Small Moments, Quiet Courage, and the Higher Self
Have you ever experienced a quiet moment of guidance?
This reflection touches on personal memory, quiet courage, and the deeper instincts that guide us through uncertain times. It isn’t meant as a political statement, but rather an invitation—to consider how we each move in alignment with our values, especially when doing so isn’t easy or safe.
When I was about five or six years old, something quietly miraculous happened—one of those childhood moments that carves an enduring mark on the soul.
My friend had just gotten a Big Wheel. To our young eyes, it was the pinnacle of freedom: bright, plastic, low to the ground, and bursting with the promise of speed. Naturally, I hopped on and pedaled furiously down the sidewalk, the wind roaring in my ears, absolutely certain I was breaking the sound barrier.
Then, out of nowhere, a boat’s trailer hitch appeared—eye-level, sharp-edged, and directly in my path. Time seemed to slow, stretching into those strange elastic moments where instinct takes over. I ducked. Swerved. Somehow missed it completely. And then I was past it—breathless, shaken, but safe.
I was shaken not just by the near-miss itself, but by the anxious thought of how my parents might've reacted had I collided headfirst with that hitch. It was a secret close-call I held quietly inside.
And there was an odd clarity in that moment. I hadn’t consciously decided to swerve. Something deeper, quieter, wiser, seemed to intervene. I wouldn’t have had words for it at the time, but now, decades later, I wonder if that was the first time I glimpsed what some call the Higher Self.
As I’ve grown older, I’ve come to recognize that life is sprinkled with these moments. Slight but significant shifts, where something beyond our everyday awareness seems to step in, course-correct, protect, or guide. Whether we see it as intuition, grace, or something more mysterious, these moments often go unnoticed, yet they shape us profoundly.
It also makes me think about heroism, not the blockbuster kind with capes and chaos, but the quieter, more enduring kind. The kind that emerges when ordinary people act in extraordinary alignment with their deepest values, often with no promise of recognition.
In every generation, there are people who make difficult, often invisible choices to protect others, to stand firm in compassion, to speak when silence would be easier.
They don’t always leave names in history books, but their actions ripple outward in unseen ways. Perhaps their courage was not just their own—but aided, in part, by that same quiet nudge I felt as a child. A whisper from within. A deeper knowing. A Higher Self.
This makes me wonder about the nature of heroism and courage. Not just the cinematic, larger-than-life heroes, but the quiet, everyday ones who acted bravely during some of humanity’s darkest moments. Even in the most challenging moments of history, people have listened to that quiet inner voice—the one that nudges us toward compassion, even in the face of fear. Was their Higher Self whispering encouragement, nudging them towards right action, towards acts of humble heroism?
Charles Darwin himself noted that compassion, or what he called "sympathy," was a critical factor in humanity’s evolutionary success. According to Darwin and later biologists such as Edward O. Wilson, our greatest strength isn't competition or survival of the fittest, but cooperation, empathy, and altruism. It's this deeply ingrained compassion, evolving from small tribes to global societies, that has enabled humans not only to survive but thrive together.
Even now, in times that feel increasingly uncertain, we see this quiet courage appear. Just yesterday, Senator Cory Booker stood for over 25 hours—breaking a long-standing record—not for spectacle, but to speak on behalf of people who often go unheard. Whatever your politics, there’s something undeniably moving about someone willing to push their limits in service of a greater good.
We may be tempted to think that the world’s challenges require only grand gestures or powerful figures. But what if the real turning points happen in the quiet? In the unseen decisions, the personal risks, the uncelebrated stands?
What if the superheroes we grew up admiring are actually metaphors for that Higher Self within each of us—ready to guide, protect, and act through us, if we’re willing to listen?
Maybe real heroism is about tuning into that deeper current, especially when the surface feels chaotic. Maybe it’s not about strength or spectacle, but about alignment, being brave enough to move in the direction of what feels quietly, unmistakably right.
And perhaps that's exactly what the world needs most right now: more people who trust the gentle guidance of their Higher Self, quietly acting from integrity even when no one else is watching.
Have you ever experienced a moment like this—where something deeper seemed to guide you? I’d love to hear your story.