I am Zachariah

We are all Kings...

This is an email I wrote last year. Wish I had followed my own advice...

""
I've been doing quite a bit of thinking and self-reflection lately,
what with all my childhood friends reunited in the town of my youth,
as-well as a fascinating conversation with my parents about the
Archetypal Heroic Figure (sparked by racism in The Lord of the Rings.)
Today I received some very kind words from a friend of the family,
saying how nice of a person that I was; later my parents expressed
their gratitude and relief that I was such a pacifistic, "enlightened"
individual (my father placing me high on the Pyramid of Understanding
-- ask for details.) These are all very nice compliments, heartfelt
and sweet, but I did not want to allow myself to appreciate them. i've
known for some time now that I am smart, and much longer that I am
nice, but perpetually I have attempted to undermine and sabotage these
characteristics. Since I began my "education" I've been chronically
late in meeting all my deadlines (in grade three, Dad defined the word
"procrastination" for me and gave power and substance to a previously
abstract quality in my mind.) I think I've always tried to be nice,
but I can think of thousands upon thousands of instance where I've
deliberately not done the right thing (indeed my procrastination was
probably one of the cruelest things I could do to my parents.) But the
question remains: Why? Why destroy myself? And - this shouldn't
surprise you that it must go along, hand in hand - Why my fascination
my Superman, the ultimate Archetypal Heroic Figure?

Superman is guy who is as smart as he can be, as understanding as he
can be, as kind as he can be. He has devoted his entire life, his
entire being to an alien planet (Earth, if you don't know,) and always
always does the right thing. He fictionally, of course, died saving us
and would so again. He is the perfect man, the perfect father figure,
the ultimate protector -- i'm loosing the point. He's the best he can
be. Jesus was the best he could've been. Both martyrs. Both had to
deal with being heroes in their own time. Both had enormous
expectations put on them. (Superman will save us! Jesus is the answer
to Evil!) Expectations that no man or woman should bear, but both did.
They could have been destroyed by these expectations, but, being of
the caliber they were, were not.

Back to me. School was not hard. I was tested as being gifted in
grade 8, and easily could have received honours before and after that
(not to belittle those who invested so much effort to reach those goals
and did - I applaud you.) Gifted. I was supposed to be smart. A
good student. I was, I really was, and I know that a lot of people
won't believe me. I was expected to come home with good marks,
although my parents were by no means slave-drivers, nor did they at any
time make feel obligated to be a good student. I simply knew that I
had a responsibility, an obligation to myself to be a good student
(certainly my parents and those around me wanted me to succeed, but
those were always self-less wishes on their parts.) I expected it of
myself. The easiest way for an easily smart kid to get bad marks was
to not finish the assignment, and I repeatedly and deliberately
sabotaged myself to attain this low goal ( I remember hiding my binder
in a closet, having hyperventilating, breath-holding fits to get out of
doing my homework). Eventually my marks were so low that people were
pleased with passing marks, and expectations for me shifted down. When
I started working, after I had established a certain level of job
security, I started being late fairly regularly. This created the
expectation of lateness, and so I was rarely fully chastised for my
tardiness. I could also go into some details about how this applies to
my romantic life, but

So I know I"m smart, I know I'm a decent human being and I don't want
anyone else to know. Why? I don't want it to be expected of me? No.
I don't want to deal with the disappointment of others or my own should
I ever fail. Try -- really try -- and not succeed - this is my fear.
(This is directly related to, not only my academic life, but also my
romantic one.) I realized I was above average and forced myself to be
below. This is why I resent stupid, ignorant people -- there may even
be some reading this right now -- because their inferiority thrusts me
into a position of superiority. (This is why I'm a "fascist")Their
lack of ability highlights my abundance. If they weren't some dumb, I
wouldn't feel so bad about being smart, and wouldn't have forced
mediocrity upon myself. But no. Don't transfer the blame. You can't.
It rests solely on my shoulders. I felt shame at having something
someone else did not, and sought to remove that something from myself
-- this is the definition of the Reluctant Hero.

The thing about the Reluctant Hero is that he can't remain reluctant
for long. He either braves the transformation into the Archetypal
Heroic Figure or he dies, a sad, deplorable sagging death, alone at the
end of everything. So now I ask myself: is this my fate? (What's the
Shakespeare line: something something shapes our ends, rough hew them
how we will? Somethings are beyond our control, many are not.) Do I
want to die? Or

Maybe I'm just too hyped up on a childish movie adapted from a
childish novel, but I see the Heroic Journey (this is a valid literary
concept, if you're skeptical) in my own life, as well as all of yours
-- I have for some time, but always considered it as a literary tool
and nothing more. I'd go so far as quietly ridicule myself when I've
considered applying the doctrines of the superhero to my real life.
But then -- tonight to be precise -- I realized that we all have a
choice to make at some point; we can either take the easy way or the
hard, and my entire life I've taken the easy way for everything. The
way of the Reluctant Hero. The hard way is to understand that you are
to be King, for better or for worse, and that you have the duty and
obligation to wear the crown. I am sick of being soft, though I shall
remain gentle. I'm sick of fake failure, though now I relish the
opportunity to be proven wrong. I'm sick of defeat. I accept my
obligations. Hesitantly. It's taken twenty years. We are all
destined to royalty.
I read not too long ago "What's the point of learning something if it
doesn't change your life? What have you really learnt?"

I am by no means perfect. By no means brilliant. I have much to
learn, much to live. But I'm ready for it. I hated self imposed
ignorance and impotence, and saw those qualities in myself. Know
yourself, goes the Latin saying. Love yourself. Revel in your
brilliance. The smarter the stronger nicer funnier wittier you want to
be, you will become. Leave nothing to chance, but now the chance will
not leave you alone. We are all good. We can be better.



Until the world currency bears my face,
I remain,
Zachariah Robert Forrester

P.S. Tell me what you think. Pass it on.

posted by Zach Forrester @ 7:31 PM