Everyday Bravery
Monday, May 3, 2010 at 12:55PM 
Spring bloom on wooden step, Washington, March 2010
I could have been flying off to Europe in two months, maybe stopping to visit friends in England and venturing into Italy for the first time, and then spending ten writerly days in Slovenia. Instead, I'll spend those ten days in Vermont, home of the Green Mountains, moose crossing signs, and Cheddar cheese -- all good things, but not exactly the Alps, Dante's cave, or planinski čaj (mountain tea).
Vermont or Slovenia. It's a strange set of choices, one made possible by the wonders of higher education. My MFA program at Vermont College takes a group of students to Slovenia each summer as an alternative to the Vermont campus residency. As soon as I'd heard about it, I knew I'd be going. After all, I love travel. I embrace possibility. I'm the one who takes the adventure.
But then came the time to make plans. I'd already sent in my (refundable) deposit, but I felt uneasy about the prospect. I pooh-poohed my anxiety, brushing it off as a collection of silly little fears for me to overcome. After all, I'm the one who takes the adventure, right?
My logic and my intuition wrestled for weeks. Sometimes one would win out over the other, but mostly it was a draw. Finally, I knew in my core that this was not the right summer for me to go to Slovenia. Even after I knew, I needed another week to accept it as the right decision. Am I still the one who takes the adventure if I pass up Slovenia?
Why did the thought of this adventure fill me with weariness instead of excitement? Yes, planning a trip to Europe requires a certain amount of courage and energy -- courage and energy of which I am completely capable. I could book the planes and trains; find overnight accommodations before and after the residency; buy luggage more suited to such a trip; get new walking shoes to replace my worn-out pair; figure out an international cell phone option. I could do it all.
Yes, I am the one who takes the adventure. I can plan like a pro. I can be brave. But that's just the thing: I'm being brave every day lately. Sometimes everyday life requires heaping doses of courage. You don't have to be suffering through a particular trauma or disaster to need deep wells of courage to get you from the morning to the night and then through the darkness itself. The reasons for this in my life right now -- many of which are the practical reasons I decided on Vermont instead of Slovenia -- matter less than the necessity of the courage itself.
Every day I dip down into the well and heave up buckets of courage. Some days the well is low and threatens to run dry. I'm sure I could drill another well to draw from if I needed to. But for now, for this summer, for this particular trip, I need to save my courage reserves for the day-to-day. This doesn't mean there won't be other adventures in the coming months.
I get up in the morning. I tend to my chores; I do my creative work. I love the people around me and try to let them love me back. I buy groceries and cook meals. I clean. I stretch my body upon a pink yoga mat. I walk outside to get the mail. I pet my cats and kiss my husband. I go to sleep at night. My everyday life looks sane and tame. Maybe yours looks much the same in your corner of the world. But don't forget to give yourself credit for all the ways you're being brave -- for the staying, for the leaving, for the waiting, for all of the in-between spaces that require a stout spirit and an adventurer's heart.
Reader Comments (9)
I needed this!
xx
Passing up on an "adventure" doesn't make you less adventurous. It just means that adventure for adventure's sake is not your top priority in life at the moment. And that's not a bad thing.