"Tonight, I'll prove myself worthy!" (Danielle Moonstar)

"Tonight, I'll prove myself worthy!'

I have nightmares ... a lot.  

If you've read various posts I've written on here that deal with some of the more unpleasant elements of my past, then that might not surprise you.

I've dealt with my share of monsters in my real life.

But so have a lot of us.

So many of us know what it's like to feel hunted.

We can feel hunted when we watch movies.  We can feel hunted when we watch TV commercials about movies.  We can feel hunted when we watch TV.  We can feel hunted when we watch commercials.  We can feel hunted when we're at the grocery store to buy products advertised in commercials.  We can feel hunted when we go out to any kind of store.  We can feel hunted when we go out anywhere.  We can feel hunted when we go outside.  And we can feel hunted in our dreams and nightmares.

Now, I know I make a lot of lists like that in my blog posts.  I lay out point after point and scenario after scenario, all in one big paragraph, pointing out the same contention over and over again in slightly different ways and with slightly different examples.

Yeah, we know, I'm sometimes, told; we get it, and you don't have to keep repeating it.  And that's fine - except that it assumes that people who get it are the only ones I'm talking to.  But they're not.  Because I know they know.  But you know who doesn't know?  Everyone else.  And so I write, here, to try to explain things to those who don't know and to express my perspective to those who do.

And that's why my approach to explaining my nightmares ... and dreams ... can perhaps be seen as a little unconventional to some - aside from the fact that I truly adore the unconventional, because it can be awesome.

And it takes a certain kind of unconventional approach to turn nightmares and dreams into concrete terms that can be understood in reality ... because both nightmares and dreams are so often unconventional.  And so, as I sat down to write and began thinking about why I do what I do, and how I do it, and how to explain that process to people, I got to thinking about the many inspirations in my life who craft the imaginary into true reality.

And, in particular, my mind came back again and again to thoughts of Dani Moonstar.

Her name, right there in the sentence above, is a link.  Do read up on her if you're not familiar.

Now, as you can see, Dani is a very complex character ... albeit, admittedly, often by virtue of the meandering nature of the "illusion of change" so common to mainstream super-hero comic books.  She has been portrayed as severely mentally-ill and unbreakably mentally-healthy.  She has been shown to be incredible weak and incredibly strong.  She has been shown to be both incredibly skilled as a tactician and amazingly foolish as a leader.  She has been wrong about everything and right all along more times in more stories than I'd care to count.  She's been a mutant, a powerless victim, a martial arts master, a Valkyrie ... and everything in between.

And it's very much accurate to say that comic book characters can't really be counted on to behave in one way or another.

I get that, myself.  I get that there can - and will - be what could be seen as inconsistencies in characters who are so often created by committee and handed off to different writers and artists.  It's the nature of mainstream American superhero media.  Over time, a single character will take on different forms in any kind of serialized medium like comics.

But this piece isn't about an analysis of the editorial prowess, or lack thereof, in Marvel comics.

This is about what Danielle Moonstar means to me ...

... and how, in all her various incarnations, she helps me be a better person.

You see, I learn from Dani.

As the leader of the New Mutants in the 1980s, Dani taught me how to cope with one of my biggest fears at that time, which was working with other people.  She was - and still, often, is - portrayed as a natural leader of others.  Now, it shouldn't need to be said that I'm no leader.  I've never even liked the leader/follower dynamic in and of itself.  I prefer groups that naturally lead themselves without a figurehead taking some position of so-called authority.

But Dani helped me to realize that leading others doesn't mean establishing some great social hierarchy instead of getting things done.  Dani's natural position of leadership stems not from any capacity for  demanding obedience from her skills and abilities and the confidence she inspires specifically because of her abilities in other areas.  I admire this idea for those times when leadership is, and will be, demanded of me.  I'll know what to say and do based not on some abstract ideal of what makes a good leader, but because I'm the best person to handle the given situation where my leadership is called for if it is needed.  When those moments come, I'll be ready for those challenges because of who I am and not simply for what I'm trying to do.  And I'll know what to say when life throws me into a situation where I have to be the one to take charge.

Of course, Dani's actual skill-set is a lot different from my own.

But a strong personal skill-set isn't the only way Dani leads.

She also leads by virtue of her empathy.  And it's an empathy that inspires me in how she uses it.

Now, I'll inform you - just in case this is your first time reading my words - that I'm autistic.  I have a condition that is expressly described by many psychologists as making empathy a challenge.

