When I was 23, I loaded my new VW Fox with books, a stereo, and a few clothes. My parents insisted on a CB radio for my long drive from Ohio to Southern California. If they only knew what real dangers lie ahead. I was just a country girl on my way to teach inner-city high school where the kids became gangsters at night. I showed up every day with inexperienced and enthusiastic lessons. It was thrilling.

One night while taking kids home after a speech tournament, which bordered on stupid at the time and would never happen today, I passed a group of young men prowling the neighborhood. One of my students was in the lead, so I stopped, rolled down the window, and brightly said, “Hi Anthony! What are you doing out so late?”

Anthony leaned in with fingers full of gold rings and a huge smile. “Yo, Ms. Silvus! What are you doing out so late?” We laughed and chatted while his homies casually surrounded the VW. Before losing my hubcaps or something worse, I quickly wrapped up with a half-joking, half-stern, “Have a good night, and stay out of trouble!”

What can we learn now from those years of taking risks and circling around stupid? I have memories of nocturnal train compartments and hostels with strangers, hook-ups with men in foreign lands and languages, taxi drivers going out of their way to get me to a train on time, hitchhiking down a mountain—just once, Olympus, had a blast.

Of course I learned how to discern safer, healthier choices. Maybe I’m lucky that nothing “bad” enough ever happened. Or maybe there is rarely enough of a reason to be afraid, to hold back.

So why today do I tend to keep it safe, arranging life for quiet and harmony? I’m wondering if it’s a lapse in courage. The word courage, from the Anglo-French curage, coer, and Latin cor, means from the heart. Seems like a good frame to ask these questions—and take some action.

Because courage may explain how I got along with those gangsters. Anthony barely attended school and was later accused of stabbing another student on campus. I still liked him and hopefully treated him like everyone else— expected their best, laughed at them, refused to feel intimidated. I didn’t know what else to do anyway. I was leading with my heart while my inexperience got educated.

I am wanting more of that imperfect courage today. That hard-earned discernment holds me back from speaking out. About how dangerous and awful I think MAGA is. How I lie awake at night worrying about ordinary people not just “detained,” but imprisoned. How we are perpetuating trauma, xenophobia, and incivility. How appalled I am that we no longer blink at hearing blatant lies and insults from our government. How we ALL aren’t raging about our democracy so clearly slipping into authoritarianism. How I don’t understand friends and acquaintances for supporting these things, or for being silent. And then I realize, Oh crap, that’s me too.

I want to act more like that younger, braver self. Just go. Instead of being afraid of my uncertain or immature ideas, I want to muster enough heart-truth to speak up anyway. I want to move aside the excuses of wanting to create harmony and inspiration. Times like this, pointing out the true and imperative is more important than optimistic platitudes. If we agree that courage can be a practice and “figuring it out” is a conversation. That showing up might be a perfectly awkward from the heart. Let’s go.

Svadhyaya – self study, inner attunement
Saucha – clarity of mind, speech, and actions
Satya – truthfulness, “as it is”
Brahmacharya – walking in God Consciousness

the speech and debate class

younger me with the local Toastmasters