The Meaning of Education: Why Knowledge is Power
I believe that education is paramount because knowledge is power. A solid education not only broadens one’s mind and world view, but also has the potential to expose an individual to new concepts and ideas he/she may become passionate about. What’s more, one needs only look to such instances as the Taliban rule and the Cultural Revolution—tumultuous times in history when people were deprived of a decent education—to see that ignorance is far from blissful, and that the uneducated mind is often subject to subordination and oppression form powerful authority.
Education is critical because it exposes people to diverse perspectives and ideas that help to shape his/her own opinion. When one soaks up knowledge from literature for example, he/she can learn about different cultures and issues told from unique points of view. With exposure to many different sides of a story, a person can come to his/her own conclusions, which ultimately helps to define an enlightened world view. What’s more, not only does education teach important information and skills that will be beneficial for a successful career and future, but also, an education in philosophy as taught through history and literature can have a profound affect on one’s subjectively defined morals. By learning about the wide array of interpretations and answers to certain fundamental questions—such as the meaning of life or what it means to be good—one can essentially discover how to fully rise to his/her highest potential and lead a fulfilling life. Without access to an education, ignorant people must rely on either society or authority to answer these questions. All too often, uneducated people accept the oppressive and unjust circumstances they live in because they are not inspired to demand equality, freedom, and inalienable human rights, since they have never been exposed to these ideas through education. History has shown numerous examples of how authority uses this fact to keep certain groups in subordination, recognizing that a decent education would open their eyes to threatening new ideas that could fuel civil disobedience or rebellious responses to their subjugation.
My Forbidden Face and Balzac and the Little Chinese Seamstress present two specific examples of the consequences of authority depriving those under their rule of education, thus taking away their intellectual power and significance. In My Forbidden Face, the narrator Latifa documents the atrocious Taliban takeover of her home town in Afghanistan. Prohibited to receive an education or work outside the home, women were hopeless prisoners locked in a cage of ignorance. Latifa describes that the Taliban were “Killing us [women] stealthily, in silence. The worst prohibitions…annihilate us by locking us outside society”(38). The deprivation of education was so aversive at this time because in essence, women were denied a food they so hungered for, and forbidden to satisfy their desire to share an intellectual pursuit that was reserved for men. This book not only shows how authority gains power by keeping the masses ignorant, but also, the actions of the Taliban illustrate how not all education is beneficial. Without considering different points of view, the Taliban showed fervent devotion to the Koran, but they manipulated the ideas presented in this holy book to justify irrational, degrading decrees that they forced upon those under their control. This shows how extremely narrow viewed learning, highly subject to bias, can have nasty consequences. This concept is also seen in Balzac and the Little Chinese Seamstress, set during the Cultural Revolution—a time when a very specific type of biased education forcibly replaced educational freedom. During China’s Cultural Revolution, Mao instigated re-education, transforming education to focus solely on socialist ideology, and sending millions of youth to the countryside to eliminate any teachings considered bourgeoisie. Isolated in the mountains, the boys in this novel feel the pangs of hunger for the freedom to pursue education. When they discover a suitcase of forbidden literature, they are driven to steal it, and these novels from around the world open their eyes to the foreign concepts of love, freedom, self-reliance, and original ideas. The boys become engrossed with the novels because they tell of life’s beautiful intricacies, and with their increasing knowledge, they become self-empowered. In addition, the boys use the novels to educate an ignorant country girl, and in the process, the seamstress is so affected by the stories that she is inspired to leave the mountain and search for greater opportunities for self-fulfillment.
In conclusion, with education comes power, and ignorance often yields subordination. Education is important not only for an individual to grow and prosper, but also to prevent narrow-minded thinking and control from authority. The pursuit of knowledge for its own sake is a privilege because thorough education, one can discover who they are and how they hope to influence the world.
Sunday, April 15, 2007
Friday, March 23, 2007
Comparison Paper
Taoism versus Existentialism:
The Juxtaposition of Lao Tsu’s Tao Te Ching and Jean-Paul Sartre’s No Exit
The history of philosophy has seen a repeated distinction made between Eastern and Western thought. Although both Eastern and Western philosophies share certain fundamental values, they undoubtedly differ. A clear example of contrasting philosophies is seen in the juxtaposition of Taoism and Existentialism. More specifically, Lao Tsu’s Tao Te Ching and Jean-Paul Sartre’s No Exit, Taoist and Existential works, respectively, share both similarities and differences in style, mood, and in the messages the authors convey.
