Heroes R Us

Been thinking about superheroes and justice and why even grownups seem to need both. Can’t say I’ve come to a definitive conclusion, but I’m increasingly convinced of an old hypothesis of mine… that somewhere in our makeup is the need for justice and balance in life.

It’s why I didn’t become a “real” lawyer, you know. Because my view of justice is so darned idealized that no legal system in the world would satisfy me. I could just see myself leaping over the judge’s desk, going after his or her throat after yet another moronic decision not to grant a protective order, or some such thing.

It’s come up recently because of the 23-year-old newlywed who was stalked and killed by an old (old enough to be her grandfather) customer just a few days after a judge postponed the decision on whether to grant her request for a protective order. I'm not blaming the judge and, yes, I know the protective order can only do so much; it’s just the whole idea that pushes me over the edge. Did I mention I have a 23-year-old daughter myself? So this one hit home….

But back to the justice thing… I’m also starting to believe that the reason we are drawn to fictional superheroes is because being a hero is also part of our makeup. Not only is it something we want to be – it’s something we are capable of. Okay, maybe we can’t leap over tall buildings in a single bound, but we can each be a hero to SOMEBODY. The thing is, in order to really help others we have to wrap up our personal pity party. You know the one… where we go over and over everything that’s ever gone wrong, every injury we’ve ever suffered, every time we’ve ever failed. What? You’re gonna tell me I’m the only one? Didn’t think so.

Because I’ve been through certain disasters (large and small), and because I’ve bothered to do the hard work of learning and healing and letting go, I can now bring at least a little hope to others in the middle of their own catastrophes. Sometimes I can even do more than that. I doubt I’ll ever be a bona fide hero, the kind that gets their face on the news and children named after them. And I really don’t care about that.

Here’s what I do care about: when I was about 12, I decided that my life would only have been worthwhile if the world were somehow different due to my existence; at least a little bit different for at least one other person. It was all about justice, you see… I realized even then that over the course of my life I would be consuming a tremendous amount of natural resources and going through a whole lot of pain. It only seemed fair to give back to the world and to turn the pain into something useful.

And then I got older and realized it wasn’t all about me. There’s a funny story that defines an optimist as someone who can look at a pile of manure under the Christmas tree and happily squeal, “With all this poop, there’s got to be a pony in here somewhere!” I see people all the time who are still trapped beneath a pile of life’s manure. Each time, I think, “Having been through all this, there’s got to be a hero in here somewhere!”

Here’s to the hero in you, who recycles the bad cards that have been dealt to you into life and healing and hope for yourself and others. Cheers!

Failing to Love

Blew it already.

So we’re barely into February and I’ve already blown my New Year’s resolution. It’s okay, I just gotta get back on that horse now…

I’ve been thinking lately about failure. Maybe because the concept is mentioned in every other magazine article I see. But it is a legitimate subject for those interested in the development of their character. How do you react to failure – your own or someone else’s? And how do I?

“Resistance is futile” say the Borg in Star Trek land. Actually, we surely should resist failure until it happens. But once it has happened, what’s the point of fretting over it? This from someone who has spent a good chunk of her life kicking herself around the block several times whenever one of her endeavors is less than a total, unqualified success. And yet, I’m learning that failure at least proves I don’t spend my life sitting on my rear, avoiding risk. Guess that’s a good thing, right?

But my character is still somewhat underdeveloped when it comes to handling the failures of others. Let’s try that again. It’s not their failures that bother me, it’s when they feel sorry for themselves afterward and I’m expected to cheer them up. “What? First you fail to help me and now I have to work to cheer you up? Really?”

When, oh when, will I be a more loving person? When will others be able to fail me AND to feel sorry for themselves and still count on receiving my forgiveness and grace and love?

So here I fail, and must resist the urge to feel sorry for myself in the midst of this love-failure. Maybe I need to make another resolution… to resolve (again) to love bigger and better. As for you, if I have failed to love you in your times of failure, please forgive me. Let us both risk again.