“A nation as a society forms a moral person, and every member of it is personally responsible for his society” -Thomas Jefferson

         Every individual is just that:  an individual.  Our thoughts are unique, our consciences differed, and our decisions idiosyncratic.  However, as humans began interacting, they realized certain situations only had so many varying approaches.  Humans find comfort in commonality and companionship.  When such was found, factions began to form, systems evolved to suit these general desires, and civilization was defined.  Society is the result of the human desire and need for commonality. 

         Societies themselves resemble individuals.  An American society is much different than an Oceanic society.  This is most visibly understood through the art produced, clothing worn, government systems abided by, and family values upheld.  Individuals in these regions adapted their lifestyles to the climates and locations of their homelands, and their societies developed according to the common beliefs these locations spawned.  We should define a society, then, as what the majority of its inhabitants declare as right and beneficial in their opinions.  We then must ask why, in many societies, the poor are the majority and do not reap the benefits the society offers.  This question exemplifies why we are beholden to society.  Society is the constant hope of the majority for improvement and satisfaction.  The poor’s sole hope lies in society, for society itself is the only thing that has the possibility of uplifting their suffering.   The middle class, if it exists, is beholden to society because, many times, those in the middle class exemplify society’s ability to uplift the suffering of the poor.  Many middle class individuals are the product of the opportunities society holds for the poor coming to life and working in their favor.  The upper class is beholden to society because it has the direct ability to define society’s values.  Money does, in many societies, make the world go around. 

         A society is like a painting; few artists have the ability to project their exact thoughts onto a surface.  An ideal society is the closest portrayal of human thought, using many different paints and surfaces to produce the most aesthetically pleasing overall effect.  Each human in a society has the ability to add his or her shade of color to the mix.  Yet, it has been proven time and time again that while one color may take over the picture, it eventually chips away to reveal the underlying shades.  In our obligation to contribute our paint to the canvas, the canvas holds the obligation of a pleasing effect to the viewer.  We paint with the hope that our individual brushstrokes cross paths with others to create a stronger effect in our favor than a sole line of color could ever produce.  In our contributions to society, society must, ideally, come through for us at some point.  The cycle of what is beholden to whom is in the efforts we put into society and the effects it produces for us.  Thus, the painting is never finished; where pieces chip off, we repaint them with new brushstrokes in the hope of either blending into the background or beginning a new color scheme.

         Yet, there are always those who realize the poor’s faith in society to bring them up is not enough to truly complete the desired action.  There are circumstances when human idiosyncrasies individualize them from society’s general beliefs and right within a system seems synonymous to wrong.  I bring up Susan B. Anthony and the women’s suffrage movement.  We must not consider the poor only those who lack money, but those who are downtrodden and seen as weak in society.  Those with power deemed women unable to vote and inferior to men.  Society was based on male dominance in most aspects of life.  So, Susan objected.  She protested against the documented laws of United States and the unwritten laws of American society.  She waited in poll lines to cast her ballot because her ideas of what was “right” and “beneficial” contrasted with those of society.  The Civil Rights movement followed the same pattern.  Blacks had no rights even though they lived in the same locations and were just as human as whites.  Society did not allow for their freedom let alone opportunity for freedom.  So, like Anthony, they protested.  They made different colored brush strokes on a canvas whose color scheme did not match the new designs.   

         Ironically, these movements rose through the same mechanisms their society had risen with.  They were individuals who had, what they thought, unique dreams and hopes.  They found others who thought their hopes unique as well.  Eventually, a faction formed and ideas for a new type of society flourished, slowly at first, but then like wildfire.  Like the creation of oil paint, once one individual realized the colors could be brighter and paint could stay wet longer, he attempted to sell it to others.  The new method of painting seemed logical to him.  Few would try the new paint because humans fear change.  However, once word of the new paint spread, many would begin using it and oil paint would become the new norm of society.  It would soon be replaced by photography, film, and interactive art forms.  Nobody knows what art will come next.  Society gives us all the ability to answer that question.  

“Success builds character, failure reveals it” - Dave Checkett

     “If you don’t get lost, there’s a chance you may never be found.”  I do not know who said this quotation.  In fact, the speaker him or herself might not even know.  That’s the thing about quotations:  their meanings change.  Understanding thyself follows the same irony.  Who one is at birth is much different than who one is in seventh grade, at one’s wedding, and on one’s deathbed.  The farther we walk along life’s journey, the deeper we delve into ourselves, finding that the potholes and dead ends slowing us down along the way just might end up sending us down the right path.

     To know oneself, at one time or another, is to know what one lives for, that is to say what one’s purpose is for waking up every morning and getting out of bed.  If one is ill, one’s purpose at the time might be just that: to find the willpower to get up for another day.  It might be a long-term goal, such as getting into college.  It might be to find food for oneself or one’s family.  Whatever keeps one walking along the journey of life defines who one is.  This is not to say that getting into college defines an individual.  The emotions behind the initial purpose for getting out of bed in the morning are the true definition.  If one hopes to go to college to please one’s parents, at that point in life that individual is submissive.  If one hopes to attend college to find the cure for cancer, outreach and hope define that individual.  All actions in life can be and are simplified to an emotion.  The choice to accept or reject the particular emotion along one’s journey is an act of knowing oneself. 

     What if the emotion or action leads to a dead end or pothole?  Did one, then, not know oneself?  I do not believe so on one condition: if the individual understands why the emotion was wrong to harness and learns from one’s mistakes.  So, in most cases, knowing oneself is also having the ability to understand what one is not and what one should not be (according to one’s own morals, not society) until one comes across the correct path to take at the fork in the road, rather than giving up at dead ends. 

