The Impossible Dream: A Love Song to the Human Spirit

Commentary and Analysis, , ,
Being Heroic is Always Possible

By Scott T. Allison

Some songs reach beyond melody — they reach into our souls. The Impossible Dream, from Man of La Mancha, is one of those rare pieces of music that transcends time and genre. When Don Quixote declares his intention “to fight the unbeatable foe” and “reach the unreachable star,” we feel the pull of something deeply human — the yearning to live with purpose, integrity, and heart.

At first, Quixote’s dream seems absurd. Why chase what you can’t catch? Why take on battles that can’t be won? Yet that’s exactly what makes his dream so profoundly heroic. True heroism has never been about victory; it’s about perseverance, conviction, and the courage to act even when success seems impossible.

Psychologists describe everyday heroes as ordinary people who step forward when others stand aside. They act not because they are fearless, but because their conscience leaves them no choice. The Impossible Dream captures this quiet defiance perfectly — it’s a love song to the human spirit, to our stubborn belief that goodness still matters and that one person’s action can make a difference.

When we listen, we don’t just admire Quixote’s idealism; we join him in it. The song invites each of us to imagine what courage might look like in our own daily lives — speaking truth when silence feels safer, offering kindness in a cynical world, holding fast to compassion when it would be easier to walk away.

This kind of heroism — what psychologists call moral courage — surrounds us more than we realize. It’s visible in the nurse who keeps showing up through exhaustion, the teacher who protects a vulnerable student, the neighbor who stands up against hate. These people may never call themselves heroes, but their actions echo the same timeless call: to live with heart, no matter the cost.

Beneath its stirring lyrics, The Impossible Dream reminds us of a truth Viktor Frankl once wrote about: that meaning is what makes endurance possible. To “dream the impossible dream” is to keep believing that our lives, however small they seem, can help tilt the world a little more toward light.

Perhaps that’s why the song still moves people generations later. It speaks to something eternal in us — the desire to strive, to love, and to serve, even when the odds are steep. To chase the unreachable star is not to be delusional; it’s to live with purpose. It’s to see ourselves as part of something larger and nobler than our own comfort.

So when the world feels heavy, remember Don Quixote’s anthem. Sing it — loudly, imperfectly, unapologetically. Because the act of reaching, even when the goal is distant, is what makes us most human.

And that, in the end, is the most heroic dream of all.

References

Franco, Z., & Zimbardo, P. (2006). The banality of heroism. Greater Good, 3(2), 30-35.

Franco, Z. E., Allison, S. T., & Riches, B. R. (2025). Honoring Philip Zimbardo: Personal reflections on a legacy in Heroism Studies. Heroism Science, 10(1), 1-37.

Pascoe, J., Thorkhildsen, T., & Allison, S. T. (2026). Everyday heroism: Courage, compassion and the power to change the world. Cambridge Scholars.

= = = = =

Tragedy Begets Heroism: How Grief Became a Catalyst for Change after the Camp Mystic Tragedy

Commentary and Analysis, ,

By Scott T. Allison

It is a fundamental human truth — From the depths of pain, heroism often rises.

On July 4, 2025, catastrophic flash flooding at Camp Mystic, a girls’ summer camp in Hunt, Texas, killed 27 people, including campers and staff. The tragedy occurred when the Guadalupe River and a nearby creek overflowed their banks following torrential rainfall, inundating cabins where the youngest campers were sleeping.

The level of grief and suffering felt by the parents and families of these lost girls is unimaginable for most of us.

Soon after this horrific event, the parents of many victims gave emotional testimony to Texas lawmakers, calling for stronger safety measures for youth camps. One parent stated, “The tragedy wasn’t an accident. This was complacency, and it is 100% preventable.” Another pleaded, “Our daughters deserved better, and future campers deserve better.” The urgency was unmistakable: “We would be doing a massive disservice to our daughters for not running with this bill and seeing it through.”

Their advocacy catalyzed legislative change. The Texas bill now requires youth camps to establish floodplain restrictions, emergency plans, staff training, parental notification, warning systems, safety equipment, and safety orientations for all campers and staff.

Why, then, does human suffering give rise to heroic action? Scholars and psychologists have identified several compelling mechanisms.

