Becoming someone you admire.

Do as those you revere and you, too, will soon be worthy of reverence. 

For years, I took a passive approach to character development, content to admire from afar. I devoured the works of dead men—Solomon, Socrates, Marcus Aurelius, and Abraham Lincoln—as if that, alone, was sufficient to “take on the color of dead men” as the Oracle of Delphi told Zeno to do long ago. 

In an abstract way, these figures came to serve as my guiding lights. Like Simba's stars, the "great kings of the past, watching over [me]." I saw the stars, but did not, as Marcus says, "see [myself] running with them." 

Until, that is, my curiosity led me to encounters that conspired to wake me up. Slowly, first. And then all at once, it became painfully clear that it was no longer enough to admire the stars from afar; it was time to make my way in their direction so that I might admire them from within. 

The only way to do that (become someone I respected) was to weave their admirable threads into the fabric of my being. 

So I began de-constructing and reverse engineering the lives of my dead mentors. What is it—specifically—that I admire? What habits—specifically—led them to carve themselves with such noble character? 

Slowly, the stairs to the stars took shape, as I saw it’s a step toward Socrates each time I have the courage to speak the truth (as best I understand it) and let come what may; toward Solomon every morning that I ask for, and seek, wisdom above all else; toward Marcus whenever I meet temptation with restraint; and toward Abe every time I choose what’s right over what’s easy.  

Since then, I’ve started paying attention every time admiration rises within me. I’ve followed its call to de-construct fictional figures (like Hercules and King Arthur) and, increasingly, to spend my time in the land of the living with the big-souled beings I admire. 

Which is why I can’t thank my men’s group (Men We Admire) enough. For surrounding me with living examples of men I admire to learn from. For never letting me settle for less. And for encouraging us all to give ourselves the gift of spending time with those we revere so that we, too, might “soon be [ourselves] worthy of reverence.”