I have decided recently that I am not very brave. I submit this as a statement of fact, not as a request for reassurance. To clarify, I will admit to adventurousness. I am an adventurous person.
But adventurousness and bravery are very different things and this is why: Adventurers will try new things and explore the vastness of life and the world and they will challenge themselves. But typically, adventurers are supported. People really like to root for the general spreading of wings, and so adventurers they can get on board with. Adventurers will see much in life, maybe do much in life; but they will do so with a mound of feel-goodness under their butts to get them moving.
But the brave simply act. They move outside of means and ends. They know themselves--or maybe they don't, but they have a sense of something. And so they go. Brave people might be hurtful people because they don't much consider others. Their greatest strength shares rank as their greatest fault, as is usually the case. So often without awareness of how many ripples they create, they function and act and leap and fly whether or not they are lifted up by millions or none.
And while people can get on board with adventurers, it is bravery that they absolutely love, even if it hurts them. Want to know why? Because so few of us have it. I mean, really have it.
I like to imagine I do, albeit locked away deep inside of me. Don't you? If I do have it in there somewhere, I suck at unleashing it. I can hope that I am actually brave, but in the face of something, I normally cannot disappoint others.
I can't really decide if this is a good thing or a bad thing or both. And I can't really decide if I'm capable of conjuring it up, dragging it out of me. I can live adventurously and admire the brave who live fearlessly; but that leaves me to wonder what might happen if I could just cross that line.