Oedipus and Antigone Test

1.

If fate is how one’s path is actually determined it would not be possible to alter fate through free will.  In a world where fate controls all, free will can be had in a superficial sense.  What is perceived as choice, would in actuality, be a predetermined decision decided by fate.  There is no way to cheat or change fate because every attempted juke, escape, or evasion is already expected and accounted for by the higher power who determined said destiny.

In a world without fate, where free will governs all, futures can be changed and paths can be adjusted.  If someone desires a car, they can go buy the car they want, if someone wants to climb a mountain, they can try.  However in any instance where free will seems to be determining, it could be argued that fate had planned the choices and results all along.  Even in this free will controlled world wouldn’t certain things still be decided by fate?  Can free will explain a person’s situation at birth?  It must be fate that decides an individual’s initial wealth, poverty, gender, complexion, and background.  However it was the parents of the individual’s choice to procreate.

The real world is likely governed by both free will and fate.  Acts, such as, being lazy, working hard, or being polite are all freely done.  The repercussions from the prior actions is where fate comes in.  For example, if a poor old beggar is graciously taken in, they may pay back the person who housed them if they become successful later on.  It may be free will that makes the person give the beggar a home, but they have no control whether or not the beggar becomes successful, reverts to his former state, or even dies.

2.

It is not usually OK to lie.  In general, the truth will hurt less than lies.  However, there are times when lying is the only option and is the considerate thing to do.  When accused, lying is one of the most viable options, if someone can be thrown under the bus for self benefit it’s easy to do, but this kind of behavior must be avoided for the sake of morality and a clear conscience.

In some cases, lying is best for the conscience.  I have a friend who was caught with various bits of stolen state property.  When caught, he lied, and told the police officer he had stolen all of the merchandise.  In actuality his friends stole the majority of the property and he lied to protect them.  This was a truly selfless act, achieved through lies.

Personally I have been lied to before.  It’s very troubling when a lie is transparent but the truth cannot be known.  Nobody likes to be deceived, when I ask a question I want a truthful answer, not some sugarcoated lie.  Although the truth can be painful, it helps people grow and better themselves.  Even if lying creates less pain initially it will result in misguided growth, which can ultimately destroy a person.

3.

Sigmund Freud’s Oedipus complex is the childhood desire to sleep with one’s mother and kill the father.  The complex is named after an ancient Greek play written by Sophocles where a man by the name of Oedipus, through various twists of fate, ends up killing his father and bedding his mother.  Within the Oedipus complex there is some truth.

The Oedipus complex consists of 5 stages of human sexual development.  Starting with the oral phase and ending with the genital phase.  There is truth to some of these phases, such as the “latency period” when a child’s sexual development is suspended and the focus is more on the assertion of independence.  This stage explains much of the gender separation present within groups of children ranging from ages 7 to 12.  It also parallels with the preteen desire to separate from their parents, especially in public.

However, not all of the Oedipus complex seems like truth.  For example the second and third stages of sexual development where children begin to admire their feces and later find emptying their bladders pleasurable seem questionable.  Young children, when first trained to properly use a toilet are overjoyed at their first poop, Freud says this happiness is due to the fact the child has, “created something of his or her own”.  This assertion is questionable, couldn’t the child’s happiness be due to the fact they completed a task and did something right?  The third stage, when children find urinating pleasurable is also questionable.  The child could simply be happy they are no longer burdened with a full bladder.  Also the child must have experienced urination prior to year 4, they must have understood its usefulness then.

4.

Antigone’s determination and resolve is unmatched within the Theban royalty of the Oedipus trilogy.  Antigone gets the courage to break the law and risk death from her feeling of being inferior due to her looks. She wants to do something that will make her better than her beautiful sister Ismene, who refuses to disobey Creon, also, she felt it right for her brother to be buried.

People follow rules every day.  Many break the law and even sometimes bend it.  At the High School there are many rules.  I frequently break the rule requiring students to carry a hall pass indicating where they are going.  I break it because, quite simply, it is not enforced.  I also see it as unnecessary, why make students, especially well behaved ones, waste time filling out a slip of paper when they’ll be back in 5 minutes?  I don’t just break rules nonchalantly, the rule has to be either worthless or worth breaking for convenience.

