The Weight of Willingness: Redefining the Hero at Fifty

Happy Monday. As I step into this week, I find myself standing at the threshold of my fiftieth year. At this midpoint, the mirrors I look into have changed. I’ve stopped looking for who I might become one day and have started a ruthless accounting of who I actually am. My deliberations this morning have centered on a singular, piercing question: Who is my hero?

I keep returning to a profound provocation by the Beloved Chariji of Heartfulness, who left us over a decade ago. He once said that to be a Master is to be responsible for the whole universe. He followed it with a challenge that stripped away all my pretenses: "You may not be able—but are you willing?"

I’ve realized that I want to be a true abhyasi—a disciplined practitioner. For me, that is defined by willingness. While I see a world clamoring for a "Mastery" that looks like authority and the spotlight, I am finding that the real work—the heavy lifting—is in the responsibility.

The Evolution of My Icon

In my youth, the hero took a very specific form: Mr. Rajinikanth. To a teenager like me, struggling with the weight of self-doubt, he was an explosion of liberation. In a society that often whispered that dark skin was a flaw, his composure, style, and excitement broke my chains. He taught me that I wasn’t "ugly" because of my color.

As the years passed, I watched the industry change his lens; makeup made him fairer to suit the box office. Yet, I noticed he continued to live simply, appearing as he is in his day-to-day life. I appreciate his dharma—he caters to his producers so they don’t lose money. I see the honor in that.

However, I am also coming to terms with the fact that I can appreciate the man without consuming his movies. The current trend of cinema—the bloodshed and the glorification of revenge—no longer resonates with the person I am choosing to be. I remember him asking a public question that stuck with me: "Scientists make many things. But could we humans make a drop of blood?" If blood is the Creator’s creation, sacred and inimitable, I’ve decided I can no longer celebrate its wanton spilling as entertainment.

Strength as a Choice, Not a Weapon

The heroes I want to bring into my own "movies"—the stories I tell with my life—are everyday heroes. I am drawn to the struggle and the lightheartedness of the common man. I find myself moved by a firmness against evil that doesn't seek destruction, and punishment that holds the door open for reform. To me, revenge is a circular fire; I’m looking for the sun.

I’ve had to clarify something for myself: This isn't a retreat into weakness. I still train my body physically—I damn well do. I aspire to be the strongest I can be in body, emotion, and thought. But I’ve made a choice: I want to use that strength to grow higher, not to settle scores. I am working to get rid of my own lower tendencies, even in thought. I’m learning to use strength to prevent destruction, to be the person who can hold the line without needing to destroy the person across from it, again, even in thought.

My King Vikram Resolution

I look at men like Chariji, and now Daaji, following in the footsteps of his Master. I see them doing the hardest honorable things by adhering to two pillars that I’m trying to make my own:

1. Do what must be done.

2. Do not even spend time entertaining thoughts of things I should not do.

   
   

I’ve found that I usually know exactly what these two things are. My heart holds the compass. The struggle is that I often give up my emotional "wherewithal," deviating from the straight, narrow, and often lone path. Yet, when I ask my heart, I know that all my strength and liveliness come from staying on that path.

So, like the persistent King Vikram, who walks up the path of persistence, I am stepping again into a resolution. I’ve realized these masters are heroes not because they are inherently more powerful, but because they are willing. I want to be willing to put my time to the best use—to advance others even if it means losing my comforts or inviting inconvenience.

What does this look like in my mundane Monday?

It looks like a quiet decision in a darkened cinema. If my family wants my company at a movie I don’t want to watch, I will go. I will be there for them. But I won't be a spectator to the violence. I will sit in the dark and turn my heart into a sanctuary. I will spend those hours in prayer, holding deep thoughts for their well-being.

Where there is a will, there is a way.

My hope is to gain more momentum and increase the scope of my responsibility. I want to honor those who give 100% of their time and energy to the welfare of us all.

Have a great week. I’m going to do my best to be willing.

Citizen KK

www.citizenkk.com