courage

Praying for courage

I’ve been a public speaker on and off in various venues for the past twenty seven or so years. Most of my talks have revolved around recovery from drug and alcohol addiction, and the relationship with God that made my recovery possible. It’s a subject with which I have intimate knowledge and about which I am extremely passionate. And yet, I still get nervous before I speak.

I have spoken at countless venues in front of a variety of audiences, and it has always worked out. With the exception of one or two talks many years ago when my anxiety got the best of me, things have always gone well. Even in those rare one or two rare cases, I was able to pivot and pull it off.

Time and time again, my experience has proven that I have nothing to fear, I’m not an imposter, and things are going to be fine. Most importantly, however, my experience has proven that God will not abandon me, that he loves me, provides for me, and protects me. He has never let me down. And yet, I still get nervous before I speak.

I often wonder what it would be like to have perfect faith. That is, what would it be like to trust God implicitly, always, to fear nothing, and to never worry? While I do believe that this state of perfect faith is possible, if only because I believe that, for God all things are possible, I have a long way to go before I achieve it.

I have had brief moments of perfect faith. But like most people, I’m flawed and broken, impatient and untrusting, and I try to control things that are either out of my control or that would be better left to God. Precisely because of this brokenness, when I get nervous before I speak, and even when I don’t, I find a quiet space to pray. My fear is my own, but my courage comes from God.

Robert Van Valkenburgh
Grappling With Divinity

To read my poetry and shorter writing, please visit Meditations of a Gentle Warrior and subscribe to receive my daily meditations in your inbox. 

Your art is not just for you

When I read, it inspires me to write. When I listen to music, it inspires me to play. When I look at a painting, it inspires me to paint. That is why, if you are an artist, it is so important that you create and share your work. 

Your art is not just for you. It is also for those who may be inspired by it and, through that inspiration, create and share art of their own. You are perpetuating the creative cycle. 

This is why creating and sharing your art is a generous act. You are giving others not only the joy of experiencing what you have created, but also the permission to create and to share their own art. 

Courage is contagious. Through your art, others are encouraged to make art. In this way, your art changes the world. 

Parallel parking and the Wai Kru Ram Muay

Through an unexpected turn of events, my daughter and I ended up at a Muay Thai Wai Kru seminar today. Muay Thai is a form of pugilistic fighting originating in Thailand wherein participants use punches, kicks, knees, elbows, and trips from the clinch position to defeat one another. Wai Kru, more officially Wai Kru Ram Muay or ‘war dance saluting the teacher,’ is a ritual performed by Muay Thai fighters before a fight. This ritual is a way for the fighter to pay respect to the art, their teacher, and their opponent, and is intended to prepare the fighter for the fight. 

My day started with me attending a jiu-jitsu class with my daughter who played with her cousins while I trained. After my class was over, we were supposed to go somewhere, but before we left, I found out that plans had changed and our presence was no longer required. My wife was sightseeing in Washington DC with her family who is visiting from Washington state, so my daughter and my schedule suddenly opened up. 

As we were leaving the academy, some Muay Thai folks came in and I remembered that there was a seminar today intended to raise money for the girl who was teaching it to fight overseas. My daughter’s cousins were all attending the seminar since they all do Muay Thai and my brother was hosting the event, so I asked my daugher if she wanted to participate also and she said yes. 

The seminar went well and the kids all learned how to do the Wai Kru. At the end, they asked for volunteers to demonstrate what they had all learned, which was a complex series of movements that takes several minutes to perform. My daughter immediately raised her hand. 

A space was made in the middle of the room and my daughter was called out. With a little bit of help, she demonstrated the Wai Kru as everyone watched. They gave her a round of applause and then every kid, one by one, demonstrated to the group what they had learned. After the seminar ended, everyone sparred for a while and then went to get ice cream. 

When we got home, my wife was excited to tell me how proud of herself she was for successfully parallel parking in DC and making it all the way to Eden Center, a giant Vietnamese shopping center in Northern Virginia, and back without getting lost. When my wife finished telling me about her day, my daughter said, “Mommy, I did something brave today too. When the coaches asked for volunteers to demonstrate the Wai Kru in front of the class, even though I was nervous, I raised my hand and I went first. When I was done, my cousin told me that I inspired her and that’s why she went second.” 

