12 Everything I Needed to Know About the Helping Profession, I Learned from the Legend of Zelda

A view of the Pacific Ocean from a cliffside outside San Diego, California.

There’s a classic video game series called The Legend of Zelda that many of you will be familiar with. Even if you are not familiar with the games, or you’ve never played a video game in your life, I think the points here will still be well taken.

Most of the games in the Zelda series have a similar rhythm to them. They begin with a rather slow grind through a large, unfamiliar world. Your hero, named Link in the series, begins with almost no abilities, a shabby set of clothes, and a sense of being almost overwhelmed with the task ahead of him. However, he also greets the world with a kind of raw naivete and ambition that allows him to dive head-first into any obstacle he faces.

It’s easy to see how this game serves as a useful metaphor for life, and I think particularly for the field we have all chosen to work in. As new helpers, we are faced with almost insurmountable odds: a system with deep flaws, colleagues with a deep sense of weariness, and clients with deep wounds. We ourselves often bring many scars into the battle with us. And those early days and months in our work can feel like the slow grind of Link searching everywhere for allies, tools, and those tricks of the trade that help us all succeed.

As you might have guessed, I have played most of the Zelda games at some point in my life, and I find my own reaction to them is similar each time. Upon first beginning, I face the game with a sense of excitement and the belief that I will be able to conquer everything within the game eventually. However, it takes many hours of gameplay just to establish a few basic skills and begin to get a sense of the world that you’re in.

I find I hit a wall around that point where I question how much investment I actually want to put into the game. Is it worth all of this struggle? And then as I push through a little further, I start to gain a bit of traction. My weapons and tools get a little better; my abilities, a touch stronger; my sense of the world a little clearer. The game is still not easy at this point. In fact, the difficulty of the game typically has risen in concert with my newfound abilities. I find that I have just enough confidence and willingness to keep going a little further, to invest a bit more time and energy into seeing what comes next.

One of the player’s major, perhaps most important, assets is sheer curiosity. As you explore more spaces, talk to more people, experiment with what your character can do, the game rewards you. You. You make new discoveries that make the journey a little easier, and a little more fun. This in turn propels you forward into the next battle or exploration of a new territory.

After a significant amount of time has passed, literally dozens of hours. In the case of most of these games, you finally feel a sense of having mastered the craft of playing the game. You know when to fight and when to run. You know where to find the items you need to help your character. You understand the lay of the land and both literally and figuratively where you are headed next in the game.

Hickory Nut Fall waterfall in North Carolina.

I’d equate this process with my own maturity through the helping field, and I would anticipate that for many of you that journey will mirror my own. Own. But you will dive in initially with a sense of eagerness and optimism. That’s a wonderful beginning point, it’s exactly where you should be.

As you begin to meet obstacles and realize that your training and education were only a cursory introduction to what you need to be successful, it can feel extremely frustrating. You may find difficult situations that don’t have simple or neat resolutions. You may get frustrated at the inability to help every client who encounter.

These are normal parts of your development. This is the grinding stage, the wall you have to push through and beyond in order to get closer to mastery, even if you never fully reach that point.

You will find that you have allies along the way, wonderful colleagues and supervisors and clients who make it worthwhile. He’ll discover new tools, from a combination of sources that includes training, supervision, and some trial and error. You will learn where to look for what you need.

On a related note, my son has recently begun to play video games, and it turns out he is really good at them. In fact, I admire the approach he brings to games. Below is a reflection on why my 6-year-old is a better video game player than I am:

#1: He’s not afraid to fail

#2: He doesn’t get discouraged; if he isn’t successful, he instantly tries again over and over

#3: He isn’t bound by trying to do it a certain way like he has in the past; he isn’t afraid to try a new method or solution

#4: He’s genuinely curious; he wants to know what comes next

These attitudes and approaches are remarkably effective when it comes to video gaming, but they also translate well into effective counseling practice and toward the development of new, healthy behaviors.

I can learn a lot from this philosophy, both for my own benefit and as a method that can work for many others. As mentioned several other times, we as helping professionals are role models to others. We need to embrace the same advice that we dispense in our work and not be afraid to challenge ourselves to continue growing.

If we expect our clients to do the same, it’s in fact a necessity.

 

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The Helper's Compass Copyright © 2023 by Jason Florin is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License, except where otherwise noted.

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