“Fear nothing, for every renewed effort raises all former failures into lessons, all sins into experience.” -Katherine Tingley

What truly defines good and evil?  This question has plagued mankind since the beginning of time.  Many believe killing thy neighbor is evil.  Yet, what if thy neighbor murdered thy sister?  This timeless search for truth in our actions and those of others has created a cyclical attempt to understand the essence of good and that of evil through the experience of both.  How, we ask, can one understand and embrace what good is if one has not experienced good in his own life?  The opposing argument, which some have claimed to be more cynical, is how one can understand evil if one has not experienced it.  The tentative truth, hard to accept as it is, remains in the experience of both good and evil through one’s actions; without the full understanding of both sides of the scale, one is unable to attain a balanced life.

         With this in mind, two more questions arise.  Can one evil deed erase a life of good?  Can one good deed erase a life of evil?  The answer, I believe, is yes.  Good deeds should be rewarded and evil deeds should be punished.  Yet, we must also keep my former argument in mind: one must experience both sides of the scale for balance.  The reward for good and the punishment for evil should exist, yet on an increment scale.  As we proceed through life, our initial wrongdoings should be chastised and our initial good deeds rewarded with an extra slice of pie at dinner, that is, until we are old enough to sense and understand what wrong and right are in the world.  That age, by U.S. law, has been decreed to be 18.  If an infant murders his or her parent, we do not send him or her to prison.  Instead, we teach this seemingly innocent child that he or she has committed an egregious wrongdoing.  Yet, over the age of 18, we agree that a child is no longer innocent and has experienced enough of both sides of the scale of good and evil to understand the meaning and consequences of an action.  Over the age of 18, the increments on the scale draw closer together.  One already has experienced what becomes of himself or of others who commit misdemeanors or good deeds, so punishment and reward should increase. 

         For example, if a 50-year-old Holocaust survivor has murdered a former Nazi soldier, should this one act of evil cancel out the good done throughout the survivor’s life and the suffering he or she went through at the hands of the soldier?  I do not think so.  Some misdemeanors are simply evil, and no argument against them will hold.  These are the offenses that fall under the Ten Commandments, the most prominent being murder.  An unforgivable offense is one in which something irreplaceable has been taken, in this case a life.  The punishment for taking a life on purpose (this excludes negligent homicide), after the age at which one understands the difference between wrong and right, should be severe.  In my opinion, once an individual takes that irreplaceable thing away from another, the latter has the right to take the irreplaceable thing from the former.  During the Holocaust, although this survivor did not physically die, his soul was beaten almost to the point of death.  As well, the soul of a rape victim has been beaten to the point of death.  These types of offenses are just as punishable by revenge as murder.  Past the age where one understands this type of wrong is unacceptable, he or she should receive extreme punishment, for their time of lenience in understanding basic human values has passed. 

         Establishing that evil should be punished, do we presuppose good should be rewarded after the childhood time of learning has passed?  I believe we should be.  However, a reward is not money, fame, or a material possession.  A reward is time: time to live, time to appreciate nature, and time to pass on the gift of life to others, figuratively and physically.  Once we understand how to make it through the day without harming others or doing wrong, we are allowed just that: to make it through the day.  Whatever allowed us to live, god or not, gave us the gift of life.  We only have the ability to take advantage of that life if we do not abuse it. 

         If we do abuse this privilege, punishment is a guarantee.  One might not feel it, but at some time, somewhere, guilt eats away at the human soul.  Guilt is human nature.  It literally eats one from the inside, out.  Doing good, even if the chance of punishment exists, still leaves the chance for life.  Life is such a sacred thing that experiencing even one month of it is a blessing and a reward.  Doing evil erases any chance of having a full life.  Doing good allows the chance.  The chance is all that matters.  Punishment for doing good is necessary.  How are we to appreciate the reward of life if all we know is the reward?  Ironic as it seems, the reward does not seem as special if it is all we know.  It merely seems like the norm.  Punishment at times, even more ironically, is a reward itself for allowing us to truly appreciate life. 

