No envy. No Fear.

I'm not quite clear what inner strength is. Neither am I clear what courage is. If I have to think about a definition of those, it confuses me, as if the definition should be something fully tangible.

I had the wonderful opportunity recently to catch up with a beautiful friend whom I lived for two years during an overseas stint with over a decade ago. The stark differences in how we each remember our experiences gave me an incredible opportunity to reflect on how paths are so individually tread. Even ten years on, her reference point is that overseas post. With a husband and two small children, she is seeking every opportunity to return, to connect, and I wonder, to relive? As for myself, that post was a reference point best left in the past, and my future is seeking challenging opportunities in which I can learn and grow. I feel no great need to connect to that past, except if it helps to better inform my future.

If people tell me that I am courageous, I block it out – literally, it will go in one ear and out the other. I am not courageous when my knuckles turn white from grasping the armrests on a turbulent airplane ride. I'm not courageous when the questioning from Israeli authorities leaves me trying to mentally jump through an obstacle course of lies. I am not courageous when I know I have to do things differently at work to get a different result, but I prefer the less energy-draining path of not thinking about a way to take on my problem and find a solution.

Inner strength to me assumes a block of ageless granite which can withstand winds, rain, storms, and heat without a single chip, bend, or watermark. Maybe my age marks are not so visible, but there are plenty of internal grooves and marks (samskaras). I try to remold them – is that the elusive inner strength? I hardly feel like a block of granite. I feel more closely affiliated to a fledgling bird that has been dropped from its nest. Inner strength eludes me when there is still one more heated conversation I need to have with the Ex to help him more fully understand his fathering responsibilities. Inner strength eludes me when I know that getting out of my shell is much better for me than hibernating in it. Inner strength eludes me when I have to pull myself out of bed some mornings.

I thought I would envy my friend – husband, beautiful home, children – everything I wanted. Everything I think I still want. But I did not feel envy. I felt an odd sense of contentment at my fly by the pants life decisions that brought me to the footprint I occupy today. My friend told me that in a recent conversation she had with a mutual friend of ours that they decided that age has made them more "bitter" – I'm sure I audibly gasped when she said it. Bitter is definitely not an adjective I'd ever like to own. Realistic - YES. A little less optimistic – YES. Bitter – NEVER.

There was one day a few years back that I woke up and literally felt my vision had changed overnight, as if somebody had taken off the smudged, rose colored glasses I was wearing. I felt like I've heard people describe their vision after getting Lasik surgery. Literally, the blue of the sky was starker, the contrast of the green trees against the sky was more vivid, and the outlines of houses and buildings were sharper. I can't describe what happened to spark this sudden clarity in my eye sight, which had an equal impact on the clarity of my thoughts. But because of that, I am sometimes fearless. And it is as if the ability to see clearly, trust clearly, know clearly, is the antidote for bitterness, and maybe fear and envy as well.