I spent a lot of years trying to outrun or outsmart vulnerability

"I spent a lot of years trying to outrun or outsmart vulnerability by making things certain and definite, black and white, good and bad. My inability to lean into the discomfort of vulnerability limited the fullness of those important experiences that are wrought with uncertainty: Love, belonging, trust, joy, and creativity to name a few." — thus speaks Brené Brown, the wise seeker of the human heart. Her words are not mere confession, but a mirror held before all who walk the earth. For in every soul there lies a hidden struggle — the battle between control and vulnerability, between the desire for certainty and the courage to live in the unknown. These words remind us that to be human is to be unfinished, to tremble and to love anyway.

In the days of old, the philosophers taught that courage is not the absence of fear but the mastery of it. Yet modern man, clothed in armor of certainty, believes he can outwit the storm. He builds his walls of logic and perfection, declaring, “I will not be hurt again.” But the truth — ancient as the stars — is that to close oneself to pain is to close oneself to life. The one who flees vulnerability becomes safe, yes, but also hollow; for it is through the trembling heart that love, trust, and joy are born.

Think of the artist Vincent van Gogh, whose life was marked by agony and beauty in equal measure. His soul burned with visions that others could not see. He did not paint with the hand of certainty but with the trembling brush of one who exposed his very being to the world. Every stroke was an act of vulnerability, every canvas a confession of hope amid despair. Though the world misunderstood him, his openness to the unknown gave birth to immortal art — a reminder that creativity is not born of control, but of surrender.

Brené Brown, like the mystics before her, teaches that uncertainty is not our enemy — it is our teacher. In her own words, she admits that the years spent chasing the comfort of “black and white” robbed her of life’s richest hues. How many of us have done the same? We demand guarantees in love before we dare to give it. We seek approval before we speak our truth. We hide our weakness, fearing rejection. But the heart that never risks breaking never truly learns to belong. The joy that never trembles with fear is but an echo of the real thing.

There is a story of King David, who, though mighty in battle, was never more human than when he wept before his people. In his psalms, he cried out to the heavens with raw emotion — not as a king, but as a man. His vulnerability became his strength, for it opened the way to trust and connection with both God and humankind. Thus we learn that it is not the iron heart that leads, but the heart that dares to feel.

To lean into vulnerability is to embrace the sacred uncertainty of life. It is to say, “I will love, though I may be hurt. I will create, though I may fail. I will trust, though I have been betrayed.” This is the courage of the open soul. It is not the path of the faint-hearted, but of those who know that beauty and pain are woven from the same thread. The ancients called this the “noble path” — the way of those who live fully, not perfectly.

Let this then be the lesson to those who listen: Do not flee from the trembling within you. When fear rises, do not build walls of certainty, but open your hands. Speak the truth you are afraid to speak. Love the one you fear will not love you back. Begin the work that might fail. These acts of vulnerability are the fires that forge the soul. For in risking your heart, you gain not safety, but freedom — the freedom to live with depth, to feel with fullness, to create with divine power.

And when you falter, remember this: the gods themselves do not promise certainty. They offer only the chance to live bravely. So walk the path of uncertainty with courage. Embrace vulnerability as your companion, not your foe. For in the trembling of the heart lies the doorway to all that is sacred — to love, to joy, to belonging, and to the radiant wholeness of being alive.