But reading about Dani using her gifts doesn't just tell me that having empathy is a virtue.  That wouldn't be enough to inspire me, any more than any comic-book character's super-powers could inspire a person.  Aquaman's ability to breathe underwater doesn't make him inspirational.  It just means he can breathe underwater.  But Dani's empathy - well, that's a different story.

You see, when you lack empathy, it's hard to figure out how other people ... "do empathy."  It's like trying to imagine yourself with a tail.  Sure, you can conceive of it ... but you don't know the muscles to stretch or contract to make it move.  You don't have those muscles.  And not understanding why other people do or say things can lead to severe misunderstandings, and a lot of fear.

And so, as you can see from the picture above this paragraph, even Danielle Moonstar sometimes has a total lack of understanding about why people are doing things ... just like I do.  Knowing that she, with her incredible gifts, can fail ... well, it helps me avoid frustration at my own imperfection when I try to apply this skill to my own life.  She helped to teach me that, even with the best capacity for empathy, there will be failures and misunderstandings.

But what Dani has also helped me to teach myself is that empathy, like a muscle, must be exercised for it to be its strongest.

And she has also taught me that exercising empathy means truly communicating with other people.  It means exposing oneself to the risk of rejection.  It means having an open mind and asking genuine questions, even when you know the other person might not be too receptive to them.

Because Dani's empathy isn't simply a magical gift.  Yes, she has mutant powers that allow her to understand other people's thoughts ... but she doesn't necessarily just make that her go-to method of learning about other people.  If she did, there'd be nothing inspirational about her - she'd just have all the answers magically dropped into her lap.  But that's not how Dani works.  Instead, she uses the same skills a real person has to use, with all the associated frustrations that other people can cause in trying to exercise those skills.

And, because of this, she has also taught me that - as with any mental skill - being empathic requires the efforts of finding balance and self-control.

And, here, Dani has also taught me that - by accident, or by intent - one's empathy can also reach too far, extend too deeply into another person, encroach too much on someone else's wishes to disclose the truths about themselves.

You see, Dani - at one time - had the ability to conjure up illusions drawn from the minds of other people.  Then, later, she gained such control over her power that she could craft illusions of her own making and give them the appearance of real three-dimensional objects.

In other words, she could take dreams and turn them into something resembling reality.

And that resonates with me.  Because, as should be obvious, I'm a writer.

And writers turn their own imaginations into a semblance of reality every time they put words to the page.

That's what being a writer means - to me.

It means pulling elements of non-existent imagination out into the real world, even if they take the form of your worst nightmares or most private dreams.

But, as Dani shows, there's a cost to it.

There's a cost to being so creative ... and that's that giving greater life to your dreams and nightmares can lead to your being haunted even more by them.

In fact, it's where we're most haunted in ourselves that we can reflect on the greatest truths.

In fact, a writer must go back again and again to those most haunting and terrifying places within themselves and within the world around them to delve into these important and hidden truths.

Even when writers are writing the lightest and silliest stories, we are often dealing with real aspects of our real thoughts and lives.

We have to prove ourselves every night when we close our eyes and face our fears, whether it's the primal fear of the dark or the fear of those around us causing us harm or of the harm we've done or might do to ourselves.  It could be fear of being alone.  It could be fear of being connected to other human beings, or of society itself.  It could be fear of rejection - or, heck, even acceptance - at the hands and words of our fellow humans.

But what we have to remember is that we are human.  The whole idea of mutants is a metaphor.  The Sentinels know it - mutants are humans.  Humans are mutants.  We are us.

And, because of that, we're imperfect.  We mess up.  We ruin what's good in our lives sometimes.  We'll often run away from these confrontations, and avoid these challenges.

But going into those shadowy corners of our psyches is what leads us toward a clearer understanding of ourselves that lets us stop hiding our faces from the light and stand tall and proud.

And there's more to this metaphor of Dani's powers and what they can do - as they relate also to empathy and the idea of exploring and understanding one's personal space.  Through the metaphor of Dani's journeys, she has also taught me about another benefit to standing tall.

And that's the benefit that, when you stand tall, you can see more of the world around you.

And that's a great tool to have in understanding and observing what you're aiming at in life.

Yes, sometimes the footing might not be so great.  The ground can be rocky and covered with imbalancing elements, especially in the metaphorical realm of self-analysis.

