Now that I've got some films under my belt, I have the courage of

The gifted actress Mira Sorvino, whose art has graced both stage and screen, once spoke these reflective and powerful words: “Now that I’ve got some films under my belt, I have the courage of my convictions regarding acting. It gives me a leg to stand on.” At first glance, her statement seems modest — a personal note about an artist finding confidence through experience. But beneath its surface lies a truth far greater and more universal: that courage, the power to trust one’s own voice and vision, is not born in theory but forged through practice. One gains conviction not from dreaming about action, but from acting itself.

The origin of this wisdom lies in Sorvino’s own journey. Before her acclaim — before her Oscar, before the applause — she was, like every artist, uncertain. Acting, like life itself, demands vulnerability. Each role, each performance, is a leap into the unknown. But with every step she took, with every film completed, her confidence became rooted in experience, not mere aspiration. She discovered what the ancients have always known: that true conviction is the child of endurance. To “have the courage of one’s convictions” is not to speak boldly without cause, but to speak because you have walked the path, stumbled upon its stones, and risen again.

Her phrase, “a leg to stand on,” is symbolic of foundation — the solid ground that experience gives the soul. In youth, or at the beginning of any calling, we walk on shifting sand, uncertain of our worth. But when we persist — through trial, criticism, and doubt — we begin to stand firm. The lessons we learn, the failures we endure, and the victories we taste become the bones of our strength. Mira Sorvino’s courage, then, was not arrogance; it was the quiet assurance that comes when one’s work has been tested by the fire of time. It is the same courage that transforms the apprentice into the master, the novice into the sage.

Consider the story of Leonardo da Vinci. In his early years, he was ridiculed for his slowness, for spending years perfecting a single work. But with every sketch, every experiment, his confidence deepened. He dared to paint with the conviction of one who knew — not because he was certain of success, but because he had studied failure. So too, Mira Sorvino’s words remind us that conviction grows not from perfection, but from persistence. The artist, the thinker, the leader — all are strengthened not by applause, but by the labor that precedes it.

There is a greater lesson here about the nature of courage. Many believe courage to be innate — a spark some possess and others lack. But Sorvino teaches that it is earned through doing. When she says, “Now that I’ve got some films under my belt,” she speaks of the transformation that only action can bring. We do not wait for courage to begin; we begin, and courage is born from the journey. Each effort, each challenge faced, plants a seed of self-belief. In this way, courage and experience dance together — one feeding the other, until the hesitant heart becomes steady and sure.

Yet, we must not forget the humility that lives within her words. Sorvino does not boast of mastery; she speaks of standing. This is no triumphant cry of dominance, but a recognition of progress — the moment when one feels no longer adrift, but grounded. In the ancient world, the philosopher Aristotle taught that virtue is found in balance, between arrogance and fear. To stand firm in one’s convictions, as Sorvino describes, is not to close the mind, but to open it fully — aware of one’s strengths, aware still of one’s growth, yet unafraid to trust the inner voice that guides.

So, let the lesson be clear to all who labor in any craft or calling: do not wait for confidence before you act; act, and confidence will follow. Every effort you make — every risk, every imperfect step — builds your foundation. Do not be disheartened by small beginnings. The oak, mighty and unyielding, once trembled as a seed in the wind. The artist, the teacher, the parent, the dreamer — all must begin with uncertainty. But if they persevere, if they continue to create, learn, and love, they will one day stand as Sorvino stands: with the courage of their convictions, and with the strength of knowing they have lived their truth.

Thus, remember her words as a living teaching: experience is the sculptor of courage. Trust in the process of becoming. Let your failures instruct you, let your victories humble you, and let every effort deepen your faith in yourself. When you have walked long enough upon your chosen path, you too shall find — as Mira Sorvino did — that the ground beneath your feet has become steady, that your heart speaks with conviction, and that your courage has become not borrowed, but your own.