  1. First, tragedy shatters the illusion of permanence and control. In that raw space, people often re-evaluate their values and priorities. This “existential jolt” can awaken a sense of responsibility—if life is fragile, then what I do right now matters.
  2. Second, tragedy forges empathy through shared pain. Experiencing loss or hardship firsthand deepens the ability to recognize and respond to others’ suffering.
  3. Third, tragedy strengthens social bonds. In the aftermath of disaster, humans often experience what researchers call the “tend-and-befriend” response—banding together for mutual survival and healing. This is also called the Unification Principle of Heroism.
  4. Fourth, tragedy offers a path to redemption. Many spiritual and philosophical traditions—from Buddhism to Christianity—frame suffering as a crucible for transformation.
  5. Finally, tragedy catalyzes post-traumatic growth. Positive psychology research shows that some people emerge from trauma with greater resilience, purpose, and moral clarity.

In a perfect world, human beings would love, help, and look out for each other without tragedy as the inspiration. Yet in the absence of a perfect world, we are called to become more perfect versions of ourselves—where even out of devastation, the seeds of compassion, justice, and heroism can take root and flourish.

= = = = = = =

Pay it Forward 25 Years Later: How Heroism Unifies, Heals, and Transforms

Commentary and Analysis,

By Scott T. Allison

When the movie Pay It Forward premiered in October 2000, the film earned mixed reviews from critics. Some reviewers found it emotionally manipulative or overly sentimental. Others appreciated its intentions but criticized it for leaning too heavily into tearjerker territory.

Audience reactions, however, were warmer. Many viewers were moved by its message, even as critics remained skeptical. The film sparked a meaningful grassroots response — including the creation of the Pay It Forward Foundation and millions of symbolic gestures worldwide — suggesting its core message resonated even if its cinematic execution was widely debated.

Pay It Forward tells the story of Trevor, a thoughtful and idealistic seventh-grader who gets a school assignment to “change the world.” His big idea? Help three people in a big, meaningful way. Instead of asking them to pay him back, they each help three more people. It’s like a kindness chain letter, but in real life.

Trevor’s plan sets off a quiet wave of good deeds, as acts of generosity ripple outward in unexpected ways. Along the way, we see how Trevor’s idea impacts his struggling single mom, his emotionally scarred teacher, and eventually, people he’s never even met.

The Unification Principle of Heroism in Action

Pay it Forward illustrates the Unification Principle of Heroism. All heroic actions stem from a loving commitment to healing, social responsibility, and moral contagion. Trevor’s tragic fate amplifies this theme — his sacrifice is not in vain, as it produces widespread solidarity and emotional transformation across a community.

In this way, Pay It Forward dramatizes the moral and emotional logic of the unification principle: heroism seeks to repair, unite, and uplift the human community.

Here are three key moments in Pay It Forward that capture the Unification Principle of Heroism:

1. Trevor’s Classroom Pitch
When Trevor first shares his “pay it forward” idea in class, it sounds almost too simple: help three people in a big way, and ask them to do the same. But in this moment, he’s planting a seed — not just for random acts of kindness, but for a web of mutual care. He’s not aiming to be the hero himself; he’s inviting everyone to be part of something bigger.

2. The Homeless Man’s Redemption
One of the people Trevor helps is a man struggling with addiction and homelessness. Trevor gives him food, shelter, and more importantly, hope. Later, that man “pays it forward” by helping a woman about to take her own life. It’s a powerful illustration of how heroic compassion can restore connection and meaning, even for those who feel discarded by society.

3. The Final Scene and Candlelight Vigil
After Trevor’s tragic death, something remarkable happens — a huge crowd gathers outside his home with candles. Many of them are strangers who were touched by the ripple effect of his idea. This emotional scene drives home the Unification Principle. Heroism isn’t about one person standing alone, but about how one person’s moral action can inspire unity, healing, and collective transformation.

Trevor’s heroism matters not because he was loud or famous, but because he connected people. His simple idea — help three people in a meaningful way — showed that one person’s courage and kindness can ripple outward, linking strangers, healing wounds, and reminding us that we’re all part of something bigger.

References

Allison, S.T. (2024). Unification principle of heroism. In: Allison, S.T., Beggan, J.K., Goethals, G.R. (eds) Encyclopedia of Heroism Studies. Springer.