         I believe this is why God punishes Job.  Job does good to please God.  He sacrifices lambs on the altar for his children in case they have sinned to please God.  Yet, Job has never known suffering.  He has never known heartache.  When God appears out of the Whirlwind he asks Job, “Canst thou number the months…feed the raven…father the rain?”  Job realizes that he knows the meaning behind none of these events that determine his everyday life, making it go on.  He takes life for granted because he has known no barriers and no reason to question God and his surroundings.  God’s punishment is not for evil and is not evil.  It is to help Job become even more pure by appreciating the world in which he does good.  Those who seem to go through life smoothly, never having to study for a test or run faster to get to the ball, never are able to understand even the smallest essence of life’s meaning.  Sure, they have happy lives, but they are just that: happy.  Difficulty fosters passion and zeal for life.  The most important and influential lessons we learn are those we learn the hard way.  The good and the bad, the rain and the sunlight, the light and the dark define our lives.  Without rain we have no flowers, and without dark there is no appreciation of light.  In the words of Helen Keller, “character cannot be developed in ease and quiet.  Only through the experience of trial and suffering can the soul be strengthened, ambition inspired, and success achieved.” 

“Nothing great in the world has been accomplished without passion” -Georg Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel

The end of life is not necessarily death.  I consider the end of life the point at which one is no longer in touch with his or her passions or no longer on the journey towards fulfilling such passions.  What defines a life, in my opinion, is how people discover passion and how they make use of that passion every day.  In the words of Ursula K. LeGuin, “It is good to have an end to journey toward; but, it is the journey that matters, in the end.”

With this in mind, I want to travel to Italy for more than a month.  Italy truly has a place within my soul, even though I have never been.  As new structures are built on old sites, our entire society bases itself upon the discoveries, philosophies, and ethics of the classical world.  The flowing, green fields covering Verona, the crumbling Flavian Amphitheatre, situated in contrast to the modern city of Rome, and the museums floating along the waters of Venice all remind both humanity and me of how the past dictates the future.  If our future is to be something worthwhile, we should envelop ourselves in the nuances of the present.  Italy, for me, holds the future in its ancient marble and frescoes.  That a place can be so cultured with the ancient world and yet still move forward every day, using lessons from the past in the present and future, simply leaves me astounded.  Italy embodies an ability to balance the past, present, and future all within one culture, something humanity has rarely been able to conquer.  I think everyone should have a chance in life to experience this balance.

      In finding balance, one must make mistakes along the way.  In fact, balance for some might be a tipped scale for others.  While we might never be sure of what our absolute passions are, experimentation allows us to eliminate modes of thought or actions which do not follow in our specific line of passion.  Realizing that something is wrong for oneself, and learning from such mistakes, helps push one closer to discovering one’s own passions.   I want to make mistakes.  I want to be wrong.  If I am always right, what is the point of living?  If I know everything, what drives me to climb a mountain and see a new sight, or to taste a new food?  I would rather be in error nine times out of ten and draw closer to my purpose than to have the answer all the time and stay in limbo with no place to move towards and no dream to journey forward to.  Humanity would not have discovered the vaccine to polio without eliminating other vaccines that did not work.  Edison even commented, "I didn’t fail 1,000 times. The light bulb was an invention with 1,000 steps.”  No journey reaches an end if we know the end at the time of commencement.

      Through mistakes, we eliminate our dislikes and come to find the things in life we love.  Falling in love does not necessarily mean with another person.  One can fall in love with a language, a piece of art, an ocean, or even a novel.  I want to fall in love.  From what I have gathered so far, in my short seventeen years, when in love one acts instinctively, putting passion above all else.  I want to understand that feeling of instinct, setting aside all outside influences.  To know one’s true self is nearly impossible when surrounded by societal pressures.  Love seems to be the only way to eliminate such pressures.  To truly understand human nature, we must attempt to see how we act in an environment that creates a blank slate for us.  Humanity cannot understand its own origins in the public, open world.  Love seems to be the only way to obtain such a blank slate to discover such origins, in many ways allowing the processes of nature or nurture to run their respective courses. 