I simply smiled. It was a good day and a good reminder that courage manifests in many different forms. For one person, courage is parallel parking in the city or driving to a new place. For another person, courage is raising their hand and stepping up in front of a crowd. We are all scared of something. It is our ability to take action in spite of that fear that makes us brave. Also, bravery is contagious. 

I am terrified of my creative voice

I am terrified of my creative voice. It frightens me because it sounds a lot like my pain. 

I am hesitant to enter that place inside of me because I am afraid of what I will find, I am afraid of what will come out, and I am afraid that I will not be able to leave once I enter. 

I dance around this fear and I do good work, but it isn’t my work, not in the truest sense because it is impersonal. What is personal is the pain, the grief, the anger, and the shame, but I am afraid to go there. 

I want my art to be uplifting, I want to make a positive impact, and I want to make people happy, but I also need to dig deeper. I need to dive into the pain. I need to unearth the lessons it wants to give me. I need to not be afraid of what I will find because all I will find is the truth. 

I am still searching for my creative voice because it exists on the other side of fear and I have not yet gone there. I have not yet become truly vulnerable, and there is no art without vulnerability. 

Even this is merely writing around the truth, not diving into it headfirst without hesitation. Even this is a form of hiding. This is me avoiding the real work. 

This is not my creative voice. This is something else. 

Sound like yourself

My favorite bands don’t sound like anyone else. They sound like themselves. 

The music I like the most, the first time I heard it, I wasn’t so sure. Nothing in my previous experience had prepared me for it. It was unusual, somewhat foreign, and sometimes even quite jarring. 

Sometimes it took me a while to settle into it, to get comfortable with it, and to hear the beauty and the truth in it. 

That’s the thing about new ideas. In the beginning, they have no audience. They can’t have an audience because they are new. They haven’t been heard or experienced before. 

It’s difficult to relate to new ideas. Something about them feels off. They make us uncomfortable. But if they are true and we give them a chance, they will change us. 

Music changed me. A thousand times over, it turned my inner life upside down and transformed me into someone new, someone I would and could never be if I hadn’t experienced it. 

I can say the same about books, paintings, films, poems, and even certain meals. 

When someone creates something, and they do so with love, truth, and conviction, it is transformative. It has the power to change the lives of those who experience it.

This is why it is so important to share your art. Even if it is nothing special to you, if it comes from your heart, if you mean it, and it is uniquely your own, you never know who will be moved by it. 

Remember, the best music doesn’t sound like something else. It sounds like itself, like the person or people who created it. For this reason, the best art is a courageous act. 

So act bravely and make art that sounds like you. We may not understand it at first, but we may come to thank you for it later. 

Finding creative freedom

As creatives, we don’t get to decide what of our work will resonate with others and what will fall flat. There is no way of knowing which pieces will find an audience and which will die a quiet, lonely death. Create anyway. Share your work anyway. Create some more.

As people who are called to creative work, our joy and satisfaction must come from the creative process itself or we will find ourselves disappointed and frustrated when our work doesn’t get the response we desire. We have no control over the response to our work. All we can do is create and share. The rest is out of our hands.

The audience gets to determine whether or not they find value in our work, but their response can’t be our focus or we will create fearfully. When we create in anticipation of a response, it changes the way we create. It holds us back and stifles our true voice.

The only way to do work that matters is to create it without the audience in mind. What they do with our work is none of our business. Focus only on listening to your inner voice. Create that which your inner voice begs you to get out.

Listen for where the fear and discomfort is, and lean into that space. The work you are most afraid to do, that part of you that you are most afraid to share, that is where your best work will be found because that is the work that only you can do.

Create from where you are most vulnerable and tender. Share that part of yourself that you fear most being rejected for. This is you. This is your work.

As you create and share, your work will evolve and change, and you will evolve and change through the process. You may never become fearless, but through the process of creating and sharing bravely, you will begin to fear less. You will find a new kind of freedom.