Allison, S. T. (2025). The love with a thousand faces: Heroism as embodied love in action. Heroism Science, 10(2), 1-30.

Bray, P. (2024). Hero’s journey and positive transformation. In: Allison, S.T., Beggan, J.K., Goethals, G.R. (eds) Encyclopedia of Heroism Studies. Springer.

Franco, Z. E., Blau, K., & Zimbardo, P. G. (2011). Heroism: A conceptual analysis and differentiation between heroic action and altruism. Review of General Psychology, 15(2), 99–113.

Kidder, R. M. (2005). Moral courage. HarperCollins.

Leder, M. (Director). (2000). Pay it forward [Film]. Warner Bros.

Pascale, R., Sternin, J., & Sternin, M. (2010). The power of positive deviance: How unlikely innovators solve the world’s toughest problems. Harvard Business Press.

Perlin, J.D., McAdams, D.P. (2024). Redemption: Stories heroes live by. In: Allison, S.T., Beggan, J.K., Goethals, G.R. (eds) Encyclopedia of Heroism Studies. Springer.

The Hero’s Journey Parallels the Spiritual Journey

Commentary and Analysis, , , ,

By Scott T. Allison

The stages of the spiritual journey show striking parallels with the stages of the hero’s journey, as both involve a departure from the familiar into a realm of challenges and revelations.

Almost every major spiritual tradition — including Buddhism and Christianity — focuses on human growth resulting from struggle, suffering, and transformation. Franciscan Priest Richard Rohr shares how the story of Jonah became so important to him and his framework of transformation:

Soon after I moved to New Mexico in the late 1980s, I began my studies for what would become the men’s rites of passage. I read everything I could on why every ancient culture deemed it necessary in to initiate the male. It seemed that no culture assumed that men would grow up naturally, because nothing in the male wants to descend. He wants to ascend; he wants to be number one. It’s the competitive nature of masculinity, which has totally informed our culture, no matter who we are. Something has to break through that level of consciousness.  

For me, there is no story—other than the Jesus story itself—which has made that quite as clear as Jonah’s story. Here we have a man who is running from God, running from his own vocation, and God sends a fish to swallow him and take him where he would rather not go. That’s perfect! That’s initiation! We have to be swallowed by something bigger than ourselves. The phrase used by many, including Thomas Merton, was that we have to go into the “belly of the beast”—a place where we are not in control, where we can’t fix it, explain it, understand it, or even like it. Our lack of control, our lack of preference isn’t important. We just have to learn from it.  

I’ve always made a great deal of the passage where Jesus says, “This generation is an evil generation; it seeks a sign, but no sign will be given except the sign of Jonah” (Luke 11:29). He is saying that his message is simple and clear: You’ve got to die before you die. In rites of initiation we teach people that they have to go down before they can possibly go up. In modern psychological language, we call it the death of the ego or the separate self. What has to die is our sense of separateness, because what goes with separateness is superiority. Once we define ourselves according to our nationality, culture, religion, or identity, then we feel we have to defend each one of those. What a waste of energy! We sink to scolding and blaming; not just are we “number one,” but everybody else is a second-class citizen.  

That’s how dualistic our thoughts become. When the private ego didn’t die, Christianity even made salvation into a victory trip, thinking we knew who “won.” To undergo the sign of Jonah feels like losing, and by worldly standards, it looks like it, too. The sign of Jonah is a symbol of surrender, of letting go, of giving up. Most of us wouldn’t describe those as the stages of the journey of enlightenment, but they’re much closer to the real truth and the real journey.  

In short, the spiritual journey is a transformative journey of being humbled by forces beyond our control, and then transforming as a result of that humbling. Triumph over some ordeal leads to a return or rebirth, where the individual, now  enlightened, integrates the acquired wisdom into their life, often with a renewed sense of purpose and a desire to share their insights with others, just as the hero returns with a boon for their community.

References

Allison, S. T. (2024). Spiritual journey’s similarity to the hero’s journey. In S. T. Allison, J. K. Beggan, and G. R. Goethals (Eds.), Encyclopedia of Heroism Studies. Springer.

Rohr, R. (2025).  A story of transformation. Center for Action and Contemplation, July 11th.

