On the walls of the Danish Maritime Museum in Helsingør there was this quote by one Søren…

On the walls of the Danish Maritime Museum in Helsingør there was this quote by one Søren Kierkegaard. As I was scrolling through the collection of photos that I took while in Denmark, this sprung to my attention.

“Have I dared wrongly, ah well, then life will help me with the punishment. But have I note dared at all, who will help me then?”

Kierkegaard has been a part of seminal Western philosophy and theology for a few hundred years at this point. His existentialist views have, in my mind, been tossed to the wayside over the various agitations of church/state hedgemonies that Christendom has seemed to enjoy over the last fifty years or so, and in the millennia since Constantine. Regardless of your belief system, the idea of individual choice and commitments rests firmly within his realm of reasoning and is at least worth a visit every now and then.

This quote lingers, however, on its own as we face the world around us. It’s a challenge to live boldly in the face of uncertainty for, as it says “who will help me [if I do not dare at all]?” I find, within these words, a certain level of comfort in the challenge of living boldly for regardless of success or failure, life will always provide the resolution.

When we stare in the face of uncertainty, we’re often afraid of what will come back at us. We’re afraid of the unknown, that inky well of darkness that obscures the path ahead. We look to leaders to inspire us, to bolster courage where none is found. We look for wisdom in the winds and leaves and waves in hope that nature, for all her ancient, primordial wisdom, will leave a pearl of knowledge behind. We brace ourselves for the road ahead, knowing not what will come but desperately holding on for dear life.

Courage, dear souls, is found in inevitability. It’s found in the dared-to-be-dreamed, in the recognition that “damned if you do, damned if you don’t” is less platitude and more a call to arms. Perhaps it’s a throwaway for the more fortunate, where survival rests on the ability to order takeaway each day of the week versus those whose every breath is a measured bargain for life itself.

Courage isn’t found in the ornamentations of religion or the saints. It’s not a godhood ascribed to politicians or ideology. It’s neither building nor pulpit, social action nor forced march. It’s not right or left, moderate or severe, gilded or rubbed bare. It’s found in the mettle of being.

These ancient histories of Denmark, the wizened philosopher poets of yore, the broken stones and ornamented pews and balustrades, all serve as reminders that courage comes from a dare offered to oneself: to challenge the darkness with intrinsic light and purpose. For what is there to lose other than the life we will lose inevitably?

I challenge you, dear souls, in the weeks that remain of a year that has seen courage take on new meaning to each, to dare. To step out of the comfort of the known and into the bracing darkness of the unknown. To risk, however much you value, the chance of realization and illumination; to find the path your soul must still tread in the years ahead. Courage, dear hearts, is the dare we must all take.

May it ever be so.