One rule I bend is the cell-phone policy, technically students are never supposed to use them over the course of the day.  I figure, as long as I only use it at break, study, and lunch, it should be allowed, as long as it’s not being used disrespectfully in opposition to a specific classroom’s rules.  I only bend rules when they seem a little too strict.  If they serve a purpose, but not all the time, they are worth bending.

I follow many more rules than I break and bend because I understand their respective purposes.  I follow the rule of not using drugs because I understand their malicious potential and why they are banned.  A fair law is one that not only serves a purpose, but can be applied to any situation equally.  An unfair law is one that serves a purpose, but the purpose it serves is either outdated of less important than what it prohibits.

Siddhartha Comes to New England

“All the way from India?”, I asked.

“The path is not always short, but I listened to the ocean, its voice changed daily, I found worth in my travel. I learned much from listening to the water in the deep sea,” answered Siddhartha.

“Oh, I almost forgot, you lived by the river as a ferryman (pg. 139) and learned from the river, I assumed the Ocean wouldn’t have a voice. It must’ve taken weeks to come to America by boat!”

“Time does not exist when time is just an illusion to contemplate (107).”

“Everything you say is intriguing, almost riddle like.”

“On the path to enlightenment the world seems that way.”

Later when we got back to my home I told Siddhartha where we would be visiting. He was very exited about my first suggestion but hesitant on the second.

“I mustn’t return to a place of dice playing and nausea (82),” pleaded Siddhartha

“Sometimes it’s good to go back, just to see what it is like from a different perspective,” I explained.

“You are right Nate I do have a new, and different perspective, it may be helpful.”
After about an hours drive we finally arrived at a parking lot near the woods. As we journeyed through the forest Siddhartha experienced some déjà-vu.

“This reminds me of my time as an ascetic, as a samana,” He said, “I learned to master my body and mind, neither hunger nor time could stop my quest.”

“I can’t even imagine living in the forest without supplies or food for a week let alone a few years. You must have been very determined.” I said.

Eventually we arrived at the true destination, Bash Bish Waterfall. Siddhartha was amazed at the peacefulness of the setting. The Waterfall was not even a mile inland from the busy street we had once been on. After a bit of quiet meditation Siddhartha spoke.

“The water has a clear voice, but it is delivering an almost cryptic message.”

“What is it saying?” I inquired.

“Fallen.” Siddhartha said, and a long pause ensued.

“Are you sure?”

“I am sure, the wise old ferryman taught me well, he taught me how to listen(106) and I have made no mistake, the waterfall says fallen.”

“I do not doubt your skill, but I wanted to be sure, there is an old tale about this waterfall. A Native American girl once jumped off the cliff in distress during her day, I should have known this might be unsettling.”

“No, it is good, I have learned that water can carry even unsettling messages.”

The next day, I told Siddhartha it was time to go to Mohegan Sun. Unlike the last time I told him, he was excited.

“I can’t wait to see this world from an alternate perspective!”

“I’m glad to see you have no reservations about this venture,” I replied excitedly.

When we arrived at the Casino the lights and sounds filled our eyes and ears. We walked past tables of gamblers, some winning big, some losing large. Siddhartha spoke.

“This reminds me of the anxiety I so readily felt back in the city, the anxiety I always sought so hard to renew, the anxiety(79) that buried my old self but also humbled it for when I dug it up from its premature grave on the fateful day by the river.”

“So do you enjoy this reminiscing?”

“Yes, very much so, it was the turning point in my life, and I had since sought to forget that life, but now, I embrace it, it brought me to enlightenment.”

When it was time to say goodbye to Siddhartha I was sad. His internal happiness often made me smile and feel happy myself(151-152). His happiness exuded to those around him and everyone he met was also sad to see him go. As I thought about my trips with Siddhartha I realized neither resulted in the same way I expected.

