within me, the brilliant light center I had begun to operate from flickered and darkness began to move back in.

But, the song played on, and each time it came down to choosing between sitting this one out, or dancing the time away… more and more often I chose to dance. For I believe, in the end, the feeling of living my truth outweighs that of living the false ideal of others. And, in the end, I have fallen madly, passionately, and deeply in love with a life that is lived purely from the heart.

I have fallen for me, one hell of a wild woman.

This Is Living Travel

Remembering Courage

Posted on May 21, 2019by Lis

I remember the first time I heard the definition of courage I’ve come to love. I may have told you this before, but humor me for a moment.

I was sitting on a comfy couch, I believe while doing a housesit in Sunny Southern California, and was watching one of my favorite shows on Netflix, The Last Kingdom. The main character, a warrior, was talking to a less experienced soldier on the eve of a major battle.

When the younger man admits to the main character that he’s afraid, the main character tells him something along the lines of, “Courage is finding the will to overcome your fear. Nothing more”. The next day in the midst of battle when the junior man cowers before an enemy, the main character yells to him: “Use your courage!” The younger man finds his courage and overcomes. The battle is won, and the series continues.

These scenes impacted me so deeply they are what I reimagine each time I hear the word courage.

I’ve written a bit about courage here before when I shared a quote from Brené Brown’s book, Dare to Lead. It was being reunited with this quote recently, through sitting on a comfy bed in Lisbon watching her Netflix special, which jolted me back into remembering to use my own courage.

I think it’s pretty courageous of me to be traveling around several foreign countries alone, but I don’t always remember to, as Brené mentions:

Choose courage over comfort.

Sure I remember to do so in the BIG life moments, but it’s when I don’t remember to do so in the smaller ones that I falter. By being courageous, and thus vulnerable, in only one area of my life, I create incongruity, and thus angst, in other areas.

For example, I may choose to travel alone around Europe, but also choose NOT to be brave enough to try to order my morning coffee in the local language. I’ll tell myself how brave I am overall in order to quell my shame, then I’ll make the excuse that “everyone speaks English anyway” so there’s no need for me to order in the local language.

In reality, I’m simply too scared in this smaller seeming moment that I’ll screw it up and be laughed at OR worse, that I won’t screw it up and receive a reply I don’t understand and thus will have to admit to my lack of knowledge. This imbalance of choosing courage on one end of the spectrum but not the other is what I believe causes much of my anxiety.

Thus, choosing courage over comfort in all of my life moments has been a mantra of mine since being reunited with these ideas.
When I spent last Saturday exploring Lisbon both alone, then meeting up with friends to explore with them, the exercise of choosing courage over comfort came to life.

I spent the morning hours muddling my way through ordering coffee and treats in my terrible Portuguese, but then succeeded beyond measure.

Coffee and pastry — A delicious espresso and a pastel de nata as my reward. mmmmmm.

I spent the afternoon hours first venturing into the cramped tourist land of Central Lisbon to see the famous St. Jorge castle. The castle was nice and all, but wasn’t really what I expected. It had amazing views of the city, and tall brick structures, but it wasn’t the grand event I’d hoped for.

I normally would have stayed longer at the castle because I should AND to “get my money’s worth”, but I instead left early to sit in quaint a cafe on a tight Lisbon street and enjoy some pizza and beer (or cider, rather).

Lis in front of the view of Lisbon — Me and a view of Lisbon.

Castle grounds — I loved the castle grounds.

Fish sculpture — A fun sculpture on the castle grounds.

It doesn’t sound courageous to leave behind history for vices, BUT I assure you that’s the point! To let go of the “shoulds” and do what I want is not an easy thing. It involves me betting more on myself than on the opinions of others, a bet I haven’t taken much in my life. In fact, I’ve told myself I’ve insured my own safety by not betting on myself. I’m kinda done telling myself this, but back to the story.

The friends I was meeting, an English woman and man about my age who have lived in Lisbon since March, arrived at the cafe and ALSO decided on a pizza and beer before we took in any culture. They were inspired by my leisure and wanted to stay out of the now very hot Sun as long as possible.

Being honest and courageous was paying off!

We weren’t in too much of a hurry to get to The National Tile Museum of Lisbon, and since one of the friends used to come to Lisbon in his youth, he wanted to show us the Flea Market (or market of thieves) where his father took him. His desires rewarded me with a wonderful view of books everywhere!

Books on bookcase — Books everywhere! This is just one example.

After the market, the three of us walked down the steep, crowded, and winding streets to sea level, where we continued our now flat, but incredibly hot walk. Along the way I noticed when I would think to be funny or quirky in order to try to “win people over”, my comfort zone.

Instead I chose courage and self honesty. I listened more than talked. I walked in the internal discomfort of this choice, but found that it didn’t take long to find solace and ease in the practice. I watched my mind become more quiet and myself become more present. I was even able to rediscover some wonder along the way.

mural along a walk — Some Lisbon street art.

We enjoyed the tile museum immensely. It was a simple, focused place, and with the practice of choosing courage, I saw with fresher eyes. The gardens were awe inspiring, and the mix of indoor and outdoor was perfect for a hot day:

Pink flowers above a doorway — The entrance to the museum.

Garden courtyard with a large fountain. — The courtyard garden at the museum.

Tile walls of an outdoor courtyard — Tiles line the walls of the courtyard.

Tile picture of a soldier — A piece at the National Tile Museum

When we parted ways later that day, I continued to keep my practice top of mind. I realized how I often think of fear as being afraid of “real” and “big” things, but then remember how so many of my everyday existence can be motivated by it.

I know a large part of my behaviors and reactions I’ve put into place due to a fear of either experiencing disappointment from myself or others or a fear of not succeeding or a fear of personal discomfort of any kind. I see now how much energy I waste trying to avoid these fears.

As I continue this journey I look to become aware of these everyday fears and eradicate them with the simple power of choice.

Can it be as easy as choosing courage in our moments of discomfort?

Come on, I didn’t say the choice was an easy one!