This year, I just want to be a coward
Spoilers for the latest episode of Station Eleven, but not enough to ruin it for you
I’m recapping the show Station Eleven over at AV Club. I highly recommend it. The book was originally very loving and optimistic about the future, and I’m happy to report the show is too.
I’ve been finding it hard to find optimism lately. I feel like I just find anger, fear, and despair, especially when I look on social media. I understand those emotions but I can’t live in that state all the time. I’ve been wanting to let go of my hyper vigilance a lot – it’s been around since 2016 and I can’t take it anymore.
I feel like even though there’s a lot to worry about, being stuck in a worried, stressed state can do more harm than good. I think I’m mostly just happy to be around this year. I think we should all get credit for surviving. I bet we’ve all thrived in little ways too.
One thing I’ve been thinking a lot about is how my values have really, let’s see. They’ve really become stronger, steelier, heartier. Emphasis on heart, I guess.
But also, I’ve learned a lot about how my past judgments and ideas about the world were based in perfectionism and anxiety. I’ve talked about cowards before in this newsletter, but in the latest episode of Station Eleven there’s one character that’s a coward in the latest episode, and I just plain love him for it:
Ah, and then we get to my favorite, favorite episode of this series, and the one I’ve patiently been waiting for: “Dr. Chaudhary.” In the book, Jeevan is important in the beginning and a footnote in the ending; but the structure of the show lets Jeevan be his own, totally new character. He’s a coward, plain and simple, not unlike Dev Patel’s character in The Green Knight. While both Patels—Himesh and Dev—have luxurious hair and British Indian origins, it’s the fidgety, awkward, and ultimately, really funny way they shrink back from responsibility that really gets me.
I used to hate the idea of cowardice because I saw it as the worst flaw someone could have – the exact opposite of me. As if their cowardice cheapened my bravery, in a way. I work really hard to push myself to try new things and struggle, but if people are out there being cowards about things and still succeeding, then it’s like…maybe I don’t have to work so hard to push myself. But if I believe that, then how will I push myself?
During the first year of the pandemic, when I was in my apartment by myself, I pushed myself. Hard. I cooked as much as I could, I cleaned nonstop (for no visitors!), I forced myself to paint more, I forced myself to paint people and ideas and hands, all terrifically hard things to paint. (The color mixing alone!) I pushed and pushed and pushed myself because it felt like the only thing I had control over.
And now…I’m exhausted. I’m so tired. But more than that, I’m ready to rest. What I didn’t realize while I was pushing myself was that no one needs to force themselves into so many uncomfortable situations all the time.
I realized this when I was reading cartooning books by Ivan Brunetti and Lynda Barry. Brunetti’s Cartooning in particular talks about needing to follow his course to the letter, but I realized that I’ve actually done some of his exercises when trying to teach myself to draw and paint. Part of the joy of reading his book is realizing I need to give myself more credit for what I already know. And being home for the holidays, I realized I’ve been scribbling comics in my sketchbooks for as far back as ten years, and I’ve been reading comic books for even longer. Why do I act like I don’t know anything?
And Lynda Barry, in an interview about her book Making Comics, pointed something else out:
One of the things I love to have in my class is a really good mixture of those people, people who will feel very comfortable drawing and people who are just nearly crying the whole time. They’re so physically freaked out by making a mark. I mean, it’s a full-body freakout. Which is interesting, right? All you’re doing is wiggling a pen on an index card, but it’s almost like a bodily fluid just suddenly escaped out of your control.
This surprised me. It never occurred to me that my fear was something other people experienced. I always felt that my fear of drawing – that which kept me from posting my paintings or sketches anywhere for people to see – was a particular failure of mine. Other people could put marks on the page, but I was the only one who felt dizzy and ill, or started crying out of fear. But when I PUSHED myself, I could get there! I just needed to PUSH MYSELF!!!!
Yeah, I’m not doing that anymore.
Sure, I’ll try new things. I just bought a Wacom tablet to figure out how to learn Photoshop and Illustrator, and I’m playing around with making gifs on Procreate. But this year, I’m loosening the grip. Literally — I find that my best sketches come when I let the pen do more of the talking — when I let an image run loose and strange and take me where I need to go, rather than vice versa.
Maybe one thing I can learn from cowards is that looseness. When I let up on myself about what I should like or should act, I realize I love cowards. I’ve collected a few characters who are cowards in novels, movies, and TV:
Rincewind in the Discworld series by Terry Pratchett (the books)
Edward Ferrars in Sense and Sensibility by Jane Austen (the book)
Howl from Howl’s Moving Castle (the movie, I haven’t read the book)
Jeevan from Station Eleven (the show, but not the book)
Sir Gawain from The Green Knight (the movie, but not the original tale as far as I remember)
(Feel free to email me anyone else you can think would be on this list.)
Rincewind is happy to stay a coward, and constantly runs from adventure – which ends up finding him anyway. (I read Discworld most in middle school and I’m a little embarrassed to say that I had a huge crush on this character.) Howl hides from his responsibilities, or at least hides enough to do the least amount. And Jeevan (we find out) is called “Leavin’ Jeevan” in the pre-pandemic world. And finally, Gawain is constantly running from his own destiny.
With Edward Ferrars I always return to this essay. As Mary Watson writes,
In Edward, Austen conceives a man both of sense and of sensibility, whose diffidence prevents him from the proper exertion of these qualities. His improvement in the novel, therefore, consists in the development of confidence, enabling him to act in a way that balances his innate sense and sensibility.
I’ve seen Edward described as the worst of the Austen heroines, but he has a special place in my heart because of his cowardice. It’s easier for Darcy to be brave — he has gobs of money and beloved among his family. It’s harder when your family is constantly telling you what to do but also that you’re not that great anyway.
What do these characters all have in common? Their emotions are on the surface. They are terrible liars. (Think of how Gawain simply says nothing when his girlfriend suggests he make her a lady. He can’t lie to her, but he also won’t soothe her with false promises.) Cowardice requires an honesty of emotion – everyone is scared in some way or another, cowards are the only ones brave enough to admit it. They refuse the call, and they’re committed to being true neutral in the moral alignment chart. They always run away – before they come back. They need help, and they only grow confident when they can rely on others to have their back. What I also like about these stories is that they all try to be there for other people, despite their own fears. Cowards can thrive when they are part of a community. They can be brave for other people, when needed – just like Edward is for Elinor; Jeevan is for Kirsten; Gawain tries to be for the knight he stays with; Rincewind for literally anyone; Howl for Sophia.
This year, I’m giving myself permission to be a coward. To be afraid, to admit I don’t know everything, to be imperfect. But most of all to rely on others for help, advice, and bravery. I think I’ve finally realized that to be independent is to be incomplete.
Courage the cowardly dog is absolutely my favorite coward!!