But, as is the case with Dani, our greatest tools in taking aim at understanding ourselves come not from outside of ourselves, but from within us.

We don't need self-help books, though they can help us improve ourselves and the way we use the tools with which we excel in our lives, for good or ill.

We don't need to find other people to do the job for us, though friends and allies are important.

Dani shows me that I'm the one who has to fight.

I'm the one who must take the leading step forward.

I'm the one who must be ready to adapt, whether I have powers and abilities one day that I suddenly lack the next.

And adaption is important in the world, especially when confronting dreams and nightmares, because, in real life, you never know where - and who, and what - you'll be from one day to the next, no matter how much you might seek consistency.

Changes will happen to you, whether you like it or not.  Sometimes, that change can make you feel out-of-control, overwhelmed, overcome.

Somtimes, we can feel like there's a total lack of harmony with the world in which we live.

And finding that harmony is another inspirational element of Dani's character.

Because Dani has taught me that in order to find harmony when dealing with others, one must find harmony in one's own life - and in one's own existence.

And it's hard for me to find that harmony.  It's a challenge.  And there are times when I feel like I'm out of sync with everything around me, like there will never be another moment when I'll feel at peace or comfortable..  But what Dani helped to show me about these moments is that seeking harmony is always in my control, even when achieving harmony might not be.

Failing to succeed at achieving it doesn't mean I shouldn't keep trying to achieve it, even if the days of harmony are fewer and more far-between than I'd like.  Because sometimes things happen that are out of our control.  Sometimes, Dani reminds me, we'll lose what we try to hold on to the most.

And it's when those out-of-control moments of loss happen to us that we most need to observe the world around us, to find our center and our resolve.

Of course, as an autistic person, I don't handle change well.  Sort of like the aforementioned lack of empathy, a resistance to change is often seen by psychologists as a hallmark of the autistic state of mind.  And saying I don't handle change well doesn't really cover it.

Sometimes, I hate it.

Sometimes, it sends me into a mental state that many refer to as a "meltdown."  It's where my emotions almost completely get the better of me and I can't do anything at all.  I feel like I can only ... feel - and by feel, I mean feel everything around me.  Everything turns inward.  Everything triggers anxieties and terrors.  Everything ... well, melts.  And it's no fun - at all.  And when these meltdowns happen, other people often don't understand what's going on with me or why I suddenly feel so overwhelmed ... or seem hopeless, even when I'm not.

And, as a child, I often thought the same way Dani is thinking in the panels just above this sentence.  I would sometimes think that - for all my talents and gifts and abilities - I wasn't meant to exist on this planet.

And - as hard as it is for me to write this - there have been times in my life when I felt like maybe I wasn't meant to exist in the world.  I would look into a mirror at the "boy" looking back at me and say "Why am I me?  Why did you do this to me?"

I never believed in any god, so the "you" was meant to be the universe, the mathematical tumble of genes and interconnections that led me to that moment in front of the mirror - a general blaming of the universe for pain I didn't feel as though I had caused.  In some cases, the demons weren't necessarily my own, but they still haunted and hurt me.

And, while I never wanted to die, I understood the desolation that some people feel where they think they simply ... shouldn't be.  So this was a catharsis in reading of Dani's struggles.  I knew, of course, that she wasn't real.  But that didn't change the fact that I could vent so much of my frustration in life simply by flopping onto my back on my bed and holding a New Mutants comic book over my head, arms outstretched, saying out loud "Dani - I have been there."

And when she would inevitably face off against those personal demons - in whatever aggrandized form they would take, I would cheer inside.  I would burn warm in my marrow with solidarity for her and feel the rush of knowing what it felt like to believe in oneself, to take the fateful steps that meant confronting fears instead of surrendering to them - even when there was still so much fear alongside those feelings.

Of course, being willing to confront one's demons isn't the same as fighting them.

And sometimes the moment when we see just how tough the fight is going to be is a troubling one.

Sometimes, it can be downright terrifying when we're confronted with the enormity of what we have to do simply to exist free from our own self-destructive fears.  The challenge can, in fact, often seem insurmountable.

But Dani knew that she needed to face her demons instead of running from them.  She knew it wasn't just a challenge, but instead a requirement for survival.

And I knew that this was the only way I could defeat them in my own life ... and, too, in my own situation, that defeating them was essential to my very existence on Earth.

And so when Dani's arrows would sing, I would feel like they were inspiring me to take aim at the fears and doubts inside of myself and let fly with all my confidence and ensure that I'd hit those metaphorical demons inside of myself where it would hurt them the most.

