Bravery

This blog post corresponds to a series we’re running over at Aetheria Movement - my virtual fitness and yoga business.  If you want to read more inspiring stories of bravery from Aetheria community members, make sure to subscribe to the AM newsletter, here.

A sunrise photo of two horses on my walk from the first day of surf lessons, January 2025.

Thoughts on bravery: Bravery is a tricky word, I find. It’s one that I’ve had a complicated relationship with over my life. I often feel much less brave than others, and I’ve even choked up when describing myself as such because if felt so untrue.  Yes, we are all brave, and bravery can happen in the big sweeps of the local nightly news and the very small internal shifts or daily acts that remind us we have the capacity for bravery. What’s brave for you today may not be what is brave for you in 5 years, and what’s brave for me may not be brave for you - context, history, trauma exposure, and more all make for our unique stories of bravery.

Question: What seeds are we watering, as the Buddhists would say? If we want to water the seeds of bravery how do we do that? Or, does life do it for us?

Taken a few days before surf lessons on a nearby beach, January 2025.

My story of bravery: As a birthday gift to myself this year, I registered for a two-day multi-hour surf lesson with a local instructor in a small town on the Southern Pacific Coast of Costa Rica. The surf school doubles as a retreat center, owned by an American, with surf coaches from Costa Rica and other countries. 

I’ve loved water for as long as I can remember, being put into swim lessons as a young kid and with two parents who adored swimming when they got to a body of water. 

The first day of the lesson, the day before my actual birthday, almost as soon as I took my board in the ocean, I got stung by a sting ray (and yes “I was shuffling my feet for sting rays,” or so I thought). It was painful, yet, I tried to carry on. I did tell the instructor, Dennis, that it happened, just to keep things above board. He told me to let him know if it got too painful or radiated up my leg.  I carried on for a little longer, trying to catch some of the white break in the shallows (which was our assignment for that day).  Then, my intuition kicked in to say, take a beat. Dennis reminded me to keep my foot buried in hot sand and then brought a huge, fresh coconut for me to enjoy and a bucket of boiling hot water to soak my foot in. I took in the beautiful scenery - a huge, sandy beach - maybe 3-4 football fields from the palm log I sat on to the start of the tide coming in to shore. I watched my fellow classmate catch waves and fall; I watched families enjoying their time, and other, experienced surfers waiting for the perfect wave past the break.  

A part of me wanted to feel pity for myself - damn, always something with you. 

A part of me wanted to feel fear - what if I go back in and get stung again?

A part of me wanted to give up.

And then, I thought about how I had wanted to try surfing for years, but never doing it and now was the perfect place and time - it was my birthday gift to myself. I had a class size of 2 and an instructor who knew what he was doing and was incredibly conscientious.

After feeling the pain subside, maybe it was 15 minutes, I grabbed my board and went back into the water, surfing for the rest of the allotted time. The sting was mildly painful throughout the day, but overall fine. I taught a yoga class afterwards and walked our dog.

Day two of the surf lesson was my actual birthday. The sting was barely palpable (although I had a something visible on the bottom of my foot). When we got to the ocean, the surf conditions were perfect for a beginner, the sun was out, and I was the only student that day. Dennis felt like I could try some harder things, like going past the break to the green.

Again, my fear kicked in. These thoughts rushed in almost all at once: 

A birthday photo after the final morning of surfing.

Could I do this?! While I have a love of the water and ocean, I have a fear of drowning (my ability to hold my breath underwater is minimal), and being a contact wearer worry that I can’t see underwater. Also, what if I get caught in a wave’s white water and spin out with the board hitting my head?

Then, I remembered that I was here to try something new, and hard, and it was my freaking birthday! I was finally trying something new (with my body - I love a physical challenge!) after all these years. Giving up now to fear would be silly.  

I had a great instructor and coach backing me up those days, too! Having someone in your corner who knows what they are doing, you trust to keep you as safe as possible, and encourages you to see your potential, when maybe you can’t even see it - that is such a boost to bravery!

It was so fun - hard, tiring, and rewarding. I was paddling out and back. I learned the tootsie roll and did it successfully at least two times, and I rode in a few waves from green to white. Most were with a push from Dennis, but I believe at least one I did all on my own. 

I’ve watched 100 Foot Wave (great series) and know folks who surf regularly.  I have heard the joys and awe of being in nature doing something physical with a tool (the surfboard) that is both a built in life raft and can be a weapon if projected by the ocean. So much observation and presence goes into surfing - being attune to the sea for both safety and to catch a wave. It’s unlike anything I’ve done before with my body!

When I would get on the board and hear Dennis cheering me or coaching me to go left or right or bend my knees more, I would actively engage with my fear and my bravery.

I have zero photos from those days, but such potent memories, maybe in part because of the sting ray sting;). I trusted myself and felt supported by instructor and nature. I didn’t let myself get caught up in the show of it, but stayed present and alive.

I let bravery win and what an amazing birthday gift and first time surfing!

What’s your story of bravery in 2025?