What if Love—Not courage or Duty—is the Real Spark Behind Heroism?

Commentary and Analysis

By Scott T. Allison

More than 2,000 years ago, Plato’s Symposium explored love’s power to inspire acts of bravery. Phaedrus, the dialogue’s opening speaker, claimed that love could push even the most timid soul to risk everything. He imagined an army of lovers who would fight with unmatched valor, unwilling to appear weak before their beloveds. Love, in this sense, isn’t a soft emotion—it’s a force that fuels greatness.

This idea—that love drives heroism—has ancient roots, but it remains deeply relevant today. Across cultures and throughout history, the most profound acts of courage are often born not from duty or ambition, but from love in its many forms. Romantic love, yes—but also friendship, familial bonds, compassion, and even love of justice or humanity itself.

The Many Faces of Love

The Greeks had at least eight words for love:

  • Eros: passionate, romantic love
  • Philia: deep friendship
  • Storge: familial affection
  • Agape: selfless, unconditional love
  • Ludus: playful, flirtatious affection
  • Pragma: practical, enduring love
  • Philautia: self-love (healthy or narcissistic)
  • Mania: obsessive, intense love

Each of these can motivate heroic acts. A parent shielding a child (storge), a friend standing up for another (philia), a partner risking all for their beloved (eros), or someone acting out of universal compassion (agape)—these are all expressions of love leading to moral courage.

Heroism Isn’t Always Grand

We tend to think of heroes as warriors or saviors, but heroism often shows up in quiet, everyday ways. Love in action is what makes someone speak up for the marginalized, stand firm in the face of injustice, or care relentlessly for someone in need. Philosopher Simone Weil saw love as a kind of moral gravity—a pull toward the suffering of others. Psychologists like Erich Fromm and Viktor Frankl showed that love is an act, a commitment, a leap beyond self-interest.

Heroism as Embodied Love

So what exactly do we mean when we say “heroism is love in action”? It’s more than sentiment. It’s embodied—lived through our physical and relational presence. It’s when we show up. When we take a risk. When we put someone else’s well-being above our own, even in small ways.

Modern research supports this. Studies show that empathy and attachment—forms of love—predict acts of moral courage. Neuroscience reveals that witnessing compassion can create real physiological changes: warmth in the chest, goosebumps, a tear in the eye. These reactions often motivate us to act heroically ourselves.

Love Transforms Us

Joseph Campbell, in The Hero with a Thousand Faces, described the hero’s journey as a transformative adventure. What if love is the real engine behind that transformation? Love, like suffering, has the power to change us—but unlike suffering, we seek it. It’s a risk we take willingly.

When we say that heroism is love in action, we’re naming something ancient and intuitive: that real bravery often springs from deep emotional bonds. That standing up, speaking out, or sacrificing doesn’t come from abstract ideals alone—it comes from loving someone or something deeply enough to act.

Everyday Heroism

Most people, when asked who their greatest hero is, name a parent—often their mother. Why? Because mothers (and fathers) embody love through tireless, unglamorous acts of care, protection, and support. This, too, is heroism.

Love doesn’t need to be dramatic to be powerful. It lives in daily, often invisible acts of kindness and integrity. A caregiver tending to the elderly, a teacher advocating for a struggling student, a bystander stepping in—these are the thousand faces of love, each one heroic.

Why It Matters

Rethinking heroism as love in action expands our moral imagination. It says: you don’t need to be a soldier, activist, or first responder to be heroic. You need only to love with courage.

This perspective democratizes heroism. It welcomes us all into the circle of potential greatness—not because we seek glory, but because we care. And because we’re willing to act.

In the end, love isn’t just an emotion. It’s a call to action. And heroism, at its core, may simply be the choice to answer that call.

References

Allison, S. T. (2024). Definitions and descriptions of heroism. In S. T. Allison, J. K. Beggan, and G. R. Goethals (Eds.), Encyclopedia of Heroism Studies. Springer.

Allison, S. T., Beggan, J. K., & Goethals, G. R. (Eds.) (2024). The encyclopedia of heroism studies. Springer.