So Dani's successes helped me find the courage to seek out my own, yes.  But, if Dani were perfect, there wouldn't be much of an inspiration there ... or any kind of long-term success.

Because here's the thing about one's personal demons -

They have a habit of surviving even our best efforts to stop them.

And in fighting those battles, accepting those challenges and confronting those fears ... there's a sort of an arc, when we view these events from the context of history.

What feels like - and may very well be - a series of random, inconsistent events ... well, they start to form together into the arc of our lives, our successes and failures being turned from nonsense into narrative.  We take those dreams and realities and bring them to life, in a way, specifically so that we can confront them.  So - there's that metaphor again that Dani so perfectly represents to me.  As a writer, I have to go deep within my own mind and within what I can empathize with from the minds of others to draw out these truths that hide within illusions.  I make them real in the sense of crafting the illusion into something that can be represented on the page.  And, once confined into some kind of reality, even the most frightening of our dreams and nightmares can be faced, if never truly outright defeated.

And, yes, we often end up fighting the same battles over and over.  But each time we do, we're a little more confident and a little more prepared.

And that's why it's so important - to me - to look at where Dani wa once, where I was once.  It's important for me to see, in myself and in this inspirational character who has helped me so much, that there were times when we weren't sure we belonged in the world ... in order to truly appreciate how much both of us were willing to work in order to survive.

Because, sometimes, it takes those crises of consciousness in ourselves for us to truly value our own existence.  Sometimes, we need our inner demons to remind us that we'll fight as hard as we'll fight to avoid surrendering to them.

Sometimes, in order to truly feel alive, we need to understand the fragility of our existence and our own mortality.  And we also need the empathy to see the mortality of those living all around us.

And this is where another element of Dani's story touches me deeply, as you may already know if you've read my piece on a certain other Marvel character who is one of my favorites.

Because, you see, in addition to all these other inspirational elements that make up who Dani is ... she's also a Valkyrie.

And Valkyrie are - to me - awesome.

They're awesome because their courage is built around the notion of mortality.

They come as symbols of death, yes - but not to destroy.

They come to represent the cycle of life and death coming to an end ... as a kind of rescue, as healing, as a cure, as a means to ... defend.

Plus, there's the fact that Dani as a valkyrie is pretty awesome.

It's sometimes as simple as that.

Awesome things make me happy.  And being happy helps.  A lot.  And Dani's confidence and character make me happy.  A lot.

She makes me happy in her moments as a warrior - like I am.

She makes me happy in her moments as a leader - like I can be.

She makes me happy when she takes quiet moments to appreciate life - like I do.  Those quiet moment are precious and must be protected.  Yes, they are far too infrequent.  But so what?  It just means we need to really stop and appreciate them.

She makes me happy when she uses her power to craft illusions into visible representations of reality - like I try to do when I write.

She makes me happy when she uses her gifts to mount a defense for those who cannot defend themselves - like I try to achieve when I write.

She makes me happy even when she has no super-powers at all ... except perfect aim against injustice - like I seek when  I write.  And writing to bring justice to voiceless people who may not have the luxuries of speaking out like I do - out of situation, or fear, or pressures or other unfathomable needs ... that's why I do what I do.

She makes me happy when she's strong and serious - like I often am.

She makes me happy when she's relaxed and kind - like I am, less-frequently (but I'm trying!).

She makes me happy when she's powerful and strong ... and when she's goofy and silly ... because that's how we all are, deep down - a mess of different thoughts and feelings and ideas.  Yesterday's traumas can seem like today's cartoons.

And she makes me happy in whatever capacity a writer will portray her.  Whether she's Mirage, or Psyche ... whether she's a mutant or a Valkyrie ... whether she's having a rough go of it or standing strong on the page in pure confidence ... whether she's at the top of her game or at the bottom of a long valley of misfortune.

She makes me happy, too, when she helps me think of how I will prove myself the next day, and the next.  She helps me think of tomorrow as I go to bed at night.  I try to appreciate every breath of life, no matter how much the day made me hurt.  I try to find the balance and harmony and faith in myself to recognize that no matter how much things change, I will walk into my dreams and nightmares proudly.  Tonight, I think, I'll prove myself worthy!  And I'll be back at it tomorrow - because, no matter what,  I know she takes each step on her journey with an eye toward seeing it through and proving herself.

Just like me.