I have two grown sons. Brian is the father of three young kidos, lives in a 4-bedroom ranch nestled in a Michigan subdivision, and juggles a civil engineering job.
Whereas, Adam is single, self-employed in northern San Francisco, and refurbishes classic cars from revamping engines to seamless paint jobs.
Adam’s one of those people who’s done like a million exciting things, among them, trained lamas, upcycled dumpster-worthy bicycles, lived off the grid while excavating for rainwater harvesting.
Adam scratches his head at Brian’s loud kid-house, yet he said to me, “I think Brian is really brave. Look what he’s does. He coaches pee-wee soccer in the rain, attends ballet recitals in a shirt and tie, cooks turkey bacon. Even when the wash machine eats the $100 band uniform and floods the basement, he’s patient. I think that’s brave.”
Brave doesn’t always involve grand gestures. Sometimes brave looks more like staying when you want to leave, telling the truth when all you want to do is change the subject. Sometimes the bravest things we do are invisible, unsexy. Sometimes, brave looks boring, and that’s totally, absolutely, okay. Bravery is as important as compassion, self-love, and gratitude. These are all things we need to nurture to become truly efficient. We can learn to be brave.
Brian does it with his kids.
Adam does with his entrepreneurship.
I do it with my art.
Each is a step of being brave. To learn and grow to be the best I can be.
Although my art is visible, it’s invisible message is available to anyone … to comfort you, to guide you, to encourage you to be brave.
My art is inspired by the birch, a tree that stands tall, boasting its imperfections, flaunting its imperfect rough-around-the edges bark, reminding me to do the same.
For more, about perseverance and courage: click here for my memoir: A Lone Birch, My Artistic Journey.
Related articles: How a confidence cap can make you brave