Take Courage

March 15, 2016 by Ray Morgan

Take Courage

When I lived in London, I used to catch a bus that went past a building with one of those brilliant messages from the past on the side; you know the ones, with old bread adverts, or great typography telling you that sewing machines were once sold there. This particular one was for a brewery, Courage Brewery, and it said in huge, person-tall lettering: TAKE COURAGE.

I always used to pass it, and think what a great message it was for life, even though in real terms, it was encouraging people to drink beer (also a great message, I'm not going to lie).

People have different interpretations of what courage means. As someone who used to be quite shy, courage is something I've learned. It's easy to stay in your comfort zone, so a good dose of ballsy courage is a good way to shake things up. Example: I went to a secondary school 10 minutes from my house that had a sixth form college attached to it. I knew everyone there, and hell, even my sister and mum had been there before me. It was an easy route to take. But I didn't like school all that much, and a sixth form college a 20 minute bus ride away had better subjects, and looked like an adventure, even though I hardly knew anyone there. So I decided to up and leave school and go to the college. Me! A shy person scared of most things! Yes, I made my sister get the bus with me on my first day, but after that I was off and away, having an adventure, making new friends and being - for me, brave.

It doesn't sound all that brave, does it? But at 17, for me, it was. It took courage to make that step and I'm so glad I did. It paved the way for my adult life, and for that I am forever grateful. In a Sliding Doors way, I wonder how my life may have been different if I'd stayed at school for those two years. Would I have gone to a different university? Would I have ever met my partner? Would I be doing the job I'm in now and love? It all could have been quite different.

Courage is something I've seen friends and loved ones handle deftly. Friends who have been through, or are going through, cancer with grace and poise. Friends who have brought up children on their own as single parents, children who are beautiful, well-rounded human beings who I love looking after. Friends who have taken the plunge and started their own businesses to great success. What big, courageous things to do - some their own choice, some the hand that life has dealt them.

On Saturday night my best friend Chris held a charity gig in memory of his Mum, who sadly died last year from cancer. It was one of those electric, special nights. 150 people crammed into the big hall in Leigh Community Centre and bands played, and my partner and I performed some spoken word. My friend got up on that stage, dedicating the night to his Mum, did covers of her favourite songs on his guitar, and we celebrated her life while raising money for the hospice who looked after her so brilliantly. For him to stand up there and talk about his Mum and put on such a show in her honour, now that's courage to me. He was brave and confident where others may have shied away, and it made me immensely proud.

It's funny though. His sister came up to me at the end and said how brave I was to stand up in front of all those people and read out my poems. I hadn't given it much thought; I'd been asked to perform and I wanted to do everybody proud. Yes, I'd been nervous beforehand, but I thought about how if my friend had done all that, I couldn't be too nervous myself. But I suppose to someone else, me getting up on stage took courage too.

Sometimes it's good to get a bit scared, but be bold and go for it. Given the subject of Saturday night, it makes you think that you don't know how long you've got. We are only here for a short time, so make the most of it. Take courage. You never know where it will take you.

For anyone who couldn't make it to the gig on Saturday, you can donate on the Just Giving page: http://www.justgiving.com/pet-sounds-concert - all money raised will be going to St Luke's Hospice.