A great part of courage is the courage of having done the thing

“A great part of courage is the courage of having done the thing before.” So spoke Ralph Waldo Emerson, the sage of Concord, whose words, like quiet lightning, pierce through the illusions of fear and human frailty. In this saying, he unveils a truth both subtle and immense: that true courage is not born from reckless daring, but from the memory of mastery—the calm assurance that comes from having faced the storm once before and lived to tell its tale. For every act of courage springs from the seed of experience, from the remembrance that one has endured, and therefore, can endure again.

Emerson, philosopher of the spirit and champion of self-reliance, saw courage not as a momentary flare of valor, but as a discipline of the soul. He knew that fear shrinks in the light of familiarity, and that the mind, once awakened to its own strength, need not tremble before the same shadows twice. To have “done the thing before” is to possess not only memory, but proof — proof that the human heart can withstand, that the will can act, and that the world can be moved by persistence. Thus, courage is less the gift of heroes than the inheritance of the steadfast.

Consider the tale of Alexander the Great on the eve of the Battle of Gaugamela. Facing an army vast beyond counting, his soldiers wavered. Yet Alexander, recalling the victory at Issus, stood fearless before them. “You have done this before,” he reminded his men. “Once more, and we shall be masters of the world.” In that moment, courage did not spring from boast or bluster, but from the remembrance of triumph. The soldiers, recalling their own strength proven in blood and dust, found their fear dissolve. And so they marched, not with ignorance of danger, but with faith in their endurance — and conquered. Experience became the wellspring of courage.

Emerson’s wisdom speaks to every mortal struggle. The first trial is always the hardest — for in the unknown, the imagination paints its darkest horrors. Yet once the heart has endured its first battle, its first heartbreak, its first failure, it carries within itself a new kind of armor: the courage of having done it before. The second storm, though no less fierce, meets a steadier sailor. The trembling hand of the beginner becomes the sure grasp of the seasoned. Thus, through repetition and resolve, fear itself becomes a teacher, forging within us the calm strength of familiarity.

There is no courage without memory. The mother who endures childbirth finds strength for the second through remembrance. The soldier who has stood under fire once learns to breathe through the roar. The artist who faced rejection yet creates again has learned that pain is not the end, but the crucible of greatness. Emerson teaches that habit in bravery breeds power — that to live courageously, one must keep acting, keep daring, until fear itself becomes routine. For courage is not the absence of fear, but the mastery of it through repetition and remembrance.

Let every soul then take this as a sacred counsel: do not flee the first trial, for it is the teacher of all others. Do the hard thing once — and you will discover that the next time, your heart does not tremble so much, your mind does not doubt so fiercely. Each act of courage lays a foundation beneath your feet. You become unshaken, not because the world is gentler, but because you have grown stronger. Experience, when faced with gratitude and reflection, becomes the great ally of the brave.

So, my children of the future, take heed. When you stand before your fears — the exam, the battle, the heartbreak, the unknown — remember that the first victory is the hardest, but each one after grows lighter. Do the thing, and you will find that courage begins not in some distant hero’s heart, but in your own, where memory and endurance become one. Walk the path once, and it becomes familiar; walk it again, and it becomes yours. This is the legacy of Emerson’s wisdom: that courage is not a lightning strike, but a sunrise — steady, brightening, and ever more radiant with every dawn you dare to face.