What Did The Lion Want In Wizard Of Oz

Let’s be honest, we’ve all been the Cowardly Lion at some point. You know the scene: he’s bounding onto the yellow brick road, roaring his heart out, then suddenly a dog barks and he faints. It’s a hilariously literal example of talk being cheap. We all have that friend who talks a big game about quitting their job, only to chicken out when the boss asks for a chat on Monday. The Lion is basically that friend, but with a glorious mane and a terrible case of stage fright.

The simple answer to what the Lion wanted is courage. But if you think about it, he already had it in spades. He was brave enough to admit he was scared, which is more than most of us can manage at a crowded party. He traveled with a complete stranger (Dorothy) and a dangerous tin man, all while fighting off giant spiders and flying monkeys. That’s not cowardice; that’s a Tuesday for most of us.

The Real Fear: Judgment, Not Danger

The Lion’s biggest problem wasn’t a lack of guts. It was a crippling fear of looking foolish. Think about that time you wanted to dance at a wedding but froze because you thought everyone was watching. That’s Lion energy. He could fight a monster, but he couldn’t handle the possibility of tripping over his own tail in front of an audience.

His whole identity was built around the idea that a lion should be fearless. Society told him, “You’re the King of the Jungle, act like it!” and he felt like a fraud every time his voice cracked. Sound familiar? We do this to ourselves all the time. We think we need a badge or a diploma to feel legitimate, when really we just need to stop comparing our behind-the-scenes to everyone else’s highlight reel.

What He Actually Needed: A Pep Talk and a Pat on the Back

When the Wizard finally gives him a medal for “Courage,” it’s not magic. It’s validation. The Lion needed someone to officially say, “Hey, you’re doing great, buddy. Keep going.” It’s the same reason we frame participation trophies or keep old thank-you cards. We just want an external stamp of approval to confirm what we already know deep down.

I once had a boss who gave me a ridiculous “Employee of the Month” plaque for showing up on time for a whole quarter. I knew it was silly, but I hung it on my wall for years. That’s the Lion with his medal. It’s not the object that changes you; it’s the permission to believe in yourself that suddenly clicks. He was brave the whole time; he just needed a receipt.

The Lesson We Keep Ignoring

Here’s the kicker: the Wizard was a total fraud. He was just a regular guy from Omaha hiding behind a curtain. Yet, his phony ceremony gave the Lion exactly what he wanted. It’s a weird paradox. We spend so much time waiting for a perfect, magical solution to our insecurities, but often a simple, human gesture—a friend saying “you got this”—is enough to turn us around.

So, what did the Lion want? Courage? Sure. But more than that, he wanted to stop feeling like a scared kid in a grown-up’s costume. He wanted to be accepted exactly as he was: a mess with a big heart and a shaky roar. That’s a universal desire. We all want someone to look at our trembling hands and say, “You’re still a lion, even when you’re scared.”

The Takeaway for Your Own Yellow Brick Road

Next time you’re avoiding a hard conversation or procrastinating on a big project, ask yourself: “What am I really afraid of?” Chances are, it’s not the outcome. It’s the awkwardness, the potential embarrassment, the feeling of being a fake. Just like the Lion, you already have the skills. You just haven’t given yourself permission to use them.

The truth is, courage isn’t about not being scared. It’s about being scared and still walking toward the witch’s castle. It’s about showing up to the meeting with a quiver in your voice and a plan in your pocket. The Lion’s journey is a reminder that the thing we’re looking for is often already inside us, just buried under a pile of “what ifs” and “I’m not readys.”

So go ahead. Accept your imaginary medal. Take a deep breath. And roar like you mean it, even if it cracks a little. After all, even the King of the Jungle has to start somewhere.