On Courage

I’ve been writing music since I was about 15 years old. That’s around the same time I picked up the guitar and taught myself to play a few chords; something which came fairly quickly to me, since Mum enrolled me in piano lessons at a young age. I believe that once you’ve learned one instrument, it’s a little easier to expand on your musical skill set.

I like to think of 15 as the start of my rebellious years - not that I was an overly angsty teenager - but my love for Michelle Branch and Avril Lavigne did influence my creative expression - the cargo pants and crop tops, black-painted nails, heavy eyeliner - and the copious amount of time spent in my bedroom alone writing moody song lyrics and making up melodies on my second hand acoustic guitar.

I’ve always been a sensitive soul and like most of us, my youth wasn’t without its challenges - the high school bullies, body image issues and peer pressures still exist somewhere in the recesses of my mind. Yet despite all of it, in hindsight, I still consider those the good old days.

Things weren’t perfect - they never are - but things were good. I count my blessings for a safe and supported childhood and I reflect now on how free I was to explore my creativity in so many ways.

Music and songwriting formed a significant part of that self-expression and though nothing has really become of the things I’ve written and composed, I’m amazed by the fact that I’ve been writing poetry and songs for over half of my lifetime.

Like journaling, or as was more common in the nineties, ‘keeping a diary’, poetry and songwriting have become more than just a hobby and rather, a form of therapy for me. It’s a cathartic process that allows me to confront and work through what I’m feeling. I often find that when I put pen to paper, or text to screen, I can better wrestle with my emotions and build some kind of confidence to face my challenges. To discover some kind of courage. To cultivate a sense of hope.

After a bit of a dry spell, I started writing music again in October of last year. And it was only a week or so ago that I penned a new song that I’ve entitled, ‘Glow’.

In writing the lyrics, I’ve realised just how much I’ve been holding onto the person I used to be. And I know that there is not much use dwelling in the past, but to reminisce on the good old days can be a form of gratitude, and for me, serves as a reminder of the courageous person I once was, and can be again someday.

For the second verse and pre-chorus I wrote:

When I was young, I showed the world all I could be
Top of my lungs, I’d sing the songs that set me free
I know that glow will find its way back ‘round
But for now, I miss the good old days

I remember through the pictures
I remember through the tales
The memories that melodies create
How I long to feel the way I did those days

I haven’t been able to get the song out of my head. It has played on loop these last few days and I’ve been reviewing it frequently to tweak some lyrics and musical structure. And I’ve been reflecting on how courage and a love for life makes a person ‘glow’.

To ‘glow’ is to use the fire inside of us, to share our gifts, to spread light and kindness and emanate joy.

When a woman falls pregnant, she is often told she is ‘glowing’, perhaps because the new life developing inside of her is the ultimate symbol of creation, a precious gift being nurtured to soon live its unique purpose out in the world.

To ‘glow’ is to combat the darkness with an undeniable light (source and) force that offers a way out of struggle, pain and adversity. That enables our sight in the fog. That glimmers with hope.

I think back to the glow of my youth with fond memories, even though life hasn’t been perfect and will never be. Yet I was once glowing with courage, especially in my creativity. I was a little more fearless, a little more free. And I know that if I keep on this journey of reflection and exploration through this podcast, I’ll learn to glow again.

And I’ll rebuild the courage to share my voice and shine my light, just as I did in the good old days.