Day 190: Courage Is a Muscle
Each time you act with courage, you strengthen your capacity to do it again.
The Tumbler and the Truth
At first glance, it’s just a stone. Dull, gray, and nondescript. You wouldn’t stop to pick it up. There’s no glimmer, no shine; just a rough surface, maybe some uneven edges or a crack down one side. It doesn’t look like anything special. But drop that same stone into a rock tumbler and walk away for a while; let it clatter and grind against others, hour after hour, day after day and something remarkable happens.
Not immediately. Not after one rotation.
In fact, after the first few spins, it looks the same. The stone tumbles, collides, gets knocked around by its neighbors. It wears away a little. You might even worry you’re damaging it. But leave it in there long enough, through cycles of abrasion and motion, and what once looked ordinary begins to transform. The grit that scours it also smooths it. The friction that batters it also reveals what’s underneath. Eventually, slowly & steadily, the hidden luster comes forward. The stone becomes something else entirely: a polished piece of beauty, shaped by time, persistence, and pressure.
This is the metaphor for courage.
Courage isn’t a firework. It’s not a flash of drama, or a one-time performance of heroism. More often, courage looks like wear and repetition. It looks like choosing to show up, again and again, even when no one notices. It looks like stepping into discomfort, being sanded by fear, rubbed raw by vulnerability, and still deciding to turn back into the spin.
Most of us believe that brave people feel brave. We imagine confidence as the precondition for courageous action, not the result of it. But in truth, courageous people don’t act because they’re fearless, they act in the presence of fear. And the only reason they can act is because they’ve practiced doing it. The only reason the stone shines is because it stayed in the tumbler.
In your own life, courage might not come in grand gestures. It might not look like quitting a job or giving a speech. It might look like pressing “send” on a message you’ve been afraid to write. Like finally making a phone call. Like walking into a new place where you don’t know anyone. Like asking for something you need. These are tumbler moments. They feel small. But they are the slow revolutions that shape your inner shine.
And the thing about tumblers is this: the change isn’t always visible in the moment. You might feel like you’re still just a rough-edged stone, clattering through uncertainty, not knowing if you’re getting anywhere at all. But inside, something is happening. You are being shaped. You are building the strength to withstand discomfort. You are becoming smoother in the ways that matter not more perfect, but more grounded, more whole, more yourself.
If you’ve ever tried to grow in courage, you may have also grown frustrated. “Why do I still feel afraid?” “Why is this still hard?” But just like the rock in the tumbler, change isn’t instantaneous. It's cumulative. The process is the path.
Think of courage not as a leap, but as a rhythm. Every small choice is one more turn in the cycle. Every vulnerable action, one more round of polish. You may not feel different after one act of bravery but after ten? After fifty? You’ll start to notice something. The fear is still there but it doesn’t stop you the way it used to. The edge is still rough but it no longer cuts. You are being refined.
No one becomes courageous by accident. We become courageous because we allow ourselves to tumble. To move toward fear rather than away from it. To choose pressure over stagnation. To stay in motion, knowing that the polish is coming, even if we can’t see it yet.
So when you doubt your strength, remember this: You’re not finished tumbling. And that is a beautiful thing.
Neuroplasticity and the Courage Cycle
The transformation of a stone in a tumbler is not just poetic; it’s physical. It happens because of consistent abrasion: grit, motion, contact, time. Each revolution removes microscopic imperfections. Over time, the chaos of collision creates refinement. And what’s fascinating is that your brain functions in much the same way.
This is the science of neuroplasticity; the brain’s ability to rewire itself based on repeated experience. Every time you act with courage, even in small ways, you’re not just changing your emotional state, you’re literally shaping your brain. You’re reinforcing neural pathways associated with resilience, decision-making, and emotional regulation. You’re making courage easier to access next time because you’ve laid down the track.
In the same way the tumbler uses friction to polish the stone, your brain uses repetition to strengthen neural circuits. If you consistently back away from fear, you reinforce the pathways of avoidance. But if you move toward fear cautiously & gently, you reinforce approach behavior. Over time, this alters your tolerance for discomfort. This is a foundational concept in exposure therapy and behavioral conditioning, and it applies far beyond clinical treatment.
Psychologists call this process desensitization; the more often you engage with a feared stimulus, the less power it has over you. And yet it’s not just about dampening fear, it’s about building something new. The more frequently you choose to speak up, to ask for help, to try something hard, the more your brain associates risk with growth rather than danger. It’s like emotional resistance training: the stress builds your capacity.
Research from Stanford’s Carol Dweck and others on “growth mindset” reinforces this. When we believe our traits are malleable (i.e. not fixed) we’re more likely to engage in challenging tasks, persist through setbacks, and adapt our behavior. Framing courage as a trainable muscle taps into this mindset. It’s not something you have or don’t have; it’s something you build, one choice at a time.
James Clear, author of Atomic Habits, puts it this way: “Each action you take is a vote for the type of person you want to become.” When you practice courage, you're voting for your future self. Not once, but continuously. You’re not polishing a single moment, you’re shaping a character. And like the stone in the tumbler, you may not notice the change right away. But your brain is tracking it. Your body is remembering. Your courage is compounding.
So keep showing up. Keep spinning through the grit. You are building something durable and beautiful within.
Your Three Moments of Courage
Take a moment today to name three ways you’ve acted with courage in the past month. They don’t have to be dramatic or public. In fact, the more personal and quiet, the better. Maybe you:
Admitted something out loud you usually keep hidden
Set a boundary you knew would be hard to maintain
Took the first step toward something you’ve been avoiding
Shared a creative work or vulnerable thought
Said no to something out of alignment with your values
Write them down. Acknowledge them fully. Then reflect:
How did each moment stretch you?
How did it polish some part of you?
What edge softened? What strength emerged?
These acts weren’t random; they were repetitions. They were revolutions in your own tumbler. Let them count.
Final Thoughts
You don’t need to be fearless. You just need to keep moving. Each act of courage lays down a path. Each choice strengthens the muscle. Each moment of bravery, no matter how small, is reshaping you. So keep tumbling. You’re not being broken. You’re being polished.
Read today’s reflection at Lucivara.com
Join us as we explore The Tenet of Courage this July.
#Lucivara #LucivaraCourage #LucivaraOfficial
Copyright © 2025 Lucivara. All rights reserved. This content is protected by copyright law and may not be copied, reproduced, or used without express written permission.
