Whole Being: Life Alchemy
Being, Belonging, Becoming
Potentiality for Everyday Heros
Man at the Crossroads" (1933) Diego Rivera’s controversial fresco, originally commissioned for Rockefeller Center, depicted a worker controlling machinery, flanked by panels representing socialism and capitalism. Original was Destroyed; a smaller replica made by Rivera in 1934 is located in the Palacio de Bellas Artes
The world feels stretched thin, as if held together by threads fraying under the weight of global crises, political polarization, rise of authoritarianism, and personal struggles. Anxiety has become a quiet backdrop to daily life, a low hum we carry with us. Many of us wake with hope in our hearts, only to feel it slip away by the end of the day. In moments like these, it’s natural to look outward, searching for heroes to guide us. Many, worn thin by endless headlines, wonder if the age of heroes has passed. Where are the figures to lead us through these dark corridors? But perhaps we are asking the wrong question.
But what if the potential for heroism isn’t out there, but within each of us?
In the philosophy of Alfred North Whitehead, the hero is not a singular figure, sculpted by fate and adorned with certainty. The hero is potentiality, an open space of becoming that exists in each of us. It is not bound by muscle or might but by the quiet, unyielding capacity to act, to care, to change. The archetype of the hero whispers not of triumphs or epic battles but of the everyday courage to live forward into possibility.
We are, all of us, in process. History shows us this—our collective journey is marked by mistakes and missteps, even tragic choices and consequences, yet it is also a testament to growth and resilience. Even when it doesn’t seem like it, we carry the lessons of the past forward, shaping who we are and who we are becoming. At our core, I believe we want to be good, to act with compassion and courage, even when we falter.
Do not be daunted by the enormity of the world's grief. Do justly, now. Love mercy, now. Walk humbly now. You are not obligated to complete the work, but neither are you free to abandon it! ~The Talmud
I might have given up hope, but then I saw a video of strangers on a highway risking their lives to rescue someone from a burning car. That moment reminded me of our capacity for selflessness, bravery, and care. This is who we are, too. It is one side of us—the potential for good that exists in everyone. It’s a powerful reminder that, even amid uncertainty, the spark of heroism lies within us all, waiting to be realized. There are so many reminders that we miss when we are watching the drama on the news. We do need to know what’s going on, but we could use a bird’s eye view to see the larger picture- a picture that includes the good things big and small.
And so, in a time that feels like an unraveling, we are all woven with threads of potentiality. The question is not whether heroes exist but whether we are willing to recognize the unassuming, tender moments of heroism within ourselves and others. In the overlooked and the ordinary, in the spaces between despair and action, the hero archetype stirs, waiting to be lived.
The hero archetype often conjures images of extraordinary strength, capes, or epic deeds. But real heroism is rarely so obvious. It’s found in the quiet, persistent actions of ordinary people who, in their own way, rise to the challenges of their time. These heroes don’t wait for destiny to call; they act, care, and change because they must.
Consider Rosa Parks, a soft-spoken seamstress who refused to relinquish her seat on a bus, igniting a movement that reshaped the fabric of civil rights. Or Fred Rogers, whose gentle presence on television taught generations of children the transformative power of kindness and empathy. Their heroism wasn’t about grandeur—it was about consistency, courage, and a willingness to live their values in the face of adversity.
Heroism is also found in resilience. Temple Grandin, an autistic scientist, redefined how we approach animal welfare and how we view neurodivergence. Jane Goodall, with her quiet, persistent observations, gave the world a deeper understanding of our connection to other species. These heroes didn’t shout for attention. Instead, they listened, learned, and let their work speak for itself.
And then there are the unsung heroes—the caregivers, the community volunteers, the people whose names rarely make headlines. James Harrison, “The Man with the Golden Arm,” donated blood weekly for 60 years, saving over 2 million lives. Darnella Frazier, a teenager armed only with a cell phone, recorded a moment that changed global conversations about racial justice. These are the unassuming figures who remind us that heroism often grows in the shadows, not the spotlight.
Guillaume Courtois, "David and Goliath," 1650-1660. Oil on canvas. Image via Wikimedia Commons.
The story of David and Goliath reminds us that heroism isn’t measured by size, strength, or conventional power. It is about stepping into potentiality, using courage and ingenuity to overcome daunting challenges. David, a shepherd armed with only a sling and his wits, confronts a giant not through brute force but by embracing his unique abilities and unwavering belief in himself. This biblical tale, like all enduring myths, reflects the archetypal truth that the underdog can triumph against overwhelming odds. Mythology, in this way, becomes a mirror—a tool for understanding ourselves and the challenges we face. These stories hold up universal truths about human potential, showing us not what we are but what we can become.
