My first encounter with Cyborg was through the 'Teen Titans'

Hear the words of Ray Fisher, who once declared: “My first encounter with Cyborg was through the 'Teen Titans' cartoon.” At first glance, these words seem simple, a recollection of childhood memory. Yet within them lies the spark of a deeper truth—that the images and stories we meet in our youth can plant seeds within us, seeds that later shape our destiny. Fisher, who would one day embody Cyborg upon the great stage of cinema, first found him not in books, nor on the lips of critics, but in the bright colors and bold voices of a cartoon meant for the young. Thus, the circle of myth was completed: what once was inspiration became incarnation.

The ancients knew this truth well. The stories a child first hears are not idle amusements, but the foundation stones of imagination. To the Greeks, it was the myths of Heracles and Perseus; to the Norse, the sagas of Odin and Thor; to the modern youth, it may be the adventures of superheroes flashing across a screen. Fisher’s encounter with Teen Titans was more than entertainment—it was the stirring of recognition, the sense that within these characters lived something powerful, something to aspire to, something that spoke to his own journey as a boy growing into a man.

When Ray Fisher later donned the mantle of Cyborg in flesh and blood, it was as if the dream of the child met the calling of the adult. He became for others what once inspired him. This is no small thing, for the stories of youth shape not only private imagination but collective vision. Just as the tales of Achilles gave strength to Greek warriors, so too do modern heroes like Cyborg give courage to children who feel half-human, half-broken, or uncertain of their place. Fisher’s testimony reveals that even the smallest encounter—a cartoon watched in the quiet of a home—can one day ripple outward into destiny.

Consider the tale of Joan of Arc, who as a young girl heard stories of saints and visions of angels. To others, these were but distant legends, yet to her they became a living call. She, a peasant girl, rose to lead armies and alter the course of nations. So too with Fisher: the story he met as a child, unremarkable to many, became a compass that pointed him toward the role he was meant to play. What we encounter in innocence may lie dormant for years, until the hour comes when it awakens within us.

There is also a lesson here about representation. Cyborg, a hero who bore both human fragility and technological strength, was not the usual figure of legend. He was different, marked by struggle and transformation. For Fisher, seeing such a character as a youth was proof that heroes need not all look the same, nor come from the same mold. This is why the stories we tell matter: because they expand the vision of what a hero can be. Just as children of Rome once looked to Romulus, or the children of Africa to Anansi, so too do modern children look to heroes like Cyborg—and in them, they find themselves reflected.

The meaning for us, then, is profound: guard what stories you place before the young, for they are seeds of destiny. Encourage them to find heroes not only in ancient legends but in the art of their time. And if you yourself are grown, remember the heroes of your youth, for they may still hold keys to your path. As Fisher’s journey shows, what first inspired you may return later in life, calling you to embody what you once admired.

Therefore, take this wisdom into your life: cherish the stories that stir your soul, whether they come from cartoons, books, or the ancient sagas. Let them remind you of who you are and who you may yet become. Share them with others, for what was once your private flame may become the guiding torch for another. For in the words of Ray Fisher, a simple encounter with a hero of fiction became the soil from which a destiny of truth was born. And so it is with all of us—our first encounters with greatness, however humble, may shape the greatness we one day give to the world.