Would you rather be courageous or would you rather be a coward?
Sometimes... I’d rather be a coward.
This photo was taken in Vancouver, on Sep 20th, 2013.
The space between my past, where I am now, and where I desire to go.
Between the “no longer this” and the “not yet that” is a space I’m still learning to honour.
And as I live in this present moment, as I approach my desired future, I feel that I need to be courageous. Again.
Sometimes, I cringe when I hear people call me courageous. I think to myself they don’t know about the times I hide and give into my fears and resistance. That sometimes, this “courageous” thing they see so big and admire, I don’t even find “courageous enough”. That there’s more to me and in me than “just this”.
A part of me knows that I’m courageous.
Another part of me judges me for not being “more courageous”, and “further ahead”.
And another part of me would rather be a coward a lot of the time. That wants to curl up and cry. That wants to sit and watch Netflix, not for entertainment, but to numb and be distracted.
It’s safe to be a coward. It is safe and easy to not even try. To not ruffle any feathers. To not have to think about how would they see me, and how would they judge me. To not confront massive systems that stand beside me, behind me, under me, and… inside me. It’s easier to hide, to avoid all conflicts, to keep myself small, and just… repeat and stay in what’s familiar.
I find it so easy and safe to just sit and binge watch a show I’v