I expected the trip to the waterfall would make Siddhartha happy, to make him gleam with happiness, but contrarily, he was mildly disturbed. However he learned from something, the water, something he had spent so much time with in the past once again.

The casino was interesting as well, I expected Siddhartha to be uncomfortable, uneasy about being in a place filled with gambling. I figured it would remind him of the darkest days of his life, instead it made him truly realize they were some of the most life altering he had ever had.

The Unkown

Author's Note: I chose this essay above the other two because I had a good time writing it. I felt that it was the best written and most original of my three essays. I think my essay uses unique words effectively, however I think my essay might take too long to get to the point. After reading my essay is it clear that I enjoy nature, the mystery of unknown places, and reading and writing fiction?

About a week ago the landscape was a wasteland, dried grass and leafless trees were commonplace. Now however, little green buds spot the trees which stood dormant for the last 3 months. The grass is a tinge of green. Spring has begun.

In a few weeks the buds have opened and the trees have filled their branches with adolescent leaves. The grass now has significant color and life flows through the landscape. This time of year is one of the best times for a hike.

The hillside forest is quiet as I travel upwards, through the hills, occasionally trailblazing and finding a new path. The clean, cool air fills my lungs rejuvenating my body as the world around me continues its renaissance.

When I reach the peak, I stand on one a rock protruding from the mountain. I look out at the valley below and see a vast wilderness. I see an abundance of trees, a winding river, and perhaps a few little open fields. This is the world that interests me. The uncharted world, the untrodden path, the road less traveled, beckons, perhaps leading to a secret world, or a long forgotten relic.

On the other side of the mountain there lies a town in stark contrast with mysterious wilds present just a few miles away. It’s a shame the known has replaced the unknown. If there is nothing that is unknown, how can we dream, imagine and think about what there might be out there.

New ideas are spawned from a lack of knowing. Children’s dreams yield the most interesting fantasies. Their minds constantly invent things to fill the holes that their real world knowledge cannot. They are not skeptics, they are believers. Imagination is something that needs to be preserved, without it the world cannot have vision.

There is however one remedy to knowledge and that is fiction. Stories can bring optimism, and evoke creativity. The reading and construction of an exceptional work of fantasy or science fiction should be something that is savored, an escape from the restraining confines of reality.

The downward return journey from the top of the mountain is short. The quick descent reminds me of how fast things can change and encourages me to live my life both in the moment and looking forward.

Assignment #2, Love (27-30); Spin (31-38)

After reading the second chapter of The Things They Carried I couldn’t believe Jimmy Cross still loved Martha. It was incredible that even though she showed no emotion towards Jimmy he still loved her. Even though his wandering thoughts about her cost Lavender his life and even though he had no chance with her, he still loved her. It is sad to think Jimmy may live his whole live hoping Martha will love him back.

I like the way the O’Brien switched the setting, both away from Vietnam and into the future. It was a very good way of focusing more on Lieutenant Cross and how his life turned out. O’Brien could have added suspense and held out on further information until the end of the book, but the book isn’t just about Lieutenant Cross and Martha. It will be interesting to see if Lieutenant Cross actually does manage to become a more focused leader as the book continues.

I pictured in my head a montage of memories after reading chapter 3. The way O’Brien remembers the majority of the war is quite interesting. The eclectic excerpts like the recollection of a one legged Vietnamese child and inter-squad jokes paint a bigger picture. Together all these memories create an image of the Vietnam War, an alternative image that highlights the relatively non-violent aspects of these soldiers’ downtime periods.

I’d like to learn more about what happened at the end of Chapter 3. Near the end of chapter 3 there is a series of memories. The outside of a village, a hand grenade, a dead malnourished young man, and Kiowa’s three lines of dialogue that follow indicate something traumatic that happened. I can only assume Tim O’Brien, threw the grenade into the village and unintentionally killed the probably innocent poor man. Perhaps this is one of the things he has to carry forever.

Assignment #1, The Things They Carried (1-26)

(1.)

Like the soldiers in The Things They Carried, I would carry something tangible if I were in a war or war-like situation. Besides standard issue gear and necessities I wouldn’t carry many physical items. I would carry a picture of my family. I might also carry interesting pieces of literature like newspaper articles or a favorite book.