These stories show us that potentiality for heroism exists in all of us. It’s not about changing the world in a single, grand gesture—it’s about the small, deliberate actions that ripple outward. Whether it’s standing up for justice, showing kindness in times of discord, or quietly contributing to the greater good, each of us carries threads of heroism waiting to be woven into something greater.
In Whiteheadian thinking, the lure of heroism is not a command or a rigid destiny but an invitation—a gentle calling toward possibility. It is the pull of potentiality, the whisper of what could be, drawing us forward into moments where courage and care intersect. This lure is not reserved for the extraordinary; it is woven into the fabric of everyday life, urging us to act, to choose, to create. It invites us to step into roles we may not feel prepared for, to stretch beyond our limits, and to become co-creators of a world shaped by empathy and justice. In this way, heroism is not an endpoint but a process, a continual answering of the call to embody our highest potential in each moment.
Heather Cox Richardson, a historian and author known for her insightful commentary on American politics and history, offers a powerful piece of advice: “Do what you are good at.” This wisdom reminds us that our unique strengths are our most effective tools for creating change. When we channel our talents—whether they are creative, analytical, compassionate, or practical—we align with the natural flow of our potential. This isn’t about perfection or grandeur; it’s about recognizing where we can make the most impact and leaning into that space. A writer may inspire reflection, a caregiver may offer solace, and a teacher may spark curiosity. By doing what we are good at, as Richardson exemplifies through her ability to distill complex historical narratives into accessible truths, we not only contribute to the collective good but also find fulfillment in the act of living authentically. Heroism, in this sense, isn’t about stepping outside of ourselves but stepping fully into who we are.
Guernica by Pablo Picasso~Date: 1937 (May 1st-June 4th, Paris)~Oil on canvas
The government of the Spanish Republic acquired the mural "Guernica" from Picasso in 1937. When World War II broke out, the artist decided that the painting should remain in the custody of New York's Museum of Modern Art for safekeeping until the conflict ended. In 1958 Picasso extended the loan of the painting to MoMA for an indefinite period, until such time that democracy had been restored in Spain. The work finally returned to this country in 1981.
Art and Pen as Power
Are you a visual artist, a poet or a writer? Artists can do heroic things with their talent. Whitehead’s notion of the universe as a balance between chaos and order resonates with his view of art. Art reflects this dynamic interplay, taking raw emotion or disorder and shaping it into something meaningful and harmonious. Artists and writers like Pablo Picasso, whose Guernica captured the horrors of war, and Margaret Atwood, whose The Handmaid’s Tale warns of authoritarianism, show how art becomes a form of heroism. Their work goes beyond aesthetics; it disrupts complacency, ignites feelings, and compels us to imagine alternative futures. Anna Akhmatova, through her poetry, preserved the spirit of resistance during Stalin’s regime, while Diego Rivera’s murals gave voice to the struggles of the working class.
And then there’s my favorite artist, Banksy, the enigmatic guerrilla artist whose street art delivers piercing critiques of consumerism, war, and political oppression. His works—such as Girl with a Balloon, Flower Thrower, and his series on the Israel-Palestine conflict—turn public spaces into platforms for reflection and rebellion. Banksy’s anonymity and unpredictable installations embody the very idea of art as an act of resistance, forcing people to confront uncomfortable truths in their daily lives. His art, like Whitehead’s lure, draws us toward what is possible with his use of irony, urging us to imagine a world shaped by empathy, justice, and collective action.
3 by Banksy: Peace Dove Guerilla art in Jerusalem This wall marks the spot where over 40 people were killed during the first Intifada (the little holes along the top are from bullets)
The Flower Thrower, Flower Bomber, Rage, or Love is in the Air is a 2003 stencil mural in Beit Sahour in the West BankIt is considered one of Banksy's most iconic works.
If Graffiti Changed Anything It Would Be Illegal mural is located on a wall on Clipstone Street, Fitzrovia and appeared overnight on Easter Monday in 2011. It depicts one of Banksy’s iconic rats underneath the writing in red reading, “If graffiti changed anything, it would be illegal”. This is a reference to a quote by 20th century political activist Emma Goldman who campaigned for Women’s rights, her words were: “If voting ever changed anything, it would be illegal”.
These creators embraced their own potentiality, using their gifts to challenge injustice and inspire hope. Art, like Whitehead’s lure, calls us toward what is possible, urging us to create, to critique, and to co-shape a more just and empathetic world. In this way, the act of making art becomes an act of heroism, inviting us all to answer the call in our own unique ways.
If wit is your gift, use it. Comedy has always been a powerful tool to speak truth to power, to disarm the mighty with laughter, and to inspire people to think differently. In ancient Ireland, the sharp tongue of the poet wielded as much power as the sword. Rosc poetry, a chant-like, alliterative form, was used by the filí (poets) to bless, curse, and critique. These poets, like modern comedians, knew that well-chosen words could shift the balance of power, stirring the hearts and minds of their listeners.
