"From Caring Comes Courage". - Lao Tzu.
I recently heard someone describe the incredible new quality of love they were capable of experiencing towards their newborn daughter. They went on to explain the ways in which they could tell they had been initiated into a capacity for love that was entirely different from what they had been capable of feeling before: "Before this, I think I simply hoped that I would have the courage to jump in front of a bus or a bullet for someone else. Now I know I would". Their words reminded me of the Lao Tzu quote at the top of this post, and also reaffirmed to me what I've been remembering lately: It takes courage to care about something because we know that any experience of caring will both beget and require more and more courage from us as we continue caring for it.
Getting married was one of the experiences that helped initiate me into a deeper understanding of the connection between caring and courage, as it required me to relate to my intuitive sense that I was signing up for a lifetime of learning how to become both more courageous and more caring towards this person I was marrying. I did not know what "for better or for worse" could or would look like, and I had no interest in being naive about the vows I was making either. My willingness to be that conscious about the phenomena of marriage required the kind of courage that could only come from a very deep caring for the man I was going to marry, the relationship I was agreeing to enter into, as well as my own set of personal need-strengths and limits. I think this honest reflection has helped both of us navigate the circumstances in which we've needed to become more caring and more courageous towards one another. I don't doubt that this will ever cease, and I'm powerfully grateful for that -- even though I still don't know what "for better or for worse" might look like for us.
Collectively, I believe we value both caring and courage in ourselves and others because it's the pro-social glue that holds the human species together. Ironically, we have often learned that caring and courage can also be socially dangerous at times. Maybe you were the child on the playground that cared deeply about the other child who was being actively bullied. If you let your caring dictate a courageous gesture, you might soon find yourself on the receiving end of the bully's aggression. Perhaps you had the courage to tell someone that you liked, wanted, desired, or needed them, and were consequently rejected or humiliated. So we become defended against both caring and courage in order to protect what's left of our delicate little egos. To still appear socially attractive, we may learn how to pretend to care, or how to practice things that look like courage (but involve no real risk to our personal sense of safety).
For example, I notice that I'm willing to navigate intensely difficult interpersonal dynamics and admit my own shortcomings when I actually care deeply for the other person and the relationship itself. I'm also willing to spend precious time, energy, and resources on the things I genuinely care about. It should be noted that the word courage comes from latin roots that further illustrates this connection to caring. In latin, the word means something like "to speak one's mind by telling one's whole heart". If courage is about telling one's whole heart, it also sounds like an invitation for lots of gut-wrenching honesty with oneself and others. In light of this, I've started to examine the sincerity of my caring by the measure of real courage I experience in relation to it. If I discover that I don't care as much as I want to care, then I have an opportunity to examine the psychological defenses that are holding me back. As someone who is devoted to the ongoing process of wholeness, I'm often acutely aware that we have to be first willing to feel the experience of our heart in order to then speak about it. That's a pretty courageous task in and of itself, which makes me think that even "caring about caring" involves some spark of real courage.
Echoing Lao Tzu's original sentiment, the social scientist, TedTalk celebrity, and author of the Ordinary Courage blog, Brene Brown, says it this way: "vulnerability is our most accurate measurement of courage". My conclusion: I believe the only real choices we have is this non-linear relationship between caring and courage is whether or not we will be open towards our own heart-felt response to things.
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