I would carry the picture of my family to always remember they were back home and remind me if I ever lost hope that I had something to live for. I might bring interesting thought provoking literature to take my mind off the current situation. Sometimes it’s best not to think of the danger you’re in, and when that peril is glaring, you need something to help distract you.

The photo of my family would be symbolic of how I would carry my family with me. My family is the most important thing in the world for me and if I ever were to forget about them I may lose hope. Literature is important because reading can be an escape from reality. When there is no television or games to distract you from reality, books can be a good substitute.

(2.)

Aside from tangible items, I would also carry intangible items. Something intangible I might carry would be memories. Things like dinner with my family, or playing baseball with the blue sky overhead. Perhaps even the memory of the feelings associated with victory or success.

The memories of baseball and family dinner would be relaxing, a reminder of the peaceful world that exists back home. It would be a good defense against the belief that gruesome war is the true, real world. Lastly in a war like Vietnam or Afghanistan there aren’t many obvious, decisive victories and the memory of what victory or success feels like could somewhat supplement its absence thereof.

Into the Hindu Kush

(The Tiger & The Kite Runner)

Trush stepped down from his Kung, now appearing out of place on the dry, Afghani soil where he and his brothers fought so long ago. It took a lot for Yuri to leave his quiet home near Primorye, but this trip was important. He was no longer a member of Inspection Tiger but he remained worried about Udege Legend, the federal park that to this day, he still patrols. With loaded rifle in hand Trush hurried inside the mud stained, dilapidated dwelling he had parked outside. Inside was a stout Pakistani man, seeing that the informant was unarmed Trush set his gun down by the door.

Trush was called by the American embassy in Moscow to complete a special mission. This mission, however, was oddly labeled, “of minimum importance” and the text that followed was minimalist, “The assignment, should you accept it, is to travel into Afghanistan and retrieve an American novelist.” Yuri accepted the assignment because of the reward, two million U.S. dollars. With that money he could improve his ability to watch over the federal park’s territory, and increase the tiger’s chance of regaining its prominence in the Russian wilderness. He assumed the Americans had called him, an aging, federally employed Russian Taiga patrolman, because he was generally familiar with the area from his time in the Soviet-Afghan war. The truth of the matter was that 30 others had been called upon but refused to accept the dangerous job, Washington was just steps away from calling in a seal team.

“His name is Amir, he came back to Afghanistan to seek inspiration for a new book,” explained the informant from across the rickety plywood table.

“Any leads on where to start looking?” inquired Trush.

“Does it matter? You’re good as dead, the Taliban still remain throughout these hills.” The informant frowned, his wrinkled, beard enshrouded face, seemed almost depressed by the prospect of another lost man.

Trush made it clear that he was the proper man for the job, “Have you ever looked a tiger in the eyes? Have you ever experienced the true heart shaking fear that comes from the distinct sound of their death growls, the ones they make just before they go in for the kill? I’m used to a sleuthing silent threat, I can become the predator, if need be. I’m sure this Taliban will be a careless bunch, their tracks will be like a map to their plans, daily routines, patterns. I’m better prepared than any military operatives, just tell me where to go to find Amir, and I’ll bring him back.”

“He is somewhere in the Hindu Kush, good luck finding him…”said the informer doubtfully.

After thanking the informant Trush was on his way, travelling by Kung towards the Hindu Kush. Yuri was wary of the threat the Taliban posed in the region, but he hadn’t known the mission would take place in the Hindu Kush, and this changed everything. He had weeks worth of food and fuel and a small arsenal of weaponry delivered to him for this job while he was still in Russia. Grenades, rockets, and military grade rifles filled the Kung. Now when he reached the Hindu Kush the Kung would have to be abandoned and hidden somewhere not even the Taliban would find it, a tough task in a mountain range most insurgents knew like the back of their hand.

When Trush reached the base of the mountains he looked for an area to stow the Kung. He managed to park it in a ditch and covered it with a few branches, it looked a bit out of the ordinary, but it was the best he could do. Trush took a backpack with food and other necessities along with a reliable AK Soviet issue rifle, and a few grenades for good measure and began on his way through the Hindu Kush.

