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Being Brave

I can never be perfect, and I’m going to stop trying to be someone else’s version of it.

This year, I’m going to cut loose. Break free. Fly like an arrow sprung from its bow. And a thousand-and-one other clichés that remind me of songs and all mean the same thing.

I am going to give honest opinions and upset a few people. They’ll get over it. And, if they don’t, oh well. My object is never to wound. There are moments to speak and moments to hold your peace. I will rely on my conscience to tell me which is which.

I’m going to be myself. That goofy, screwed-up, sing-in-the-car optimist with thick-soled feet for shoes and rain in her hair. I’m going to wear clothes best suited to fantasy characters – because this is the attire that makes me feel most alive. I will celebrate woodland tones, bask in lemon yellows. I will welcome the breeze and soak in blue sky. There’s a lot of beauty in this world, if you look for it.

A few years ago, one of my New Year’s resolutions was to be brave, be bold. It occurs to me that this is something to commit to again and again. I want to be a force for good. So I’ll endeavour to be the brightest version of myself.


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