Our world is built on fear-based thoughts.
We are taught every day to be afraid: of other people, of not having enough or being enough. We are taught, insanely, to be afraid of our very selves.
We are born pure and wild and attuned to our senses. We are instinctive and curious and we trust all our needs will be met.
We aren’t afraid to cry or rage or tell the truth. We love freely, without expectation or fear.
And then we learn the rules of life.
We learn the stories that have been told forever and we learn we must make ourselves a character in those stories to fit in and be loved. The problem is those stories are limited and they don’t serve our souls.
We learn to ignore and hide our feelings because they’re messy and they make others uncomfortable.
We learn to lie.
Brave living is breaking down and breaking free.
It’s saying thanks but no thanks to the story handed to you by your parents, mass media, your subculture or religion and writing your own.
Brave living is looking around you and noticing that nobody else is doing what you’re doing and diving into it anyway.
Brave living is hearing a tiny little voice deep inside you and deciding to listen to that voice even though the rest of the world is screaming the exact opposite advice.
Brave living is trusting the process of your life. Even when it doesn’t look ‘right’ or go according to ‘plan’. It’s surrendering control and knowing there’s an undercurrent of supreme intelligence and this intelligence is guiding you, holding you, lifting you up always. It will never let you down.
Brave living is being still even when all you want to do is run and numb and hide behind your addictions and stories.
It’s sitting at the altar every damn day, bowing your head and saying this is what I’ve got today. This is where I’ve been, this is what’s happening, this is who I am and I’m hurting but I’m ready to start being true. Take me and use me for good. Put me front and centre where I need to be. Let me be soft where I’ve been hard. Let me be brave where I’ve been afraid. Let me be love.
Brave living is unlearning everything you’ve been taught. It’s taking a risk. Starting anew. Creating. Connecting. Crying. For weeks if you need to.
Brave living is asking for help from those who love you because pride is a weakness and we weren’t meant to do this alone.
It’s reaching for a pen or the phone instead of a bottle or a pipe. It’s being here even when here is horrendous.
Brave living is believing in your body. In your feelings and your dreams. It’s believing you are an extension of something bright and whole and magnificent.
Brave living is loving and forgiving and serving. Even when you’ve been burned so badly you thought you’d die.
Brave living is thinking that death is, in fact, a good alternative to feeling what life has to offer and then changing your mind.
Brave living is choosing life. It is inhaling strength in one moment and exhaling fear in the next.
It is a process, a rhythm, a ritual.
It will make every cell in your body come alive with sensation. Colours will get brighter. Sounds sharper. Everything will taste sweeter and feel bigger, smoother, softer, juicier.
And it will all hurt like fucking hell.
Because brave living is a rebirth.
A second, sacred invitation to show up fully for your life on a higher frequency.
Unfiltered. Purposeful. Powerful.
Having dismantled the old stories you’ll see with fresh new eyes again.
You will be open and hungry for life.
Wild, curious and free.
