Delusion: Why I don't believe in heroes.

I had an interview a few months ago with a sales company in Cork. I am pretty good at talking utter nonsense so I figured if I could maintain a consistent flow of bullshit, for fifteen minutes, we’d be golden. The interview unfolded in the usual manner; they asked the questions I wanted them to ask. I gave the answers they wanted to me to give. But, the last question asked, it threw me off. ‘Could you tell me some of your heroes?’ I wasn’t expecting a question of such grandeur. It posed an unconventional depth that I honestly wasn’t expecting from the young man in the suit across from me. He had barely grown hair on his face and looked younger than I. Yet, he assumed the authority to enquire and assess who I was as a person. Here I am, sitting across from the Wolf of Wall Street, contemplating if I’m applying to an entry level sales company or Trinity College. Maybe the interviewer had read my blog and had heard I was a dispenser of wisdom. Whatever the reason, I was perplexed.

 And my answer?  Who was my hero? I said it wasn’t John Lennon, that’s for sure. He might have ‘imagined’ peace, but he still beat women and suffered from an intense God complex. I said it wasn’t Ghandi either. He was a great man, but still held some racial views that don’t even deserve discussion. And certainly, it wasn’t my father. He was a soldier and a man I looked at as a boy with an intense mixture of awe and fear. But he was just a man too. It’s dangerous to idolize men and women.  Let’s not forget that Adolf Hitler was formally hailed as the 1939 Times man of the year! (Prior to his reign of terror, that has left a permanent stain on history) ‘The more I see of men the more I admire dogs.’ 

In spite of this reality, why do we insist upon christening individuals as heroes? Why are certain humans dressed in divine expectation? History has shown time and time again the sequence whereby the public propel certain individuals to divine levels, only before realizing that those individuals weren’t as perfect as they had been perceived.  Yet we continue to insist that one day, we will find it, in someone, if not something. We crave perfection; and failing to find it in ourselves, we seek it out in others. In potential mates, celebrities we adore and Instagram selves. Why we invest our perfect expectations in imperfect people, I know not. Perhaps it is a human instinct to put others on a pedestal?  If it is, I can understand why. Imagine the first time you we’re blown away by a crush. You met a nice guy or a girl and were immediately taken aback by them. Their personality, their appearance and their every being appeared flawless. They were beautifully estranged. In that moment of anonymity, anyone can appear as truly perfect. Some people will avoid ever delving beyond that point of falsity in a relationship, so as to escape disappointment. And ultimately, can you blame them? We all want a hero. It’s comforting to know that there is someone who is seemingly perfect in spite of all our crap. Someone who has the answer, or knows the Way. Mark Twain said we admire in others what we perceive as lacking ourselves. We envy them. We make heroes out of them, regretfully, for their ability to accomplish what we believe we cannot. No doubt, there are inspiring men and women. However, 'if everybody was satisfied with himself, there would be no heroes.' Only more individuals in touch with life, how short it is, and how vital is to make our time here valuable. Our inability to separate imagination from reality and perfection from imperfection has sown a world of false and first impression. 

We don’t need more heroes. More porcelain kings with porcelain crowns. We need more imperfection, more honesty and more of what is raw. If I really was to give an answer about who my hero is; ‘who’ I admire: it’s the parent working 12 hour shifts five or six days a week to give their kids a shot at a life they themselves never had. It’s the young man who is brave enough to admit that he’s struggling. He’s having a hard time dealing with the real world, his confidence is blown and he needs some help. A cup of tea and a chat. I admire the person who’s afraid of failure, but is willing to give it a shot and pursue their passion, despite the conflict within them. The person who decides to silence the doubts and the opinions of others.  The person who says, ‘ I have potential and am going to do my best to awaken it.’ We all have the opportunity to be these people and more. We are born to be fighters, to be contenders. Paul Simon’s Boxer comes about as close to displaying the imperfection of a real hero as is possible. A fighter by trade, he carries the reminder of 

‘every glove that laid him down or cut him ‘till he cried out, in his anger and his shame, I am leaving, I am leaving, but the fighter still remains.’

Real, worked and worn. The boxer has felt adversity from outside and within himself, yet continues to withstand. We can all relate in some way to that. So, rather than throwing all your cards in on those men and women who are as morbidly temporary on this earth as you are, place your trust in yourself. Who you are. Will people understand the path you’re taking?  Maybe not. But as a great friend of mine once said, ‘fuck them’. Atleast you’ll be original. That’s someone I’d admire. Be your own hero.