The tradition continues in our own time. Comedians like Jon Stewart and Trevor Noah have transformed late-night television into platforms for political critique and social awareness. Stewart’s sharp satire exposed hypocrisy in politics and media, while Noah brings a global perspective to issues of inequality and injustice. In Hungary, Anna Polonyi uses stand-up to challenge censorship and authoritarianism, proving that humor can thrive even under oppressive regimes. Similarly, Argentina’s Diego Capusotto critiques political corruption and cultural absurdities with biting wit, engaging younger generations in political discourse.
Even historically, figures like Will Rogers exemplified the power of comedy. With his folksy humor, Rogers critiqued politics and social norms in a way that made complex issues relatable to everyday Americans, proving that laughter can soften even the hardest truths.
Writing comedy, whether it’s sharp satire, a stand-up routine, or humorous poetry, is an act of heroism. It challenges the status quo, invites people to laugh at the absurdities of life, and opens the door to critical thought. If comedy is your gift, embrace it. Be witty, be sharp, and use your words to build bridges, expose injustice, and create change. Like the filí of ancient Ireland or the comedians of today, your voice can be both a weapon and a balm—a force that shapes the world in unexpected ways.
Republicans take care of big money, for big money takes care of them. ~ If you ever injected truth into politics, you have no politics.~ Politics has got so expensive that it takes lots of money to even get beat with nowadays.~ After eating an entire bull, a mountain lion felt so good he started roaring. He kept it up until a hunter came along and shot him. The moral : When you're full of bull, keep your mouth shut. ~ Will Rogers
After all, so much of what frightens us is just performative politics and that is the goal of the performer. We need to ignore the distractions and pay attention to what’s really happening. Maybe it’s a hero who can help us sort it all out. A good defense against performative shock politics is laughter. Remember, these antics are meant to get a rise out of us. Laugh instead. There will be times to worry, but knowing the difference is essential.
Here is an example by a group of citizens, who though not professional comedians, had a hilarious idea. This small German town grew tired of an annual neo-Nazi march, so they turned the event into “Germany’s most involuntary charity walk.” For every meter the Nazis marched, residents raised funds for an organization helping extremists leave hate groups. Along the march route, signs thanked the participants for their “contributions” to anti-Nazi efforts, complete with banners mocking their actions. They even gave out bananas to the Nazis for the implied message. The clever tactic not only raised €10,000 but also discouraged future marches. This approach highlights how creativity and humor can disrupt hate while inspiring unity and resistance.
How to Be a Hero
You don’t need to be a Jon Stewart or a Picaso to make a difference. Heroism doesn’t require a cape or grand gestures. It begins with simple, intentional acts that ripple outward. Start by defining your ethics—know what you stand for and why. Set your boundaries, because clarity about your limits allows you to give and act without burning out. Keep your eyes open to the world around you. Stay informed, even when the news feels overwhelming; understanding the challenges we face is the first step toward addressing them.
Look for opportunities, not impossibilities. Heroism isn’t only about chasing unattainable change, seeking arrest, or becoming a martyr. It’s often about being strategic, working smart, and focusing on where you can make a difference. Do what you are good at. If you are an artist, make art that stirs the soul. If you are a cook, nourish others with your creations. Maybe you are just a bright light in sombody's dark night. Whatever your gift, use it to contribute to the world in ways that only you can.
Build community wherever you are. Talk to your neighbors, listen to their stories, and create spaces where connection and collaboration can flourish. In a time when division often feels like the default, choose to build what you can, where you can. Above all, remember that being a hero is about showing up—imperfectly, persistently, and with purpose. Heather Cox Richardson said, “a Hero is someone who keeps walking forward even when the walls are collapsing.”
With all the darkness that's going on in the world, you can look at the darkness. Don't stare. It will make you crazy. It will make you cross eyed. It'll make you what it is. The solution is to create magic. Dance, sing, love. Create environments where you can find joy. Because you can create joy. ~ Rupaul
Norman Rockwell, The Problem We All Live With, 1963, oil on canvas, 36 x 58 inches. Illustration for LOOK, January 14, 1964. Norman Rockwell Museum Collections.
Rockwell’s painting, created a few years after Ruby Bridges made her fateful entrance at school, was produced at the height of the Civil Rights Movement. It is now considered a symbol of that struggle. Bridges never met Rockwell, but as an adult, she came to admire his decision to tell her story: “Here was a man that had been doing lots of work, painting family images, and all of a sudden decided this is what I’m going to do…it’s wrong, and I’m going to say that it’s wrong…the mere fact that [Norman Rockwell] had enough courage to step up to the plate and say I’m going to make a statement, and he did it in a very powerful way…even though I had not had an opportunity to meet him, I commend him for that.” ~From The Kennedy Center