Who are your heroes?

My heroes. That’s a tough one.

You’d think it would be simple. But admiring someone — or even admiring an aspect of someone — is quite different from publicly declaring they’re your hero.

Heroes are a big deal, aren’t they? They’re meant to be… well, heroic.

I admire people for all sorts of reasons. The challenges they’ve overcome. Their character. The way they show up when it matters. And most often, these people are not celebrities or icons. They’re people I know. People I’ve worked with. Friends. Family.

I’m in my late forties, and I’d like to think I’ve experienced a bit more than the average person my age. (That’ll be the “saying yes too much” thing.) I’ve learned a lot about people — their motivations, what inspires them — and in the process, a fair bit about myself. What I’m good at. Where I fall short. What I used to believe, and what I’ve come to understand.

The same goes for the heroes I once held up when I was younger. Time has a way of making them smaller. Or at least more human.

Because that’s the problem with heroes. They rarely live up to what we want them to be. And the ones we’re given — public figures, celebrities, high-profile leaders — are often carefully managed and PR’d to death. They’re coached. Scripted. Packaged.

Which is not particularly inspiring, if we’re honest.

So lately, I’ve stopped looking outward. I’ve started looking inward instead.

A few months ago I tweeted something along the lines of:

“Instead of looking to others to inspire you, be the person you aspire to be like.”

Of course, Gandhi got there first, with something much better:

“You must be the change you want to see in the world.”

Imagine what the workplace — or the world — would feel like if more people did exactly that.

When we think of heroes, we often picture great leaders. But that leads to an interesting question. If someone is your hero, would you follow them? Would others?

And what do we even mean by “leader” these days?

Lao Tsu, writing in 6th Century BC China, had an entirely different view of leadership. He described the Dao (or Tao) as the mystical source of all existence. Humans are part of it — not above it — and our desire to control everything is what causes imbalance.

His philosophy suggests that real progress isn’t loud or forceful. It’s about returning to a calmer state. One that’s more aligned with our nature. Not resisting everything. Not forcing change. Just… moving with it.

He also wrote something that’s become a kind of personal mantra for me — and an alternative to the ego-fuelled version of leadership we often celebrate today:

“A leader is best when people barely know he exists,

Not so good when people obey and acclaim him,

Worse when they despise him.

But of a good leader, who talks little,

When his work is done, his aim fulfilled,

They will say: We did it ourselves.”

If you’re looking for a hero to follow, that’s a good place to start.