Courage Is Calling: Fortune Favors the Brave (The Stoic Virtues Series)

by Ryan Holiday

Courage, bravery, fortitude, honor, sacrifice . . . Temperance, self-control, moderation, composure, balance . . . Justice, fairness, service, fellowship, goodness, kindness . . . Wisdom, knowledge, education, truth, self-reflection, peace . . . These are the key to a life of honor, of glory, of excellence in every sense.

There is no deed in this life so impossible that you cannot do it. Your whole life should be lived as a heroic deed. Leo Tolstoy

Courage is risk. It is sacrifice . . . . . . commitment . . . perseverance . . . truth . . . determination. When you do the thing others cannot or will not do. When you do the thing that people think you shouldn’t or can’t do. Otherwise it’s not courage. You have to be braving something or someone.

“To each,” Winston Churchill would say, “there comes in their lifetime a special moment when they are figuratively tapped on the shoulder and offered the chance to do a very special thing, unique to them and fitted to their talents. What a tragedy if that moment finds them unprepared or unqualified for that which could have been their finest hour.”

History is written with blood, sweat, and tears, and it is etched into eternity by the quiet endurance of courageous people. People who stood up (or sat down) . . . People who fought . . . People who risked . . . People who spoke . . . People who tried . . . People who conquered their fears, who acted with courage, and, in some cases, briefly achieved that higher plane of existence—they entered the hall of heroes as peers and equals.

Courage calls each of us differently, at different times, in different forms. But in every case it is, as they say, coming from inside the house. First, we are called to rise above our fear and cowardice. Next, we are called to bravery, over the elements, over the odds, over our limitations. Finally, we are called to heroism, perhaps for only just a single magnificent moment, when we are called to do something for someone other than ourselves.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears Looms but the Horror of the shade, And yet the menace of the years Finds and shall find me unafraid. William Ernest Henley

It’s impossible to beat an enemy you do not understand, and fear—in all its forms, from terror to apathy to hatred to playing it small—is the enemy of courage.

Fear does this. It keeps us from our destiny. It holds us back. It freezes us. It gives us a million reasons why. Or why not.

Today, each of us receives our own call. To service. To take a risk. To challenge the status quo. To run toward while others run away. To rise above our station. To do what people say is impossible. There will be so many reasons why this will feel like the wrong thing to do. There will be incredible pressure to put these thoughts, these dreams, this need, out of our mind. Depending on where we are and what we seek to do, the resistance we face may be simple incentives . . . or outright violence. Fear will make itself felt. It always does. Will we let it prevent us from answering the call? Will we leave the phone ringing? Or will we inch ourselves closer and closer, as Nightingale did, steeling ourselves, preparing ourselves, until we’re ready to do what we were put here to do?

You can’t let fear rule. Because there has never been a person who did something that mattered without pissing people off. There has never been a change that was not met with doubts. There has never been a movement that was not mocked. There was never a groundbreaking business that wasn’t loudly predicted to fail. And there has never, ever been a time when the average opinion of faceless, unaccountable strangers should be valued above our own considered judgment.

Several times a day, Napoleon believed a commander should ask themselves, “What if the enemy were to appear now to my front, or on my right, or on my left?” We can imagine that the point of this exercise was not to make his generals anxious. No, it was to make sure they were prepared. Yet we’re too worried about “tempting fate” or “manifesting bad energy” to practice this kind of diligent leadership. And it is in fact the leader’s job to think about the unthinkable. For more than two thousand years, military leaders have had some version of the same maxim: The only inexcusable offense for an officer is to be surprised. To say, I didn’t think that would happen. Each of us needs to cultivate the courage to actually look at what we’re afraid of.

When fear is defined, it can be defeated. When downside is articulated, it can be weighed against upside. When the wolves are counted, there are fewer of them. Mountains turn out to be molehills, monsters turn out just to be men. When our enemies are humanized, they can be better understood.

Vague fear is sufficient to deter us; the more it is explored, the less power it has over us. Which is why we must attack these faulty premises and root them out like the cancers they are. We were afraid because we didn’t know. We were vulnerable because we didn’t know. But now we do. And with awareness we can proceed.

Don’t worry about whether things will be hard. Because they will be. Instead, focus on the fact that these things will help you. This is why you needn’t fear them.

Our bruises and scars become armor. Our struggles become experience. They make us better. They prepared us for this moment, just as this moment will prepare us for one that lies ahead. They are the flavoring that makes victory taste so sweet.

The brave don’t despair. They believe. They are not cynical, they care. They think there is stuff worth dying for—that good and evil exist. They know that life has problems but would rather be part of the solution than a bystander. “Life is real! Life is earnest!”

