Courage comes in many forms. It expresses itself differently through our experiences and intentions. It could be saying ‘I love you’ to someone important to you. It could be saying ‘no’ when it doesn’t feel right. It could be jumping out of a plane, or it could be stepping outside of your own house.

We shouldn’t judge or invalidate one another’s courage based on our own expression of courage, because it will always have its own interpretation and perception. And that our view on it will change from time to time. Maybe one act of courage creates such a pivotal change within yourself that it becomes a new foundation, and the next act of courage is something entirely new and different.

Instead, how about we celebrate each other’s courage when it arises, solely based on the immense strength it takes to express it. Because what we might find super simple to do might be utterly terrifying for another. And if that helps us to get closer to one another, I think we are heading towards something great.

My own journey of courage brings me back to memories of middle & high school. I was always the shy boy in the back of the classroom. I was never popular, nor was I the opposite, I was more of a wallflower just passing by. One of the worst things I knew was to speak in front of the class, it made me nauseous and anxious, I would blush immensely and sweat like crazy. This went on my entire teenage years, and to put some icing on the cake, I developed an underbite where I got teased and made fun of. It had a massive impact on me and it got me to skip school a lot and therefore my grades dwindled. Primarily, my courage consisted of just daring to be around people thinking or imagining what was going on in their minds seeing me and my underbite. This affected my self-worth, confidence, and how I would connect with people. Also, my lack of commitment in school would haunt me in later years.

When I was 19, after about 5 years of medical consultations and braces, I underwent surgery for my underbite. My biggest act of courage for a few years would be to look myself in the mirror. It was a different face, different features, but also, was it a different me? Because of my underbite, and the way it made me feel even post-surgery, smiling was something I wouldn’t be able to do until well into my mid-thirties.

When I was 23 I moved from my little hometown in Sweden to New York and met people that had never known the old me. And so I found new expressions of my courage. I was somewhere I felt more like myself, and I was decisive to make a new life for me there. My reflection became more familiar, and I became more social and outspoken. But my past was still looming over me, and I found myself back in Sweden a year later to pursue the school grades I didn’t commit to. That in itself required a lot of courage to accept that I was a slow learner and that I took my sweet time to go back to school.

Because of my lack of confidence in my teens, I was never really great with relationships, and even in my twenties I lacked the courage to approach anyone, or even acknowledge that someone would like me, and yet I still went through relationships but oftentimes they would end because I didn’t have the courage to speak up or express what I was actually feeling.

In my early thirties, I reached a breaking point in my life. I was in a very unhappy and destructive relationship, I had cut the chords with a lot of my old friends, I was living on welfare with barely any means to pay my rent, and went to therapy because I was borderline depressed. At the brink of it all, a childhood friend reached out asking if I wanted to move into his shared house. I gathered my courage to leave the relationship, and within a few weeks, everything changed. I got a well-paid job, I found yoga and I was making new friends at the studio, I cultivated happiness and confidence again, and the next four years became another foundation for new courage to be found.

In the best ways, yoga gave me the courage to confront myself, over and over again. I am grateful for the strictness, rigidity, and discipline those first years gave me, and the courage I had to break away from it.

When I came to Bali in my mid-thirties, everything changed again. I gathered the courage to get rid of everything I had in Sweden, take the money I had saved up, and decided to make this new life work for me, and at that time, I didn’t even know what that new life was. But this time it was different.

Here I found more courage than I had ever felt before. I found myself speaking with passion in front of hundreds of people, I became more independent and confident than ever before, I found the courage to approach people I liked and share it without fear, and I stood strong upon the courage that this is where I want to live and thrive for now. The wallflower I once was had blossomed into something greater and far more courageous.

Something so foreign and difficult to do for the larger part of my life. Something that many might take for granted. Today, I share my courage with pride, knowing that it took a lot to get where I am now.

And so, when we meet someone who is doing something that we deem simple, it might be their greatest act of courage. It might be the hardest thing to do. And we should celebrate that no matter what.

About the Author

Chris Fox is a mobility specialist and movement coach focusing on joint health, body awareness, and how to reduce pain with active bodywork. With the Fox Method, he helps people to get a stronger connection to their body, by isolating joint awareness, activating body control, and integrating healthier movement habits.

If you want to work on your mobility and stability, increase more body awareness and reduce pain to feel more light and alive, you can contact Chris for a session: thisischrisfox@gmail.com

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