The Art of Courage: Practices for Clinicians and Creatives
The cave doesn’t surrender its map at the entrance. Step by step, the lantern reveals what lies ahead. Courage is walking anyway, trusting that the path will continue to appear ahead, in the circle of light.
Change is courageous. Courage is required to step toward risk and acknowledge what must be named and voiced. For those of us whose work is steeped in emotion and pain—therapists, physicians, nurses, social workers, healers, and artists—courage is not foreign. Courage is necessary because it serves as a threshold to transformation.
The Terrain We Walk
Every day, healthcare providers witness stories of fracture, loss, and yearning. Our work can be draining. As a result, our inner lives often remain locked away. Fear of exposure, fear of fragility, and fear of judgment linger at the edges of healing.
Even so, creativity beckons us. Reaching for metaphor, bending toward image, and giving voice to what trembles inside of us are acts of witnessing. Creativity is a path to make the unseen visible and give voice to what has remained silent. These acts demand courage and offer a sense of hope.
As burnout among healthcare professionals intensifies, creative arts therapies are gaining traction. Increasingly, creative arts therapies are viewed as clinically meaningful and worth the investment. The Colorado Resiliency Arts Lab (CORAL) reported that healthcare professionals who engaged in weekly art, music, movement, or writing reported reductions in anxiety and depression with benefits lasting months later. Other studies suggest that visual arts interventions mitigate emotional exhaustion and occupational distress among clinicians. These studies matter, but so does the participants' lived experience of showing up, breathing, and being vulnerable in a shared space. That experience is its own medicine, and a courageous act of courage and self-care.
Where Courage and Creativity Meet: Paradox and Permission
Paradox can be a portal. Courage is not the absence of fear. It thrives in the tension between desire and the unknown. Humans expand and contract, like the breath cycle. Most journeys have steps forward and backward. Expansion and contraction coexist, and this teaches us a valuable lesson.
Permission can spark change. In clinical training, we learn to identify, diagnose, heal, and protect. When we turn these tools inward through writing, drawing, or song, we need clear permission to be messy and uncertain. We must allow ourselves to make mistakes and move freely in the chaos. When we befriend the unknown, our true voice can emerge.
Witnessing parts of ourselves and others is a radical act of compassion. The bravest acts often allow us to be seen—not for pity, but for connection. When we let ourselves be witnessed, we invite others to do the same. They may find themselves in our reflection. The energy in a room changes when one person speaks the truth that others have been hiding.
Micro-Thresholds to cross for meaningful change
These are doorways, not prescriptions. Choose one to start, and lean in. Remember, you are braver than you think, and courage is contagious!
Flicker sentence. Write one sentence that feels difficult to express—one that you have never shared. Say it aloud to a mirror or a trusted peer. If that feels too edgy for your system, try writing it down on a piece of paper instead, and slowly work up to speaking it aloud.
Shadow of fear mapping. Sketch the outline of your fear without worrying about beauty. Let the edges breathe, shift, and blur. Transform fear into an abstract form that doesn't have to make sense. Write words in the middle of the drawing that name your fear, or choose words that give you courage.
Tremor sharing. In a peer group or writing circle, read a brief fragment of your private writing. Take turns sharing, inviting silence to follow each share, to allow for pure witnessing.
Ritual offering. Pick a hard word from your day and write it on a small card. Place the card in a box or envelope to revisit later. You can also have a fire ceremony and burn the papers with words that have been hard for you to hold.
These practices help you cross small thresholds and build courage in your body’s memory.
Over Time: Tend the Hearth, Not the Blaze
Courage does not arrive with fanfare. Most days, it is small: a boundary kept, a risk reviewed, another step. Courage needs different things at different times—exposure, protection, or rest. Part of the work is knowing what is needed in each moment.
As your courage grows, you may publish, teach, or simply maintain your private notebook. Each is a valid way to engage and reflects your journey.
A life of bravery and courage is built with intention and practice. Step by step, take care of yourself, trust your voice, and honor your journey.
Embrace your creativity and respect the process!
by Dr. Amy Vail and Alli Fischenich