We don’t want to offend. We don’t want trouble. We don’t want to lose our access. Or our power. Or our pension. Or our privileges. We tell ourselves we can pull off the high-wire act. So we lie. Or we compromise. Or worse, we cower.

All growth is a leap in the dark. If you’re afraid of that, you’ll never do anything worthwhile. If you take counsel of your fears, you’ll never take that step, make that leap.

The coward waits for the stairs that will never come. They want to know the probabilities. They want time to prepare. They want assurances. They hope for a reprieve. They’re willing to give up anything to get these things, including this moment of opportunity that will never, ever come back.

If fear is to be a driving force in your life, fear what you’ll miss. Fear what happens if you don’t act. Fear what they’ll think of you down the road, for having dared so little. Think of what you’re leaving on the table. Think of the terrifying costs of playing small. The fear you feel is a sign. If courage is never required in your life, you’re living a boring life. Put yourself in a position that demands you leap.

All certainty is uncertain. You’re not safe. You never will be. No one is. In putting safety above everything, we actually put ourselves in danger. Of being forgotten. Of never coming close. Of being complicit.

No rule is perfect, but this one works: Our fears point us, like a self-indicting arrow, in the direction of the right thing to do. One part of us knows what we ought to do, but the other part reminds us of the inevitable consequences. Fear alerts us to danger, but also to opportunity. If it wasn’t scary, everyone would do it. If it was easy, there wouldn’t be any growth in it. That tinge of self-preservation is the pinging of the metal detector going off. We may have found something.

Fear votes for hesitation, it always has a reason for not doing and so it rarely does anything. If we don’t find ourselves experiencing this hesitation every so often, we should know that we are not pushing ourselves enough.

Be a cop. Be a soldier. Be a philosopher. Be another musician in a long tradition of rock music. Hold somebody’s hand. Just make sure that underneath, you are being yourself. That you are not letting fear shut you up or put you down. That you are not doing what everyone else is doing simply because they are doing it. Be original. Be yourself. To be anything else is to be a coward. Don’t let the opinion of cowards influence what you think or do. The future depends on it.

When we flee in the direction of comfort, of raising no eyebrows, of standing in the back of the room instead of the front, what we are fleeing is opportunity. When we defer to fear, when we let it decide what we will and won’t do, we miss so much. Not just success, but actualization. Who might we be if we didn’t care about blushing? What could we accomplish if we didn’t mind the spotlight? If we were tough enough to put on the tights? If we were willing not only to fail but to do so in front of others?

Sometimes just the ask itself is a breakthrough. The admission unlocks something within. Now we’re powerful enough to solve our problem. We are as sick as our secrets. We are at the mercy of fears we dare not articulate, paralyzed by assumptions we refuse to put to the test. It’s okay to need a minute. It’s okay to need a helping hand. To need reassurance, a favor, forgiveness, whatever. Need therapy? Go! Need to start over? Okay! Need to steady yourself on someone’s shoulder? Of course!

You won’t get any of this if you don’t ask. You won’t get what you’re afraid to admit you need. So ask now, right now, while you have the courage. Before it’s too late. We’re in this mission together. We’re comrades. Ask for help. It’s not just brave, it’s the right thing to do.

Fear, before you’re actually in the battle, is a normal emotional reaction. It’s the last step of preparation, the not-knowing . . . This is where you’ll prove you’re a good soldier. That first fight—that fight with yourself—will have gone. Then you will be ready to fight the enemy. Army Life (handbook), 1944

We choose what voice we will listen to. We choose whether we’ll play it safe, think small, be afraid, conform, hide, or be cynical. We choose whether we will break these fears down, whether we’ll go our own way, whether we look down over the side of the narrow bridge and turn back—or keep going. To have courage? To brave fear? That’s our call. We don’t have to do it. But we can’t escape the fact that it is the thing upon which every other good thing depends. What we want in life, what the world needs—all of it is on the other side of fear. All of it is accessed through courage, should we choose to wield it.

When we follow our destiny, when we seize what is meant to be ours, we are never alone. We are walking alongside Hercules. We are following in the footsteps of the greats. We are guided by God, by the gods, by a guiding spirit, the same one that guided de Gaulle and Napoleon, Joan of Arc, Charlemagne, and every other great man and woman of history.

Courage may call for us to stand alone, alone against the incredible adversity, even against what feels like the entire world. But we are not afraid, because we are not actually alone when we take that stand. For behind us, as there was for de Gaulle, there is a great empire. And we must know that if we fight hard and long enough, we will find everyone is with us.

