I don't even remember the name of my Hero.

I've always loved books. Starting preschool not knowing a drop of English, I always found solace in bedtime when me and my dad would lay down and read science fiction novels, fantasy and fairy tales. And so conversely, I would also be exposed to many variations and spins on what makes a hero.

However, ironically enough, when it comes to try and find a hero that had made an impact on my life, I end up coming short. It's not that these stories hadn't been moving, or enthralling enough, quite the contrary. I remember shaking my dad awake most nights to finish the chapter we were on. It is just that, in the end to me they were just stories. And the characters were just that: characters, figments of someone's thoughts and ideals.

And although I cannot deny that these characters, both fictional and real, had done some awe inspiring feats, the thought never arose of "Hey, maybe I can do that if I try hard enough too." But instead a deep appreciation of what they did is unique to them, and so was their journey, but is not something I can achieve, or at least envision achieving.

My approach to life had always been one in which I carve out my own path and achievements. I've never liked the idea of striving to be like someone else. I think the idea of trying to take what someone is and trying to become [a better version of] them is what never sat well with me. And I think I can draw comparisons to this tendency to strive for my own path when I had been young.

Well to start, I guess you would ask what fun do you receive from reading books if you don't take inspiration or relate to some character in the book, and I think in the end it boils down to a somewhat primitive but central idea that the characters and settings where always just fucking awesome. I mean what isn't cool about huge medieval castles, giant space ships, dwarves, elves, and a single person rushing in head first battling with swords or guns and what not. What isn't there to love about the solitary dog fighter over the Adriatic or the treacheries of a dead but famous pirates crew and his treasure.

But before even reading books, I remember one of my most cherished gifts and that where legos. It was a medium I could express my stories and creativity without the need of language. A place where I could express what was in my head through my nimble fingers. And since I had a little brother, one which no lego set was safe from, I had grown to love the chaos of the Lego box. A giant Tupperware container which I spent countless hours rummaging my hands through finding countless of small little treasures in the form of cool or unique Lego pieces. And I think the chaos of the Lego box is somewhat synonymous with what I love about carving out my own path, the joy of finding small little treasures as you chop your way through the fields of life.

But lastly, I also think the characters which I would end up growing to like the most where also the ones who had been most open ended in their ideals and persona, leaving not much to adopt. I think right now, one which comes most prominently to mind is Snufkin from the Moomins. A person we see as having also carved his own path. He is kind and patient, but we don't know much of Snufkin himself, traveling away during the heavily snowy winter of Moomin valley and returning in spring we get a glimpse onto his love for solitude and his almost romanticized vagabond nature but not much else.