The myth of heroism or courage

We romanticize heroism. It’s in pretty much every story there has ever been.

When someone dies we stick a ‘heroism’ narrative onto their story. We tell people that person was great and their strength in the end was ‘impressive’ and ‘inspiring’

The more I hear this stuff the more I realize It’s empty.

Not only does it hold up an image that no one can live up to.
But It’s not even true. No one chooses to be ‘heroic’

I mean think about it! If a child has loads of surgeries what do they get told over and over? “Aw you’re so brave! I don’t think I could have done that!” Yes you fucking could.

And I’ll tell you why, because you have no choice in the matter. It’s not heroism. It’s lack of choice.

Do you think when I was a kid I was stoically sat there like, “Oh it’s just another heart surgery, but I can make it. I’m tough stuff me!” No! I didn’t have a choice. Things were just done.

Heroism is the biggest myth we’ve told ourselves.

Many people have turned away from old myths about gods and the like.

But no one it seems, is able to, is ready to, leave their hero myths behind.

Even as I say that, I find it hard to detach myself from the idea of heroism. I can think of characters in stories that I’ve admired and still can’t help but cling to an admiration of. Certain people come to mind. And it’s hard to let go and say, “Actually this heroism stuff is bullshit.”

I get it. It *feels* inspiring, at least in the moment.
But it’s an empty myth. We repeat ad nauseam. But we’re also trapped into it.

I don’t think a story can exist and be interesting without some heroic element involved.


Can we ever move beyond heroism?

And as a paradox, could the bravest most heroic thing we ever do be to move on from heroism myths?

All these thoughts

All these thoughts swim
Till they run
Merging and
Words become undone
Falling away
Somewhere hidden
The thoughts gone
But the feelings remain
Without a name

And then a new thought
Falls into view
Only to fall away
Before you really knew
And the feeling grows
But the words, you do not know

And you wonder
Something
Somewhere
The letters of the thoughts
R
u
n
n
i
n
g
.
.
.
.

The lady in the black

Still… I sit
Against the wind

And I wish I could
Sit against it all
Water off a ducks back

Withstand every fall
Without falling to the black

But the whispers of the dark
Always beckon me back

And I know her well
So I’m always one word away
From being under her spell

I’ve tried meditation
All the fucking medication
Tried to find my philosophy

But I always come back
To the lady in the black

A blade on the skin
Feels better than the happiness
That never seems to sink in
Or the confidence
That never existed from within

Shedding skin
Till I’m nothing
It’s the only thing
That I find comforting
When the lady in black
Finds me running back



Bull in a china shop

I’ll let the bull out of his cage
But you won’t like what’s been contained
All this time pacing between this space
And the time that’s accumulated all this rage
Little bombs waiting to be engaged
Trying to be a better man
Wearing the face of calm
A monstrosity
Contorting inside
With years of screams
Creasing the faces
Pulling lips open by the seams
When am I gonna learn
That keeping bulls in cages
Makes it worse

And like a porcelain doll
I am broken….


I am done.

A story of sheep.

Once upon a time, there was a herd of sheep.

And that herd of sheep walked over to the fence of another herd of sheep.

And the sheep that had walked over to the other herd said, ‘Bahhh!’ in a mocking tone and then said, ‘you fuckin’ sheep!’
And they continued to ‘bah’ in mocking tones.

All the sheep in the herd that was mocking the other said the exact same things.
They sounded the same because they were the same.

They accused all the other sheep of fear-mongering about a virus all while spreading fear of the ‘commies’ and Bill Gates and the ‘new world order’

And the vaccine will be worse than the virus, don’t you know?
Unless of course, the whole thing is a hoax.

And masks can you make you ill, depleting your oxygen levels.
But they also don’t work to help contain the spread of a virus.

And the other herd said some of the same things as each other too but that was because facts don’t change no matter who bah’s them.

The herd that mocked don’t know they’re sheep. Which makes them the winners at being the biggest, bestest sheep!