Confidence is something you're born with. I know I had loads of
Confidence is something you're born with. I know I had loads of it even at the age of 15.
In the words of Hedy Lamarr, “Confidence is something you’re born with. I know I had loads of it even at the age of 15.” These words come not from a woman of vanity, but from a spirit who understood the divine spark within her own being. Lamarr, famed actress and brilliant inventor, spoke as one who had walked through fire and found within herself a courage that did not depend on applause or acceptance. Her quote is not a boast—it is a revelation: that confidence is not granted by the world, but drawn from the soul’s ancient well.
In the time of the ancients, confidence was called thumos—the inner flame that drives men and women toward greatness. It is not pride, nor arrogance, but the living pulse of certainty that one’s existence has purpose. The young Lamarr, even at fifteen, felt this force stirring within her, a force unafraid to step into the unknown. She would later defy the narrow confines of Hollywood’s glamour and reveal a mind that dreamed of new worlds—co-inventing the technology that became the foundation for modern Wi-Fi. Such is the nature of true confidence: not loud, but luminous; not self-serving, but self-knowing.
Yet the world confuses confidence with approval. Many wait for permission to believe in themselves, hoping the voices of others will grant them worth. But Hedy’s words call us to remember that confidence is innate, like breath. It is the voice that speaks before fear can silence it. To be born is to already possess it; to live is to remember it. Those who forget this truth wander in doubt, like warriors who have laid down their swords. Those who remember it stand tall even when they are alone.
Consider the tale of Joan of Arc, the peasant girl who, believing she was guided by divine vision, led armies against the might of kingdoms. She was scarcely seventeen—an age when most tremble before authority—yet her conviction struck awe into hardened men. She was mocked, condemned, and burned, yet never wavered. Her confidence did not come from worldly proof, but from the certainty of purpose. Like Lamarr, she trusted the fire placed in her heart from birth. Such confidence is not learned—it is remembered, reawakened, and refined through trial.
But beware, my child, for confidence without humility becomes arrogance, and arrogance blinds the soul. The ancients taught that true strength is quiet, that one should stand firm but never trample. The confident soul does not shout to be heard; it acts with calm conviction. Hedy Lamarr’s brilliance lay not in seeking fame, but in pursuing truth—she saw beyond her beauty and into the realm of ideas. Thus, her confidence was a vessel for creation, not domination.
The lesson is clear: you were born with all that you need. The world may try to convince you that confidence must be earned, bought, or displayed, but it is already within you—sleeping, waiting for your call. When you doubt, do not look outward for validation; turn inward, where your first breath still echoes. There, in the stillness, you will find the certainty that you are capable, worthy, and unafraid.
So, walk boldly, yet gently. Speak with conviction, yet listen with grace. Nurture your inner confidence as a sacred flame: feed it with courage, guard it from pride, and use it to light the path for others. Remember, the greatest acts of creation, invention, and love are born from those who dare to trust the strength within them. You are one of them. Be as Lamarr was—undaunted, radiant, and forever sure that the light within is not learned, but eternal.
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