Dear Students,
In previous letters, I asked you to read, write, never surrender, and create more. In this one, I ask: Are you the hero in your life’s story?
Few stories have captured the imagination of readers across generations quite like James Thurber’s The Secret Life of Walter Mitty. Published in 1939, the story is an iconic piece of American literature, exploring the inner life of a person who escapes the drudgery of daily life through vivid fantasies.
Walter Mitty, a meek and ordinary character on the surface, reveals through his inner world a heroic, adventurous version of himself—whether as a brave naval commander, a skilled surgeon, or a fearless fighter pilot. Roles all unrealized, leading to the term “Mittyesque,” describing those lost in grandiose fantasy.
The story is a classic because it taps into something so deeply human – that gap between who we are and who we wish to be. As Henry David Thoreau noted over a century ago, ‘The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation.’ That poignant observation is what makes Thurber’s tale so compelling, or even outright sad in my view.
What makes Thurber’s story so tragic is that Walter Mitty never truly escapes. His fantasies, while vivid and heroic, remain just that – fantasies. His grand internal world is forever at odds with a life dominated by banality and small humiliations. Those brief respites in his imagination only serve to reinforce his powerlessness in the real world.
Despite its melancholy brilliance, Thurber’s story leaves me unsatisfied. There is no resolution, no transformation, no reinvention. Mitty’s fantasies are merely a coping mechanism for his unremarkable life. My heart aches for Mitty, trapped in his imagination, longing for more but unable or unwilling to act on his desire. Alas.
Enter Hollywood with the 2013 film adaptation (kudos to Ben Stiller), which captures Mitty’s essence while taking a satisfying step forward. The film transforms passive fantasies into an active, real-world hero’s journey.
While Thurber’s Mitty retreats into imagination to cope—leaving us with a sense of unfulfilled potential—Stiller’s Mitty heeds the call to adventure, stepping out of his comfort zone and leaving his ordinary world behind. Pushed to the brink by obligations, Mitty steps out of his comfort zone and ventures into the unknown.
His fantasies are practice for heroic adventures: fighting off a shark, fleeing an erupting volcano, and climbing the Himalayas in search of an elusive friend. Each experience propels him further into a risky world, changing him as he discovers capability and courage.
In an uplifting sequence, Mitty joyously skateboards down a long, winding road in the stunning Icelandic landscape. He weaves between curves with ease as the camera sweeps through the rugged scenery, capturing his freedom as he glides effortlessly—the wind rushing through his hair. The scene recalls a pastime he loved as a teenager but abandoned when he embraced adult responsibilities.
As I watched, my heart burst with joy. I cried, moved by the journey from fantasy to remarkable reality.
This brings me to the point of this letter: I am concerned about you, my students. I suggest that the modern “Mittyesque” life is even more tragic than the original. Instead of escaping into your own heroic fantasies, too often your faces are in front of screens, consuming other people’s art, achievements, and adventures. Passively absorbing the curated lives of others is a more destructive version of fantasizing—one that steals your time and saps your potential.
Begin to fill your heart and soul with art, achievements, and adventures of your own making.
Start boldly?
Throw your damn phone in the ocean, and then go for a swim. Throw your damn phone into a volcano (and your vape while you’re at it), and then continue your trek enjoying fresh air. Throw your damn phone off the highest mountain you can climb, and then walk down in peace.
Or start with smaller, more practical steps?
Crack open a new cookbook and lose yourself in the process of preparing a new meal. Dust off that old guitar in the corner and relearn the chords to that song that used to fill your heart with joy. Unearth your childhood sketchpad and drawing pencils, find a quiet spot, and capture the scene outside your window in rich charcoal. Lace up those worn running shoes, step out your front door, and feel the rhythm of your feet hitting the pavement as you jog around the neighborhood, even if it’s just for 10 minutes.
Write a few lines—maybe a poem, a story idea, or some thoughts in a journal. If the idea of performing intrigues you, jot down some jokes or a story for that open mic that’s been tempting you. Attend a meeting of any group that piques your curiosity, or start a small gathering with friends who share your interests. Learn a new word or phrase in a different language, join a beginner’s theater workshop, or volunteer for a cause for just an hour a week.
Remember, it’s okay to take small steps. Each small action brings you closer to a life filled with meaning and away from passive consumption. These can become the building blocks to bigger things, like starting a club on campus that gets you out the door so fast that you forget your phone. Or start that side hustle which might just save you from the corporate drudgery that looms (or at least sparks a fire in you that no middle-manager can extinguish). Few things feel better than creating something that didn’t exist before you decided it should.
The difference between dreams and fantasies is that dreams can come true.
So I ask you directly – which path will you choose? Will you continue to passively consume the curated lives of others, resigning yourself to a ‘Mittyesque’ existence of unfulfilled fantasies? Or will you heed the call to adventure, stepping out of your comfort zone to craft a life of remarkable, self-authored experiences?
The choice is yours. I challenge you to stop merely dreaming and start actively creating the story of your life. Throw away the screens, pick up a pen, and discover the hero that lies within. The world is waiting for the true you to emerge.
Onwards!
P.S. As you make plans to escape, I suggest making a playlist. Start with “Space Oddity” by David Bowie, “Dirty Paws” by Of Monsters and Men, and “Why Can’t I Touch It?” by the Buzzcocks. If you watch the movie, the significance of the first two songs will be obvious. The third is an Easter egg you might discover.