Courage has as its root the Latin word cor, meaning heart — which is key to my understanding.
To me, courage is not the absence or avoidance of fear. It’s how much of your breath and heart you can keep while experiencing the fear.
My anatomy teacher shares a wonderful description of the heart in the ribcage: on each breath, the lungs give it a huge, cozy, smooshy hug — and the heart returns a joyous thump-thump rhythmic dance in return, gently knocking on the liver underneath it as well. Each beat ripples through your whole being.
A yoga teacher once led a meditation where she started with: “Consider the possibility of involving the heart in every breath.”
One of the best calming techniques I’ve learned is to sense into that rhythmic vibration in the ribcage, especially on an extended exhale.
When it comes to facing our fears, clinical psychologist Peter Levine, drawing on his 45+ years of practice, shares the story of Medusa and Perseus from Greek mythology. We don’t always have to go rushing straight towards Medusa — our biggest fears — lest we freeze and turn to stone upon gazing at her directly.
Sometimes it’s best to take a mirror with us and slowly work our way closer and closer and closer, gradually, until we can finally take her on.
We don’t have to chase after our biggest fears right away.
The first time someone learns to ride a bike, drive a vehicle, or even walk those first steps… it took courage! And after practice we do it with such ease, without thinking, often on auto-pilot.
Courage is not meant to be a permanent state. It is what gets us to our sanctuary on the other side.
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