Taoism is defined as a Chinese philosophy that advocates a simple life and a policy of noninterference with the natural course of things. The historical origins of this ancient philosophy are debatable; many scholars believe that Taoism dates back to sixth-century BC. Although the word Taoism may refer to religious practices, alchemy, or traditional Chinese medicine, the Taoist philosophy is of primary interest to this discussion. As the Columbia Encyclopedia describes, “The Tao, in the broadest sense, is the way the universe functions, the path taken by natural events. It is characterized by spontaneous creativity and by regular alternations of phenomena (such as day following night) that proceed without effort” . In other words, the Taoist approach to living is one that smoothly flows, and seeks a harmonious connection with nature. The philosophical roots of Taoism are attributed to the seminal text titled Tao Te Ching, which solidifies the salient ideas of Lao Tsu. According to legend, Lao Tsu, who emerged before Confucius, was reluctant to record his philosophy, because he asserted, “The Tao that can be told is not the eternal Tao” (Ch. 1). However, Lao Tsu was persuaded to do so, and the eighty-one chaptered text that he produced would prove to provide the core teachings of Taoism.
In contrast, Existentialism is a 20th-century philosophical movement that denies that the universe has any intrinsic meaning or purpose and requires individuals to take responsibility for their own actions and shape their own destinies . Principal values of Existentialism include authenticity, freedom, and responsibility. Søren Kierkegaard (1813-1855) is considered the father of Existentialism, a philosophy that emerged in Europe and therefore adopted an emphasis on individualism and reason, which are characteristic of Western thought. Jean-Paul Sartre’s play No Exit exemplifies existential philosophy because Sartre intertwines all the previously mentioned themes into his concept of mauvaise foi or “bad faith”, which is used to describe "the phenomenon wherein one denies one's total freedom, instead choosing to behave as an inert object" . In No Exit, the three main characters Garcin, Estelle, and Inez wind up in an unconventional “Hell” that is far different from the fiery prison such a word conjures. As the characters interact they eventually realize that they were all chosen to torture each other, because they constantly yearn for approval. The demon of external validation plagues the characters, who rely on the unrequited confirmation from another character. In other words, each person suffers because he/she is not acting authentically, but rather depending on the judgment and opinions of others.
The Tao Te Ching was compiled thousands of years before No Exit was published, therefore the differences between these two works are numerous, and understandably inevitable. Perhaps most significant is the difference seen between the messages Lao Tsu and Sartre convey to readers. In the Tao Te Ching, the concept of wu mei, which translates to “doing nothing”, but more accurately means “act naturally”, “effortless action”, or “nonwillful action”, greatly influences the Taoist approach to life. To wu mei is to flow with reality, or as Ronnie Littlejohn describes, “Those following the Dao do not strive, tamper, or seek control (Ch. 64). They do not endeavor to help life along (Ch. 55), or use their heart-mind (xin) to "solve" or "figure out" life's apparent knots and entanglements (Ch. 55)” . In addition, Lao Tsu writes about the universe, “If you try to change it, you will ruin it. If you try to hold it, you will lose it” (Ch. 29). In contrast, Sartre’s message in No Exit is to urge individuals to recognize their absolute freedom, and the responsibility that comes with this freedom to shape one’s own destiny. In other words, No Exit suggests to readers the idea that individuals ultimately have the choice to define their lives, which means they can and should tamper with and control reality.
Other notable differences in style and mood are seen in the Tao Te Ching and No Exit. For example, the style of Lao Tsu’s writing is generally ambiguous, open to multiple interpretations, and tersely profound. On the other hand, No Exit is comparatively more concrete, and an examination of the play’s subtext reveals a fairly straightforward and clear message. Perhaps this difference is merely a result of the fact that Lao Tsu contends, "The Tao is forever undefined. Small though it is in the unformed state, it cannot be grasped."; therefore, attempting to write about the Tao often yields ambiguous descriptions (Ch. 32). Also, the Tao Te Ching and No Exit have unique moods. The mood of Tao Te Ching is at times laid-back, neutral, empowering, advisory, and inspirational. Lao Tsu's words are thought provoking and set the reader into a natural and positive mood. In contrast, the general mood of No Exit is quite dark, not only because the play is set in Hell, but also because the characters essentially torture each other and reveal the deleterious consequences of behaving inauthentically.
