When Pierce Brosnan stepped down as James Bond, the females and the gays mourned the death of the idea of a faultless and glossy playboy with a handgun. Then came the steely-eyed Daniel Craig, who looked more like Vladimir Putin than Agent 007. That is until the cameras started rolling.
In the Bond prequels, Daniel Craig plays a complex and vulnerable hero. He makes mistakes, he hesitates on taking risks, he does not look like Barbie’s Ken, doesn’t sleep with all the women he meets and he actually does care about people. A weeping Bond may have been a scandal to those who have followed the 007 movie series, but in Craig’s singular performance (whose Bond is the most faithful to the original Bond in the Ian Flemming novels), James Bond evolves from being a caricature of a spy/playboy to an everyday hero.
We live in a world that has become more complicated than ever. In my 20s, when I was at my most fragile, I didn’t cry over anything. A missed deadline, a frenemy in action or a heartbreaking separation from a lover — all met with glazed eyes and a tight jaw. I felt the lack of emotion made me stronger. I said to myself over and over again, “You never control the actions of others but you can control your reaction.” This was my way of understanding strength.
However, the older I got, I suddenly started letting go. Was it the death of a best friend? Was it finally recognizing toxic patterns in my relationships? Was it because I was a control freak? Was I only comfortable in the stiff embrace of perfectionism? Suddenly I stopped thinking about being strong. Instead I just focused on gaining strength.
How you share your vulnerability is equally as challenging as accepting it. It’s like running. It hurts at first, but once you fire up the muscles in your body — you simply glide.
There is a stark difference between airing your dirty laundry to a broad and detached audience such as your Twitter feeds or status updates on Facebook and recognizing pain in the brutal natural light of reality. Allowing others to help you is very different from getting people to listen and form their own opinions regarding unfortunate events in your life such as getting fired or untangling a family squabble.
More than ever we need to connect with other people. How we connect with them is equally as important. We are in an age where aspiration is irrelevant. We want to connect with our leaders, we don’t want to be them. The days of idolatry are over. The glare of a 30-minute iPhone session erases perhaps five opportunities to interact with a human being. We’re so disconnected but wired in a portal of “sharing.” Our heroes come from any corner, surprising us with the gift of compassion and connecting.
I studied some comic book characters and each possessed a multi-dimensional Shakespearean spirit. They exhibit the different faces of vulnerability and their struggle to maintain “normal” lives.
We love our flawed superheroes. They open up a tactile and authentic way to process pain, shame and weakness. There is Daredevil with his blindness and his attempt to strengthen everything else that is left. The X-Men kids with their discriminatory differences. We see Spider-Man deal with his youth and immaturity. Perhaps the most vulnerable superhero of all is Hulk. He struggles with his emotions every day. He is a great reminder to us all. We all have this alter ego which surfaces when we feel at our most vulnerable. At its core, vulnerability is about the need to connect. It’s about emotions that bring both the best and worst in you. The need to love, give, receive, understand and share. All of these wonderful things carry the possibility of rejection, shame, guilt and self-preservation.
Getting angry is good for about five seconds, it kindles the fire in our spirit. However, you must know that pain and vulnerability must never burn; instead it must warm you. It is in this warmth that we feel truly human, feel that we have hearts beating, lungs puffing in and out, legs that can run and stop and a spirit that may get hurt but never dies.
The face of the hero has slowly been changing. The heroes in our lives are those who spend time with us when we’re down. They are ones who don’t judge us for crying. The hero accepts your weakness and loves you anyway. They are not the Supermen who seem infallible and out of touch.
We all can be heroes. Even if it’s just for one day.