      While instinct defines how humans act without societal pressures, one way to project this instinct is in one’s own home.  A home defines who one is.  If we restrict a home to a house, the type of house one lives in, no matter if he is rich or poor, defines his passions.  Even if one lives in a cardboard box, he can make it his own by cutting shapes into it.  I want to own my own home and let it define me.  Within a home, one can be free from societal pressures.  A home is a place for free expression.  It is the one place in which conformity is only required if it is to one’s own ideas.  The ability to express one’s thoughts and passions freely is not allowed in many aspects of today’s society.  Finding a niche for expression along one’s journey through life allows one to test passion.  That is what redecorating your home is all about: testing passions, searching for the right fit and taking down wall colors that no longer define who you are or who you have become.

      All these things I want to do in life lead me down my journey to finding my passions, embracing every step of the way.  However, once I do find my passion, I want it to be my occupation.  I have noticed that in today’s society the color that paints one’s life is usually a gray hue.  We see people going to work every day in gray suits, sitting at a cardboard-box of a desk against whitewashed walls.  Their eyes do not light up when their computer turns on or throughout their daily commute of two hours on the packed train.  I do not want to complain of “going to work early” every morning.  I want to want to wake up at 6:30 A.M. to design a space for a work of art, write a song, or dig up the bone of a Neanderthal.  Unless our occupations fit into that niche of expression, unless our occupations express our hopes and dreams, as employees we will be nothing but a waste of space.  The reason humanity embodies such varying cultures and human beings is because nobody fits the same niche.  Nobody has the same exact passions.  I believe we will find the true meaning behind life when humanity as a whole follows their passions to the bitter end instead of refusing to learn from mistakes.  Humans must learn to paint their houses orange, even when the rest of the neighborhood is gray.  If not, we will forever remain in a sea of fog, never experiencing the brilliance of a rainbow.

Footprints in sand eventually wash away.

Humans can only determine truth by reducing the untruths of the universe.  This is the epitome of the scientific method.  Researchers, whether in a lab or through fieldwork, devise hypotheses to test theories.  When enough hypotheses prove constant, a theory develops.  This appears paradoxical to the idea of reducing untruths: hypotheses prove the truth, and a theory embodies the general principal of this truth.  However, by definition, a theory is a concept that scientists generally accept because no study has yet to prove it false.  New hypotheses, whether for or against the theory, are the attempts to prove it false, for nothing can prove a theory true in all circumstances: undiscovered exceptions always exist.  In this, truth lies in the search for fallacy and opposition to this truth.

The idea that “there is no permanence” manifests itself in human culture through the effort of humans to create permanence (106).  Humans, as everyday researchers, constantly test the theory of impermanence by attempting to falsify it through opposite observations, hypotheses, and conclusions.  That “no man’s name is written” in the forest of the cedars urges Gilgamesh to test the theory that the forest and its guardian are impenetrable (70).  By human nature, Gilgamesh composes a hypothesis claiming a well-known, commonly accepted theory as erroneous, in a greater effort to make his name permanently known.  That Gilgamesh feels the need to “establish [his] name on bricks” as a man who conquered the unknown shows, through his overconfidence, man’s need to comfort the fear of obscurity with the notion of permanence (70).  However, though Gilgamesh succeeds in the short-term in killing Humbaba, he dies in the end of the epic, ultimately enhancing the truth in the theory of impermanence in the long term through his efforts to falsify it.  Gilgamesh works so meticulously towards keeping his fame permanent, that he forgets that “the kingship, not everlasting life….was [his] destiny” (118).  He lives his life through the hope that people remember it and that it will create meaning within the lives of others.  However, since Gilgamesh created little to no meaning in his life during it, humans in the future have no basis to work with, and he should theoretically disappear from history.  In this, his failed search for permanence further reduced the opposition to impermanence.

As well, the art of the ancient Egyptians exemplifies the urge to create permanence against the will of nature.  Egyptian sculptures, such as those of Rameses II at Abu Simbel, were huge statues, essentially carved out of a mountain of sandstone, creating a sense of timeless fame and life of the dominating Pharaoh.  In addition, the tombs of the Egyptians and the idea of mummification enhanced the idea of the Egyptian afterlife, seen as more important than the current life.  In Rameses’ huge building project and the effort and time put into predicting and preparing for the afterlife, the hope for permanence causes humans to forget that “when the gods created man they allotted to him death, but life they retained in their own keeping” (102).   The Egyptians, whether they had an afterlife or not is forever unknown to us; that they spent the majority of their time on Pyramids and prayers to Osiris, the god of the Underworld, we understand.  In the attempt to prove impermanence as false, the security of the present life was lost.  In the effort to create timelessness, the time to live and create meaning in one’s own life, during one’s own life, slowly evaporated.