On the surface, Tao Te Ching and No Exit appear to share no commonalities; however, a close examination of these works reveals that there are some similarities. For example, one can infer that another message suggested by both texts is the idea of authenticity, or being true to and understanding oneself. In the Tao Te Ching, not only is there an emphasis on acting naturally and resisting contrived, false behavior, but also, Lao Tsu writes, “Knowing others is wisdom; Knowing the self is enlightenment.” (Ch. 33). This quote showcases a crucial aspect of Taoist philosophy: the necessity of discovering the true essence of the self. Similarly, No Exit advises readers to refrain from expressing a façade that undermines the true self, or expressing "bad faith". Drawing from Existentialism in general, one can understand why Sartre suggests in No Exit that authenticity is paramount; the reason is because by living inauthentically, one ignores the absolute freedom and responsibility he/she possesses as a human being, and fails to personally give his/her life meaning. Although many themes in the Tao Te Ching are concerned with social harmony and unity of the collective, as opposed to a focus on individualism, one may interpret that both Lao Tsu and Sartre value natural behavior and knowledge of the self.
In conclusion, the Tao Te Ching and No Exit reflect the contrasting philosophies of Eastern Taoism and Western Existentialism. Because Taoist philosophy as represented in the Tao Te Ching is often subject to multiple interpretations, both similarities and differences can be drawn between Lao Tsu's messages and Sartre's. Although the dissimilarities are most apparent in style and mood, if one looks carefully, commonalities arise, because successful philosophical works characteristically contain effective use of symbolism and language. Moreover, the juxtaposition of these two texts is significant because it allows one to gain insight into two dominant philosophies of Eastern and Western culture, and helps explain how and why our unique societies have been impacted by the ideas of Lao Tsu and Sartre.
The Juxtaposition of Lao Tsu’s Tao Te Ching and Jean-Paul Sartre’s No Exit
The history of philosophy has seen a repeated distinction made between Eastern and Western thought. Although both Eastern and Western philosophies share certain fundamental values, they undoubtedly differ. A clear example of contrasting philosophies is seen in the juxtaposition of Taoism and Existentialism. More specifically, Lao Tsu’s Tao Te Ching and Jean-Paul Sartre’s No Exit, Taoist and Existential works, respectively, share both similarities and differences in style, mood, and in the messages the authors convey.
Taoism is defined as a Chinese philosophy that advocates a simple life and a policy of noninterference with the natural course of things. The historical origins of this ancient philosophy are debatable; many scholars believe that Taoism dates back to sixth-century BC. Although the word Taoism may refer to religious practices, alchemy, or traditional Chinese medicine, the Taoist philosophy is of primary interest to this discussion. As the Columbia Encyclopedia describes, “The Tao, in the broadest sense, is the way the universe functions, the path taken by natural events. It is characterized by spontaneous creativity and by regular alternations of phenomena (such as day following night) that proceed without effort” . In other words, the Taoist approach to living is one that smoothly flows, and seeks a harmonious connection with nature. The philosophical roots of Taoism are attributed to the seminal text titled Tao Te Ching, which solidifies the salient ideas of Lao Tsu. According to legend, Lao Tsu, who emerged before Confucius, was reluctant to record his philosophy, because he asserted, “The Tao that can be told is not the eternal Tao” (Ch. 1). However, Lao Tsu was persuaded to do so, and the eighty-one chaptered text that he produced would prove to provide the core teachings of Taoism.
In contrast, Existentialism is a 20th-century philosophical movement that denies that the universe has any intrinsic meaning or purpose and requires individuals to take responsibility for their own actions and shape their own destinies . Principal values of Existentialism include authenticity, freedom, and responsibility. Søren Kierkegaard (1813-1855) is considered the father of Existentialism, a philosophy that emerged in Europe and therefore adopted an emphasis on individualism and reason, which are characteristic of Western thought. Jean-Paul Sartre’s play No Exit exemplifies existential philosophy because Sartre intertwines all the previously mentioned themes into his concept of mauvaise foi or “bad faith”, which is used to describe "the phenomenon wherein one denies one's total freedom, instead choosing to behave as an inert object" . In No Exit, the three main characters Garcin, Estelle, and Inez wind up in an unconventional “Hell” that is far different from the fiery prison such a word conjures. As the characters interact they eventually realize that they were all chosen to torture each other, because they constantly yearn for approval. The demon of external validation plagues the characters, who rely on the unrequited confirmation from another character. In other words, each person suffers because he/she is not acting authentically, but rather depending on the judgment and opinions of others.