Training is not just something that athletes and soldiers do. It is the key to overcoming fear in any and all situations. What we do not expect, what we have not practiced, has an advantage over us. What we have prepared for, what we have anticipated, we will be able to answer. As Epictetus says, the goal when we experience adversity is to be able to say, “This is what I’ve trained for, for this is my discipline.” If you don’t want to flinch when it comes, Seneca would say around the same time, train before it comes.

What we are familiar with, we can manage. Danger can be mitigated by experience and by good training. Fear leads to aversion. Aversion to cowardice. Repetition leads to confidence. Confidence leads to courage.

With practice, you go through the actions in your mind. You build the muscle memory of what you do in this situation or that one. You learn how to fortify and are fortified in the process. You run through the drills, you play your scales. You have someone ask you purposely tough questions. You get comfortable with discomfort. You train at your T-pace for deliberate intervals, raising your threshold as a runner. You familiarize. You assemble your rifle with a blindfold on, you work out with a weight vest on. You do it a thousand times, and then a thousand times more while there is no pressure so that when there is, you’ll know exactly what to do. Know-how is a help. But it’s preparation that makes you brave.

We get started. We do what we can, where we are, with what we have. It adds up.

In the words of the decorated Navy SEAL Jocko Willink, to get over the fear, you go. You just do. You leap into the dark. It is the only way. Because if you don’t, what looms? Failure. Regret. Shame. A lost opportunity. Any hope of moving forward.

You can’t beat a problem by debating it, only by deciding what you’re going to do about it and then doing it. Not a decision for decision’s sake, of course, but the right call, right now. And if your decision happens to be wrong, or you make a mistake, then decide again, with the same kind of courage and clarity.

“You know,” Matt Damon’s character says to his young son, “sometimes all you need is twenty seconds of insane courage. Just literally twenty seconds of just embarrassing bravery. And I promise you, something great will come of it.”

Whatever it is, whatever you’re doing, you must pursue it aggressively. When you operate out of fear, when you’re on our heels, you have no shot. It’s simply not possible to lead that way. To succeed, you must take the offensive. Even when you’re being cautious, it must come with the assumption of constant advance, an insistent move toward victory always. You have to demand control of the tempo. You have to set the tempo—in battle, in the boardroom, in matters both big and small. You want them to fear what you are going to do, not the other way around.

We cannot tolerate abuse, constraints, or injustice. We can’t hide from our problems. We can only step to them. Submission is no cure. Nor can we expect outrages to magically go away on their own. We must draw the line, somewhere—if not right now, then very soon. We must demand our sovereignty. Insist on it. Each of us has more power than we know. And by demanding our rights—by fighting back against oppression or abuse or poor treatment—we’re not only being brave, we are, like Douglass, helping everyone who comes after us.

This is the rule: You decided to go. Now you have to own what happens. No excuses. No exceptions. That you carry your own weight in this world, that is all we ask. That you own your own actions. Certainly when you’re a leader. The buck stops with you. Always. “It’s not my fault.” “It’s not my problem.” “Don’t blame me.” These are not phrases that can exist in your vocabulary. Not if you want to be great. Not unless you’re a coward.

If you’re going to speak out: Sign your name. Sign your name on everything you do. That’s the brave—no, the basic—thing to do. You break it, you buy it. You make the move, you own it. You say it, you stand behind it. You order it, you accept the blame. This is the source from which self-respect springs and leaders are made.

We won’t always be successful, but we have to try. We can’t harden our hearts or turn up our televisions. We don’t need to wait for some enormous moment. It’s about what we do every day—for ourselves, for other people.

When you encounter real courage in this world, you will feel its intensity before you see it. It will not manifest in a caricature of the thrill-seeker or the daredevil. The courageous do not, as we have said, run around half-cocked. They are not stupid and therefore do not actively seek conflict. Even in their daring, they will be subdued unless you happen to find them in the midst of one of those rare decisive moments

Leaving is scary. The end of something can feel like a kind of dying. Somewhere or something new means uncertainty. It is risky. It is painful. It requires hard decisions. No one can promise you that the next place, the next try will go better. But it’s pretty certain that continuing to do the same thing in the same way in the same place over and over is not just insanity, but eventually a form of cowardice.

Knowing what it takes to leap ourselves, we ought to admire it when we see it in others. We should let it inspire us too—no situation is hopeless, we’re never without agency. We can always bravely pack up and move.

Imagine that your own ancestors—of blood and of bravery—are standing here, watching you, protecting you. Remind yourself what they would do right here and right now. You can’t let them down. So be braver. Right now. Here, in this decisive moment.

Man is pushed by drives. But he is pulled by values. Viktor Frankl

In the world’s broad field of battle, In the bivouac of Life, Be not like dumb, driven cattle! Be a hero in the strife! —Henry Wadsworth Longfellow