With this in mind, I suppose we gain meaning in life through the varying ways that we attempt to prove the theory of impermanence as false.  Some, like Gilgamesh, work only towards having “[his] name establish[ed] on bricks” (70).  To a selfish man like Gilgamesh, building his own name for future generations to know gave him meaning in life.  However, to others, many of whom we do not label as heroes, they attempt to prove impermanence false in leaving a lasting impression in others, rather than in history.  A small gesture of holding the door for another, adopting a child, or even helping a fellow classmate pick up his or her books when they fall in the hallway is how we test impermanence.  If one act can affect another human being, we have, through these lasting impressions left with others, created the highest degree of impermanence possible.  While these attempts to engrave our marks in time are clearly subtler than those of Gilgamesh, these create more meaning in the present.  If we do not have the resources, or perhaps even the heroic qualities, to test impermanence, we do so through our simple actions and the impressions others carry on with them of us after our interactions.  Yet, no matter how many people we affect or how many monuments go up in our honor, the truth remains that monuments eventually wither and crumble, and humans die.   

The majority of the human race, both in the past and present, have yet to live in the now, and always prepare for some goal in the future.  Yet, we create order and the sense of eternity through our goals for the future.  Every human has some type of goal, whether it is to get into college, to secure a job, or even to wake up in the morning.  Humans, by nature, create meaning in life off of their individual goals.  Life, after all, is a series of completed and failed goals.  The idea of proving impermanence false has manifested itself so deeply within the human mind, and is such a paramount aspect of human nature, that humans feed off of their goals for the future, rather than “going with the flow” and not thinking ahead.  We realistically cannot live solely in the present, “feast and rejoice, dance and be merry” without instinctively planning our next dance move or food to consume (102).  Thus, we embrace this constant working towards the future.  Every act in the present leads to another in the future, and every future act, once completed, becomes a part of the past.  The constant struggle between fleeting moments and lasting impressions makes up what we define as a human life.  We keep moving forward to secure these future moments, and as they disappear into the past, we enter into a vicious cycle of hope for a lasting moment.  Yet, the concept of a lasting moment is utterly impossible.  This cycle, ironically, moves humans forward through life, and is what keeps humans stable.  In the words of Charles Kettering, “My interest is in the future, because I am going to spend the rest of my life there.”

Assignment One

The etymology of hero, although conventionally derived from the Greek heros, defines the word as a cognate to the Latin servo, to preserve the whole.  Yet, a simple verb has millions of applications.  What is the whole this individual titled the hero is preserving?  Is this act of preservation selfless or one of necessity?  Who has the ability of preservation?  These are the questions cultures have sought to answer from the Epic of Gilgamesh to the Harry Potter series. 

         The common ground found in any epic such as The Odyssey, The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, Star Wars, The Lord of the Rings, or The Aeneid lies blatantly in a journey.  The recurring idea within these novels lies within the main character’s necessity to take this journey, rather than original desire or willingness to do so.  In classic epics such as The Odyssey and The Aeneid, Odysseus and Aeneas are forced by divine intervention to set off on a journey to reach their predestined homeland.  In Huckleberry Finn, on the crust of the novel’s plot it appears that Huck is choosing to escape from his society and choosing to take this journey toward his rightful state of mind, or homeland.  However, looking deeper into the core of the setting, we realize that Huck’s surrounding society has forced him into making the decision to seek happiness elsewhere.  Huck realizes that neither he nor his society would benefit were he to remain in his current setting.  Thus the decision to escape is essentially made for him by his surrounding elements.  Likewise, while Odysseus and Aeneas appear to have the decision to give up their roles as leaders and to simply stay put, accepting life as it is, the surrounding pressures from enemies and the gods alert them to the fact that they will never find happiness if they choose to avoid the journey.  Thus we find ourselves in a constant cycle of tension along with the protagonist as to whether he is making his own decisions or others are making them for him.  This cycle of tension between protagonist and environment, reader and protagonist, and reader and protagonist combined with environment leads into the essence of the definition of the hero and the whole he must preserve.

