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Following are my thoughts upon finishing Lesson 2 in Brené Brown’s Living Brave class.
Vulnerability is a taboo word in today’s society. Any mention of the word and voices are lowered, shifty eyes glance left and right, and you’re shushed with “I don’t do vulnerability.”
Per the world’s definition, being vulnerable is showing weakness in a dog-eat-dog world where only the strong survive. When we’re vulnerable, we associate it with fear, shame, failure, rejection, frailty, uncertainty, and exposure. All the things we don’t want to experience and what we’re taught not to be.
So why would we ever want to be vulnerable? […]
I’ve been pondering this quote by Theodore Roosevelt…
It is not the critic who counts;
not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles,
or where the doer of deeds could have done them better.
The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena,
whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood;
who strives valiantly;
who errs, who comes short again and again,
because there is no effort without error and shortcoming;
but who does actually strive to do the deeds;
who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions;
who spends himself in a worthy cause;
who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement,
and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly,
so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls
who neither know victory nor defeat.
The arena… a place where battles are mightily fought under a cloud of onlookers. […]
Less thinking. More feeling.
These are the words that jumped off the page at me. I just re-cracked the spine on Brené Brown’s book, Daring Greatly, and in the introduction (the introduction, mind you, page 6, not even the ‘real’ part of the book yet) I was caught off guard with these four words. Her powerfully penned punch landed right on my nose. Ouch!
This was not the first time I read these pages. But it was the first time these words caused a reaction in me.
Tomorrow, we’ll be starting our journey into a new year. Depending on how last year’s ride went, we’ll either throw our leg over the saddle expectantly or with reservations.
The week between Christmas and New Year’s is idling time for me. I park it in neutral and gaze into my rearview mirrors to see just how far I’ve come. What roads did I travel last year? Was it smooth sailing or did I hit my fair share of bumps? Did I accomplish what I set out to do this very moment last year?
My calendar is my roadmap. I flip through its pages… retracing my route.
While idling, I focus on two questions: […]
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