Cake and Courage

One of the major reality shifts I described in my last post — leaving my first marriage — contained a very ordinary moment. Yet, three decades later, I still remember it clearly. So it can’t have been that small.

The marriage involved a considerable amount of money. I needed a property settlement lawyer, so I went into the city. At thirty-three, I didn’t understand what a property settlement was or how it worked. In fact, I had no idea what would happen or what I might be entitled to. For all I knew, I could walk away with nothing. I had two young children to raise, and I wasn’t working outside the home.

I went to the lawyer, and we discussed some initial details, but it was only a first visit. I still didn’t understand what was going to happen. The lawyer’s office was in an elegant building. When the meeting finished, I went downstairs to a cafe. It was the kind of place that feels expensive — and is. I ordered a cup of tea and a piece of cake. An expensive cup of tea. An expensive piece of cake.

I very clearly remember saying to myself: This could be the last cup of tea and the last piece of cake I ever have at a nice cafe for the rest of my life.

It seems rather dramatic and illogical, but we think such things when we don’t know what’s ahead. 

Then just as clearly, another thought came to me: Nevertheless, this is still the right decision. This is still worth it.

The table, the cup, the cake, the hum of the cafe, the classy city building — the whole scene lodged itself in me. When you stand at the edge of the unknown, everything feels heightened. It’s scary, but the scare is part of the adventure. And the adventure brings the change.

Courage doesn’t mean certainty. It doesn’t mean having a safety net, a clear plan, or guarantees about how things will turn out. Courage means acting in alignment with what feels true, even when the future is unclear and uncomfortable.

The tea and cake were a small acknowledgement of what I was choosing. A way of saying to myself: I am willing to pay whatever this costs, because not choosing it would cost me more.

Life doesn’t necessarily tell you whether you will get the cake or the crumbs. But choosing courage means you don’t walk away from the table. It means you will stay present with your life rather than retreating from it.

And that matters more than cake and certainty ever could.

Read more of the Consciousness Series