          Using the characters Aeneas, Odysseus, and Huck Finn as primary examples, we examine the hero in the context of his environment, factoring in the reader’s impression of the hero’s situation.  These protagonists, I would say, do accentuate the essence of what a hero is.  A hero is one who departs on a journey, not of his own will, but in response to environmental pressures.  What makes a hero so unique is that the author of the novel leads the reader to assume the hero has a choice in departing on his journey.  Aeneas of The Aeneid is forced by invading Greeks to leave Troy.  However, once he reaches the gates of the city, the surviving Trojans immediately look to him to be their leader and to take them out of their homeland and into a new world.  As the reader, we ask why Aeneas chose to take up this position of leadership.  He certainly could have rejected the leadership role and cared solely for his family.  Doing so, he might not have lost his father.  Yet Aeneas looks back and ahead at his option.  The divine hands of Mt. Olympus have only left one option for potential happiness for Aeneas, and that is to leave the city in search of a new land to populate with his ancestors and comrades.  The gods and fate have made Aeneas’ decision for him by destroying all other options.  That Aeneas chooses the “heroic” option does not make him a hero.  That he chooses the “heroic” option and heads out on his journey without regretting his decision or questioning his lack of other options is what does. 

              Odysseus and Huck Finn act in the same manner as Aeneas.  In Odysseus’ case the gods give him no other option but to journey far and wide to at last reach Ithaca.  Odysseus at no time regrets his cause or leadership position, and chooses to learn from his mistakes to become a bigger and better leader.  Likewise, Huck Finn’s society drives him away, forcing him to take a journey to find himself and look for happiness.  Huck does at one point reflect upon his saving of Jim.  However, he does not, in the end, regret doing so.  Instead he realizes that he has started this journey, so he must finish it with vigor and purpose.  Heroes are those who make the best of the situation their environment forces them into, preserving composure, and thus the whole of one’s essential character.

         In light of this definition, I see no reason why women cannot be heroes.  That women have not appeared in epic novels or classics in Western literature is no reason to suggest otherwise.  Only within the past 100 years of human civilization have women become prominent figures in the political arena, gaining the right to vote in America less than a century ago.  In the span of human writing and legend, this amount of time is miniscule.  Women, until now, were never seen as important figures in society, and thus never made their way into literature as the protagonist hero of classic novels. 

              To us, these heroes symbolize overcoming the struggles we, as humans, face in our everyday lives.  We must admit that our actions are controlled exclusively and essentially by our surroundings.  That these heroes to whom we look for wisdom are able to make the most of their situations, even when they have no choice in the matter, gives us hope.  Hope is what truly preserves the whole.  We must look at civilization today and those of thousands of years ago with the mindset of Pandora’s Box.  Humans are subject to mistakes of others and threats from the environment.  They face bribery, betrayal, jealousy, and gluttony.  However, even in this world of angst, enemies, and fear, the one constant in human nature is hope.  Hope is something divine hands cannot take away.  Hope is something a hurricane cannot destroy.  These heroes preserve the good in human nature and the promise of a progressive tomorrow because they have hope.  Hope completes the whole of humanity. 

               With this in mind, Bertolt Brecht’s statement "Unhappy the land that needs heroes” reflects upon the fact that in a land where humans must read about heroes to find hope, it is a sad fact that hope can be found in no other manner.  That society needs to invent characters to spawn hope in its citizens, rather than using an actual citizen as an example, is the unhappy truth.  However, the bright side remains that humans do find a way to experience the existence of hope, even though they cannot find it in their realistic world.  It has taken over 5,000 years of characters such as Aeneas, Odysseus, and Huckleberry Finn to preserve the whole of humanity, thus preserving the lack of control balanced with a sense of optimism and endurance.  These preservers of the whole have inspired a sense of continuity in all civilizations spawned from human nature.  These are the heroes who allow humans to realize that night is simply the introduction to the dawn.  To find the light we just need to run faster, reach farther, and climb higher, until we reach the peak of understanding.  That is when the heroes will rise from the paper and present themselves to the public, and the real story of heroes of everyday life will replace those fabricated into a fictional masterpiece.  We hope and wait for this day when the dawn comes, but until then we have the moon and stars to light our paths.