Throughout the following week Trush kept a low profile, there were some close encounters, but for the most part he went unnoticed through the mountain range. Running low on options Yuri made way towards a makeshift Taliban camp in a mountainside alcove. Finding a spot close enough to listen he risked it all, running from rock to rock until he reacted his desired position. Spectacularly he went unnoticed, but then again, these insurgents lacked the sharp instincts of a tiger. While listening in on the camping men, he got word of a settlement somewhere atop the Hindu Kush, where they were keeping prisoners in the shattering cold. Trush didn’t think such a settlement could exist atop the Hindu Kush, but if one did, it would be very easy to find.

* * *

The snow was all too familiar to Yuri Trush, crunching under his careful feet, he knew if he was close he needed to watch for mines. Noticing the shift in wind patterns Yuri thought he might be close. As he reached the crest of part of the mountain he spotted a dome shaped metal building. There were two patrolling guards on the outside both wearing thick, fur filled, parkas. Trush took them out at a distance utilizing the howling wind and low visibility to conceal his shots. Soon he was inside the headquarters, it was no labyrinth, just a simple underground prison with minimal Taliban presence, all of the cells appeared empty. Eventually after a good amount of sneaking around Yuri found what he was looking for, Amir’s cell. Astoundingly Amir was present inside the cell, sleeping on a cement bed. Trush hurried into a room containing a cache of keys and found one with the number matching that of Amir’s cell. After opening the door, Amir awoke within a second, quickly he recognized Yuri wasn’t a member of the Taliban.

“Are you Amir?” asked Yuri.

“Yes,” Amir replied in a tired voice.

It looked like he had been beaten and starved, his arms and legs were bloodstained and his eyes black. “I haven’t felt this broken down since my fight with Assef,” muttered Amir.

“Who?” Trush inquired.

Amir groaned and hunched over. Yuri left and was back shortly with a parka, and other proper winter attire for Amir. With one arm around Yuri, Amir was able to slowly make it to a small room where Yuri had set up an escape. An old 80’s snowmobile, mostly covered in rust was the only thing in the room besides a small garage door. After starting the engine both Amir and Yuri began their escape.

Eventually they reached the end of the snow cap and had to begin the on foot descent. Amir wasn’t as broken as he first appeared, now able to journey slowly on foot with the aid of a makeshift cane. Trush was still out of the know regarding the details of the mission, “How did you get captured?” Yuri finally managed to ask the paining man.

Amir smiled, his cheeks raked with scrapes and cuts, “I looked at them the wrong way.”

“The wrong way?” Trush questioned.

“I couldn’t help myself, I did the same thing a while back when looking for Hassan. My friend Farid warned me not to but for some reason I can’t resist the urge to look them in the eye, to try to understand them, I still can’t.”

“Genocide is a shame in this world. Where I’m from in Russia, tigers are the victim, but people in Primorye have no choice, they can’t even afford to register their weapons. It’s sometimes hard to take their weapons away, it’s their life, hunting. This…what the Taliban is doing, isn’t the same.”

There was silence for a while, both men deep in thought. During the rest of the trip down the two didn’t converse much. They were drawn together by an unbelievable fate, from completely different worlds, there wasn’t much to talk about.

In time they reached the Kung, where Yuri had left it, covered in brush, but more or less an obvious standout, only luck can be responsible for its remaining presence. Once on the road, Amir and Yuri felt a sort of relief. “I tracked and killed a man eating tiger in Siberia, but never have I gone on a journey such as this. I was younger then,” stated Yuri.

“Can’t you retire?” asked Amir.

“Can’t you stop returning to Afghanistan?” joked Yuri.

They laughed, “I love my job,” explain Yuri.

“And I love my home country,” said Amir.

Later Amir wrote a novel about a hero, who went on a journey of a lifetime to save someone he knew nothing about, simply out of the kindness of his heart, and some good amount of cash. Of course like all Amir’s works it contained some irony.