Day 184: Your Strength Is Already Here
Opening Reflection
Most of the time, courage doesn’t look the way we think it should. It doesn’t show up in armor or triumph. It doesn’t thunder in like a hero’s entrance. Real courage, true courage, tends to smolder. It’s quiet. Tense. Often invisible to others. It burns beneath the surface, like embers buried in ash.
You may think of courage as something you need to go out and find. As if it lives far away, in a mountaintop monastery or inside someone more capable, louder, or braver than you. But what if courage isn’t out there? What if it’s already here within you waiting for your breath, your awareness, your hand to brush away the soot? Courage isn’t absence of fear; it’s presence despite it. And sometimes, that presence can change everything.
Consider a moment in history you may not have heard of.
It’s October 27, 1962. The world is gripped by the Cuban Missile Crisis. American destroyers are dropping depth charges to force Soviet submarines to surface. One such submarine, B-59, has lost communication with Moscow. The crew believes war has likely begun. Inside that vessel, the officers hold the power to launch a nuclear torpedo. Only three men are required to authorize the launch. Two are ready. The third, the only one who says no, is a man named Vasili Arkhipov.
He doesn't yell. He doesn’t make a speech. He just stands firm in the heat, darkness, and pressure, and says no. His resistance prevents the torpedo launch. And in that silence, the world survives. Later studies would confirm: had B-59 fired, full nuclear war would likely have followed. No medals awaited him. His courage wasn’t recognized. His name was almost forgotten. He went home, got sick from radiation exposure, and quietly continued his naval career. Decades passed before the full story emerged.
But today, historians credit him with saving the world.
Let that sit for a moment: the man who stopped nuclear war wasn’t famous, flashy, or well-rewarded. His act of courage wasn’t visible. It didn’t look “heroic.” It looked like holding steady in the storm.
It looked like a quiet ember under pressure.
You may not be in a submarine. But perhaps you've stood at your own edge of conflict or collapse. Maybe you've had to say no when everyone else was shouting yes. Maybe you've walked away when staying would have destroyed you. Maybe you've kept a truth burning in your chest even when the world said extinguish it.
These are not small things. They are everything.
Because courage doesn’t announce itself. It doesn’t need applause. Its power comes from its truth. And that truth is this: you have already been brave. Even if the world didn’t see it. Even if no one gave you a standing ovation. Even if your own fear tried to tell you otherwise. Some fires burn bright. Others burn slow. But both are fire. Both are strength.
So today, we don’t ask you to find something new. We ask you to return to something ancient and already within you. Beneath the layers of fear, doubt, and fatigue, there is an ember that remembers.
It remembers the moment you stayed when it was hard. The time you tried again when you thought you’d failed for good. The voice you raised when your throat was shaking. The tear you let fall when you could’ve hidden it. That ember, your ember doesn’t need to be dazzling. It only needs oxygen. A little air. A little love.
Which brings us to today’s question: What if courage isn’t a spark you ignite but a fire you uncover?
The Science of Courage: Your Brain Knows the Way
You might think that courage is a rare trait something reserved for war heroes, whistleblowers, or legends. But neuroscience tells a different story. Courage is not a superpower. It’s a response pattern and one that lives inside you already. When Vasili Arkhipov stood his ground in the submarine that day, he wasn’t immune to fear. His nervous system would’ve been flooded with stress: increased heart rate, tunnel vision, clenched muscles. But something within him, a deeper, stabilizing force, overrode the panic.
So how does that work?
Researchers studying courageous behavior have identified a fascinating pattern in the brain. In high-stress situations, the amygdala (the brain’s fear center) becomes hyperactive, sounding internal alarms. But when a person chooses to act anyway, another region steps in: the subgenual anterior cingulate cortex (sgACC). This area helps suppress fear signals and regulate emotional response. In short: courage isn't the absence of fear; it's the decision to turn down its volume.
A 2007 study from the Weizmann Institute in Israel asked participants to walk toward a threatening object (a tarantula) while their brain activity was monitored. Those who successfully approached the spider had greater sgACC activity. They still felt fear but they acted anyway. Their embers glowed hotter than their alarms. Psychologist Dr. Cynthia Pury adds that even small acts of bravery can reshape how we see ourselves. When we reflect on past moments of courage our brains activate the same neural pathways associated with resilience. It’s called memory reconsolidation: by revisiting a moment of strength, we reinforce it neurologically. In other words: remembering your courage helps you build more of it. So if you’ve ever dismissed your bravery because no one clapped, don’t! Your nervous system noticed. And it has been learning all along.
Practice: Rekindle the Fire Within
Take a quiet moment today. Find stillness not to silence the world, but to listen more closely to yourself. Courage doesn’t often scream. It whispers. It flickers. And it waits for you to notice. Let this practice be your way of blowing gently on the embers.
The Moment You Didn’t Back Down:
Recall a time however small when you acted with courage.
What was happening?
What did you feel in your body?
What fear was present?
What value or truth did you protect or reclaim?
Did anyone notice your courage? Does it matter if they didn’t?
Give your past self the credit they earned.
The Courage You Carry But Haven’t Claimed:
Is there a moment you’ve never called courageous, but might be?
Was there a choice you made that required more strength than you realized at the time?
Is there a part of your story that deserves to be reclaimed as brave?
Write these down. Name them. See them for what they were.
Who You Were Then vs. Who You Are Now:
If you had to face that moment again today, would you still choose the same path?
Has your understanding of bravery changed over time?
What would your younger self be proud of in you now?
You are the firekeeper of your story. You get to name what was hard. You get to call it brave.
Optional Practice if writing doesn’t feel right today, try this:
Sit in a quiet space and place your hand over your heart.
Close your eyes.
Recall a moment you were brave.
Breathe into it.
Say to yourself: “I remember. You were brave.”
Say it again. Let it land. Let your body hear what your mind may have forgotten.
Closing Words
There is nothing missing from you. Nothing you need to earn before you can be considered brave. The ember has always been there glowing, waiting, remembering. The world may never fully recognize the quiet acts of courage that define your life. You may not stand on podiums or have your name in history books. But none of that changes the truth: you have stood strong in moments no one saw. You have done hard things. You have kept going when it would’ve been easier to disappear.
Let this truth settle into your bones.
Courage doesn’t ask for spectacle. It asks for honesty. It asks for you to show up to your own life. And you have. Maybe imperfectly. Maybe with trembling hands. But you have.
If you feel the ember today however faint give it your breath. Sit with it. Let your hand rest on your chest. Feel the rhythm of your body. Feel your aliveness. Whisper the words, if you can: “I remember. You were brave.” Even if your voice shakes, say it. That’s the ember. That’s the warmth. Your strength is not something you have to find. It’s something you have to trust.
Let today be a return. Let today be the day you call your courage by its name.
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