I’ve always been, or at least, felt cowardly. I am not brave. I sense my fear daily. Life is too big for me. It always has been. And probably, always will be. But nevertheless, I do face my fears. Like now, sitting here at my desk getting ready to return to the article I began yesterday. It was a hacking-out piece of writing. I hated it. Today, after hours of mulling, I am ready to begin again, with, I hope, more authenticity, more openness. I may fail. But I will try to succeed. Is that courageous?
