Clark Kent is a hero precisely because he never asks for thanks, loves the world with purity and is so profoundly decent that nobody can see him.
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Tiny face crumpled, the tears began flowing and I realized that I had inadvertently triggered a significant emotional release in my son. He had seemed to be coping so well with the toxic divorce that on occasion it was as though nothing was wrong, but as a professional therapist and coach I should know better.
It reminded me of another crying child from a different era—one preoccupied with a question that until recently I have never quite been able to answer.
Of course the movie is oriented towards the heroics and special effects of Superman, but for me the story has always been “what’s wrong with Clark Kent?”
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That child was me and the setting was the darkened theatre of the late 70’s showing Superman as he fled his dying planet. I wept that day at the thought that young Kal-El would never see his dad again. The destruction of the planet seemed a minor detail by comparison. I had no idea that this psychodrama was actually something to do with my own abandonment by my father—at that time it seemed just tragic
As the movie progressed, the next trigger point was the death of Clark Kent’s father, the admirable conscience of the future superhero. As he fell to the ground clutching his heart I had little idea that matters of the heart would one day become my profession. The theme was nonetheless one that to this day I find it difficult to escape.
So young Clark becomes a man and moves to Metropolis, where he hides his identity as Superman and lives as a mild-mannered reporter. In between zipping in and out of phone boxes, saving cats and thwarting villainous machinations, Clark develops a poorly hidden affection for award-winning reporter Lois Lane.
Even as a small child this relationship dynamic fascinated me. Her absolute infatuation with the Kryptonian god-figure and her simultaneous inability to even notice the same man standing right next to her seemed to be an injustice of the highest order. Inasmuch as a child can be morally offended I certainly was—was Clark not decent? Handsome, attentive to her every need? The guy in the suit flies in, flies out, is clearly unattainable and she can’t get enough of him.
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It is interesting how movies influence our worldview at such a young age. Here is a big, strong, loving man—the antithesis of the father and stepfather that I had inherited—and Lois is not remotely interested. Of course the movie is oriented towards the heroics and special effects of Superman, but for me the story has always been “what’s wrong with Clark Kent?”
As a young boy growing up, like so many over so many generations, I wanted to be like Superman. Invulnerable, bullet proof, fast, and a protector of the weak and vulnerable. Saving damsels in distress, always just on time, always a winner. What is not to love? Except that as I approach my 43rd birthday, that archetype now seems useful in one sense and profoundly counter-productive as a model on the other.
For a moment, let us spotlight Clark Kent. I have never heard of anyone aspiring to be Clark Kent. I am going to buck the trend and here’s why.
For most of my adult life, like many young men, I behaved as though I was immortal, invulnerable, and not subject to the emotional ravages of ordinary life. Eschewing the concept that I was in any way human, I partied like a rock star with the sole result that two decades of the movie of my life are at best blurry and at all times a total waste of the gift of youth. With adult eyes, and now living my life from an entirely different behavioral, psychological and spiritual model, I wonder what lessons I mistakenly absorbed from that early cinema experience.
It was certainly a shock to be sitting in a hospital room in my mid 30’s being told that I had a degenerative, debilitating and incurable disease. After all I was Superman.
As regular readers will know, to say that I have experienced a dramatic life transformation is a significant understatement. The currency of my belief systems, profession, and fatherhood journey is love. Dressed in many different clothes and sometimes highly technical language, it is love.
Despite the obvious failings of my marriage I remain committed to finding or creating a long-lasting productive committed romantic relationship. This is where it gets interesting. in order for me to heal I have had to develop an extraordinary relationship with my subconscious mind, which among other things is the feeling mind. Now, who among us has not heard a woman complaining about the lack of emotional availability of men?
Good guys just don’t get the girl, while drunken, drug addled rock stars and superheroes do.
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When a younger man I was far too concerned with being a peacock to spend one second on matters that many men deem effeminate – a mistake in my opinion, and sometimes a fatal one – yet as a man full grown I cannot help notice the difference in how women respond to me. As a drunken, angry asshole I could not move for female attention. Now, as a loving father, a healer and absolutely committed to being the best man that I can be, I appear to be of no interest to the market whatsoever. I often hear how sweet I am, and I would be lying if I said that it had not irritated me. After all, what man would not prefer to be seen as the dashing blade rather than the comfortable slippers.
As I meditated on why this was irritating, my mind drifted back time and again to Clark Kent and my initial priming experience that good guys just don’t get the girl, while drunken, drug addled rock stars and superheroes do. I have learned the hard way the virtue of virtue, and the reward of ego dissolution and useful service of God and man. so on that basis, fearless self-examination, I decided that it’s okay to me to admit that I’m not Superman. If I’m not Superman, who then can I claim to be?
The answer was staring me in the face the whole time – the real hero is the unsung Clark Kent. One of my coaches , Jeff Faldalen , taught me that the real translation of ‘Meek ‘ is ‘power under control’. My initial attempt to turn that into something clever, a common and counter-productive habit of mine, missed the point entirely,
Clark Kent is a hero precisely because he never asks for thanks, loves the world with purity and is so profoundly decent that nobody can see him. If that is to be my fate then as a man I can ask for little more.
For myself, that die is cast, and I choose to embrace it with dignity, I am becoming Clark Kent.
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So in the middle of the crowded restaurant as my son cried, I opened my arms and cried with him. Superman does not cry, but I wonder if Clark Kent does. I told my boy that I am sorry and cannot imagine how terrible an experience it must be to see his parents in such a state of mutual dysfunction. I tell him he is allowed to feel everything he is feeling and that he does not need to carry it because he’s not Superman. He’s him – beautiful, perfect and deserving of all the good that love and healthy relationships can bring.
If he grows into a Clark Kent figure as well, I will be even more proud. For myself, that die is cast, and I choose to embrace it with dignity, I am becoming Clark Kent.
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Source: 30dB.com – Clark Kent vs Superman
‘Ok, Superman is undoubtedly taking some hits in social over the recent movie and even some backlash from the Ben Affleck as Batman disaster but at 63% positive Clark Kent does pretty well holding his own.” — Howard K. 30db
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Main Photo: Getty Images
Adam. I love it! But I would like to add one more thing. Clark Kent is Superman. But not the other way round. He was Clark all his life, until he found out that his biological (kryptological) father was Jor El, and his first given name was Cal. This did not change who he was. All he learned was that he was an alien and that’s why he had all those powers. It was just an answer that he found, nothing more. There are some of us that think his real super power is being able to be Clark Kent.… Read more »