Advice For Men: First, be afraid
"How to be brave"
I imagine Heaven as a place without fear, populated by angels who love without condition. They’re like celestial Labrador Retrievers that way. Angels are not afraid. They are never in any real danger. They just spread their wings and fly. Angels never have to worry about paying bills, having their hearts broken, or getting hit by a bus. For all eternity, it’s just light and warmth: singing and fluttering and sporadic visits to poor ol’ Earth.
Immortality is boring, but it’s secure. Safe. Angels aren’t brave because they don’t have to be.
Sadly, I am mortal, and death swipes left on us all. I am worried about what comes next. I am constantly asking myself questions. Who am I? What should I do? Should I roll the dice and eat grocery store sushi rolls? Yes? No? I want to be brave. I need to be brave. I want to be remembered for never running away from a righteous battle.
I am no hero, but I know a little about bravery. I’ve seen it. I know heroes. I’ve met them. They are as surprised as anyone that they did what they did. Whether it was daring to dream, ignoring odds, or wiping a feverish forehead and whispering, “you’re going to get better,” when the truth was the doctors didn’t know if they would.
The first step is simple: be afraid. It’s not that hard. Life is a buffet of fears: flying, grey hairs, spiders. There are monsters under the bed and in the closet, and on social media. Take your pick. To be brave, you must first accept that you are not brave. No one is, until the moment they are given a choice.
So let’s talk about that moment. That nanosecond before you do the scary thing, even though you are scared. Do you tell them you love them? Ask for that promotion? Trust your instincts? That seemingly endless instant is called courage. And there’s a small difference between bravery and courage.
Courage is facing an impossible obstacle, even though it is frightening. It is being strong when one is weak. It is shaky knees while waiting for a roller coaster, the sound of a truck’s rear doors closing before beginning a life-changing move. It is pouring a family member a cup of hot tea before telling them who you truly are inside. Courage is the fuel that gets you to that collection of heartbeats when a decision is made.
Courage carries you to the proverbial precipice. To jump, or not to jump. But bravery is deciding to take the plunge, no matter the risk. Bravery is failing or flying. Standing up for yourself or someone else, despite what may happen next. Bravery is taking one step forward, then two. Then, as many steps as it takes.
There are plenty of things to be scared of: plagues, taxes, and asteroids. And mass shootings. And your next-door neighbors. Dangers are everywhere, so watch where you step.
Bravery isn't kicking a rattlesnake. Sometimes, it's tiptoeing around the viper. Fear doesn't always know the difference between a diamondback and a broken heart. Fear wants to protect you, even from the good things in life. Fear doesn’t want you to bruise, emotionally or physically. Bravery is being so present — alive in your electric skin — that you can manage that fear and live.
I have not always been a brave person. I am petrified of singing karaoke for instance. I get texts from my dentist reminding me I need a cleaning that I ignore. There were times when I didn’t pick up the phone. When I didn’t keep my word. I have hidden behind my own teeth and lurked at the bottom of a bottle of bourbon like a catfish hugging a dark brown riverbed. I can confirm, though, that the only true miracles of my life happened when I was brave, when I did the right thing for myself and others, and didn’t care what happened. I have been reckless, gobsmacked by joy, laughing, while soaked in gasoline. I have shrugged before crashing onto the rocks below. And I sang your name the whole way down. I have loved without wings.
Here’s how to be brave: feel what you’re feeling. Say a kind word to your reflection. Trust your heart. Close your eyes, and open them. Your hands are your grandparents’ hands, and they are strong. Let courage push you towards changing your life in small and big ways. And when you are presented with a choice — start over or stay, follow your dreams or settle, be who you are, not who you are expected to be — say ‘yes’ to the scary one. In the end, you’ll be thankful for all the times you said ‘yes.’
I don’t know if I believe in an afterlife or angels, but I don’t think it’s absurd to think that, perhaps, somewhere, in another dimension or outside time, there is a vast celestial ledger, and over it broods an ancient bookkeeper tallying up the sum total of atoms split to fuel a star, pebbles peppered across the face of Mars, giggles from all the toddlers. Every moon is counted — every raindrop. Every tiny moment I enjoyed in this life, every laugh, belch, fresh peach, cold autumn rain, and early morning kiss is special and numbered.
My every step, choice, hope, dream — tears shed, breaths taken, hugs given — will be recorded thusly. I do not know the purpose of this cosmic accounting book, but I like to think that once the universe has imploded, everything will be added up. For eternal posterity. A final inventory of all the bits and pieces — the actions and consequences — of everything. And on that vast list of all the things that happened, it will be recorded that I was, on occasion, brave.
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This was beautiful, thank you