Allison, S. T., Goethals, G. R., Marrinan, A. R., Parker, O. M., Spyrou, S. P., Stein, M. (2019). The metamorphosis of the hero: Principles, processes, and purpose. Frontiers in Psychology, 10, 606.

Campbell, J. (1949). The hero with a thousand faces. New World Library.

Frankl, V. (1946). Man’s search for meaning. Beacon Press.

Plato. (2008). Symposium (B. Jowett, Trans.). Project Gutenberg. (Original work published ca. 380 BCE)

My Hero Roberto Clemente and the Night that Happiness Died

Sports Heroes

By Scott T. Allison

What is the recipe for heroism?  Because heroism is in the eye of the beholder, there is no set list of ingredients.  But research reveals that especially powerful and iconic heroes are perceived to possess at least a few of the following characteristics: (1) They have an exceptional talent; (2) They have a strong moral compass; (3) They incur significant risk; and (4) They make the ultimate sacrifice while helping others.

Roberto Clemente was one of those rare and extraordinary individuals who beautifully, and tragically, fit this mold of a great hero.  Today, nearly five decades after his untimely death, Clemente’s accomplishments, selflessness, and charisma make him an unforgettable hero.

It was the way he lived — and the way he died — that made Clemente an extraordinary individual.

Former major league baseball commissioner Bowie Kuhn once said of Clemente, “He had about him the touch of royalty.”  Duane Rieder, Director of the Clemente museum, said, “There was something about him that was magical.”

Dozens of schools, hospitals, parks, and baseball fields bear his name today. What did Clemente do to earn such veneration?

We won’t delve into many details of Clemente’s genius on the baseball field.  We will say that while playing for the Pittsburgh Pirates from 1955 to 1972, he won multiple batting titles, gold glove awards, world championships, and most valuable player awards.  He hit for average and he hit for power.  He possessed great speed and a rocket of a throwing arm.

Los Angeles Dodgers announcer Vin Scully once said, “Clemente could field a ball in New York and throw out a guy in Pennsylvania.”

People who knew Clemente argue that as great as he was a player, he was an even better human being.  When traveling from city to city as a player, he routinely visited sick children in local hospitals.  According to author David Maraniss, Clemente spent significant time in Latin American cities, where he would often walk the streets with a large bag of coins, searching out poor people.

Wrote Maraniss: “To the needy strangers he encountered in Managua, Clemente asked, “What’s your name? How many in your family?” Then he handed them coins, two or three or four, until his bag was empty.”

Clemente once said, “Any time you have an opportunity to make things better and you don’t, then you are wasting your time on this Earth.”

Clemente, a native Puerto Rican, also overcame significant adversity.  He grew up in poverty.  He faced discrimination, living in an era that tended to be intolerant of non-White, non-English speaking people.  Because baseball at the time was dominated by Willie Mays, Mickey Mantle, and Hank Aaron, Clemente was often overlooked in discussions of great athletes.  Clemente was also hampered throughout his career by chronic back and neck problems.  Yet he still managed to accumulate an exemplary record of achievement on the baseball field.

To this day, the manner in which Clemente died still brings people to tears.  In late December of 1972, he heard that Managua, Nicaragua, had been devastated by a massive earthquake.  Clemente immediately began arranging emergency relief flights from Puerto Rico.  He soon learned, however, that the aid packages on the first three flights never reached victims of the quake.  Apparently, corrupt officials had diverted those flights.  Clemente decided to accompany the fourth relief flight to ensure that the relief supplies would be delivered to the survivors.

The airplane he chartered for a New Year’s Eve flight, a Douglas DC-7, had a history of mechanical problems and was overloaded by 5,000 pounds.  Shortly after takeoff, the plane crashed into the ocean off the coast of Puerto Rico, killing the 38 year-old Clemente and three others.

News of Clemente’s death spread quickly.  In Puerto Rico, New Year’s Eve celebrations ground to a halt. “The streets were empty, the radios silent, except for news about Roberto,” said long-time friend Rudy Hernandez. “Traffic? Except for the road near Punta Maldonado, forget it. All of us cried. All of us who knew him and even those who didn’t wept that week.”

Nick Acosta, another friend, summed up the fateful night that Clemente died.  “It was the night the happiness died,” he said.

Check out this short video showcasing Clemente’s selfless heroism:


– – – – – – – – –