     The value of understanding oneself is not an eternal glory, but rather a fleeting privilege.  This stems from the fact that knowing oneself changes every time we turn a corner.  If one can grasp the moments in which he fully understands himself, one can truly appreciate life.  Life itself is made up of the little moments of realization, those instances when we understand our purposes.  These moments are our most vivid memories.  They are the memories of the emotions that triggered the realization of purpose.  We remember getting the acceptance letter to a university for the emotion of happiness, for one’s journey has been furthered.  We remember the rejection letter for the sense of dejection, for we seem to have reached a dead end.  Yet, having the ability to remember the rejection with knowledge that one moved on and accepted a different path is what defines the value of knowing oneself.  With confidence in one’s character, one has the ability to move around barriers.  One has the courage to get lost along the way.    

     Our weaknesses allow us the chance to get lost.  Lately, I have determined that my greatest weakness is taking advice from others, acknowledging that my way of doing something might not be the best.  I relate this, specifically, to writing my college essays.  I take my writing very personally.  I used to think that when I wrote the first draft and loved it there was no more work to be done.  The essay was my essence.  College essays do not follow that mindset in the least.  I would accept the comments of my tutor to change this idea or to throw in more metaphors, simply because she was my tutor and I trusted that she knew what she was doing in the college process.  However, once my mother and father began reading my essays to do the final check for understanding and grammar they began giving me some ideas to push my essays further.  I mainly accepted my father’s advice for he is lawyer:  writing is his job.  The struggle came with my mother, the architect.  At first, I ignorantly rejected all her ideas, claiming she didn’t understand individualized writing due to her math-focused career.  I rejected her ideas claiming if I added them into my essay, the essay would not be from me and I would be cheating the system.  I rejected her ideas because deep-down I knew, most of the time, she was right:  I could delve into a topic more and I could make the third topic sentence sound more like me.  I was unable to accept the fact that my writing, however important or personal it was to me, could improve.  Every time I would ask her to read an essay, I set myself up for the struggle to follow.  I asked her to read the essays to prove that my ideas were best and hers were inferior.  Yet, she would always have a comment, and the comment would be right the majority of the time.  So, I began what I thought to be giving in under pressure.  I took her advice and reworked my essay, keeping her idea in mind.  Yet, I would not let go of my writing voice and my main purpose.  It was then that I started seeing how wrong I had been.  My essays were improving.  Yet, they were not doing so because of the actual ideas she threw out.  They improved because I began rewriting my drafts, understanding that my initial thoughts could always alter.  I also began to realize why I wanted to go to college.  It was not to please my parents or relatives.  It was not to get a better job afterwards.  It was to turn my weaknesses into strengths:  I needed to surround myself with people whose ideas were just as good, and many times much better than my own.  In an advanced college community, rejecting the opinions of others will get you nowhere.  One is almost obligated to collaborate to find the new computer chip or to understand Aristotle.  The entire college process, as tedious as it has been, has taught me about my true weaknesses.  I am so thankful it did.

     My greatest strength is found within my greatest weakness.  I am extremely motivated and will complete every action to the best of my ability.  If I have done so and understand that I put all of me into something, then I am happy.  That is not to say that I am happy with failure.  If I have put everything I have into a task and “fail,” I do not give up.  I try new approaches or move on.  But I do not give up.  This leads to my greatest weakness many times, for I am so “gung-ho” for my own ideas that I, at times, do not listen to those of others.  Yet, I would rather have this strength any day and have to combat the weakness that goes along with it.  On the topic of the college process, I have not given up.  The amount of work one has to do to even be considered for a great college today amazes me.  Last year, I would wake up every Saturday morning at 8:00 to simulate a real SAT or ACT.  I took each of these tests twice, understanding that I did my best the first time, but knowing that if I dug deeper I could do better.  This fall I wrote my essays, played varsity field hockey, was captain of the debate team, babysat, and did my schoolwork.  I did not give up any of these tasks, even though putting my all into each one at the same time was stressful to say the least.  But, I committed to each, and would not give that commitment up, even though it became more difficult to balance all these activities as the year went on.  I made sure I did each to the best of my ability.  I took leadership roles on every team, stayed up extremely late to study, and found time to write essays.  I do not regret a single hour of sleep lost.  I have learned so much about myself this past fall.  I know now that if I want to get something done, I will, and I will do it well.  Yet, I have also learned that my way is not always the best way to get something done.  Listening to the opinions of others and connecting two ideas further humans along their own journeys. 

     Discussing and writing about my strengths and weaknesses is a difficult task.  I think this is mainly because I do not truly know myself yet.  I am finding out who I am, and my strengths one day might be my weaknesses the next.  I am afraid to signify a weakness because I am afraid that I will not know how to turn it into a strength.  I am afraid to discuss what I believe to be my strengths because certainty is fleeting in anyone’s life, especially that of a 17-year-old girl.  However, the most difficult tasks are the ones which teach us the most about ourselves and the society in which we live.  Sometimes the best things for us are those which seem to hurt the most at the time.  Yet, we cannot focus solely on putting one foot in front of the other.  We must think about what will happen once we reach a fork in the road or a pothole.  We must also think about the end of our journeys, if they even have an end at all.  Walking on a broken leg will not make it heal.  Yet, if we wait, contemplating how to run again, time will heal the leg enough to allow us to begin walking again.  Weaknesses do not turn into strengths in a day or even seven years.  Strengths could turn into weaknesses in a millisecond.  How we approach these twists and shifts defines who we are and who we strive to be.  Giving up in the face of failure might allow one to walk again, but dancing might never be possible. 

“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.