The Tao Te Ching was compiled thousands of years before No Exit was published, therefore the differences between these two works are numerous, and understandably inevitable. Perhaps most significant is the difference seen between the messages Lao Tsu and Sartre convey to readers. In the Tao Te Ching, the concept of wu mei, which translates to “doing nothing”, but more accurately means “act naturally”, “effortless action”, or “nonwillful action”, greatly influences the Taoist approach to life. To wu mei is to flow with reality, or as Ronnie Littlejohn describes, “Those following the Dao do not strive, tamper, or seek control (Ch. 64). They do not endeavor to help life along (Ch. 55), or use their heart-mind (xin) to "solve" or "figure out" life's apparent knots and entanglements (Ch. 55)” . In addition, Lao Tsu writes about the universe, “If you try to change it, you will ruin it. If you try to hold it, you will lose it” (Ch. 29). In contrast, Sartre’s message in No Exit is to urge individuals to recognize their absolute freedom, and the responsibility that comes with this freedom to shape one’s own destiny. In other words, No Exit suggests to readers the idea that individuals ultimately have the choice to define their lives, which means they can and should tamper with and control reality.
Other notable differences in style and mood are seen in the Tao Te Ching and No Exit. For example, the style of Lao Tsu’s writing is generally ambiguous, open to multiple interpretations, and tersely profound. On the other hand, No Exit is comparatively more concrete, and an examination of the play’s subtext reveals a fairly straightforward and clear message. Perhaps this difference is merely a result of the fact that Lao Tsu contends, "The Tao is forever undefined. Small though it is in the unformed state, it cannot be grasped."; therefore, attempting to write about the Tao often yields ambiguous descriptions (Ch. 32). Also, the Tao Te Ching and No Exit have unique moods. The mood of Tao Te Ching is at times laid-back, neutral, empowering, advisory, and inspirational. Lao Tsu's words are thought provoking and set the reader into a natural and positive mood. In contrast, the general mood of No Exit is quite dark, not only because the play is set in Hell, but also because the characters essentially torture each other and reveal the deleterious consequences of behaving inauthentically.
On the surface, Tao Te Ching and No Exit appear to share no commonalities; however, a close examination of these works reveals that there are some similarities. For example, one can infer that another message suggested by both texts is the idea of authenticity, or being true to and understanding oneself. In the Tao Te Ching, not only is there an emphasis on acting naturally and resisting contrived, false behavior, but also, Lao Tsu writes, “Knowing others is wisdom; Knowing the self is enlightenment.” (Ch. 33). This quote showcases a crucial aspect of Taoist philosophy: the necessity of discovering the true essence of the self. Similarly, No Exit advises readers to refrain from expressing a façade that undermines the true self, or expressing "bad faith". Drawing from Existentialism in general, one can understand why Sartre suggests in No Exit that authenticity is paramount; the reason is because by living inauthentically, one ignores the absolute freedom and responsibility he/she possesses as a human being, and fails to personally give his/her life meaning. Although many themes in the Tao Te Ching are concerned with social harmony and unity of the collective, as opposed to a focus on individualism, one may interpret that both Lao Tsu and Sartre value natural behavior and knowledge of the self.
In conclusion, the Tao Te Ching and No Exit reflect the contrasting philosophies of Eastern Taoism and Western Existentialism. Because Taoist philosophy as represented in the Tao Te Ching is often subject to multiple interpretations, both similarities and differences can be drawn between Lao Tsu's messages and Sartre's. Although the dissimilarities are most apparent in style and mood, if one looks carefully, commonalities arise, because successful philosophical works characteristically contain effective use of symbolism and language. Moreover, the juxtaposition of these two texts is significant because it allows one to gain insight into two dominant philosophies of Eastern and Western culture, and helps explain how and why our unique societies have been impacted by the ideas of Lao Tsu and Sartre.
Friday, March 2, 2007
Ancient Voices Paper
Adara’s Dilemma
When the winds of change blow fiercely, the loveliest lily wilts faster than the weed.
Adara squeezed her eyes tightly, as if this action alone could awaken her from the awful nightmare she had refused to admit was in fact real. When she ceased these naively futile attempts, the nauseating sloshing reminded her that she was at sea, far away from her familiar home of Ithaca. The putrid smell of rotting fish, mixed with the stale odor of masculine sweat, assaulted her nostrils as the loud rustling on the deck above indicated that morning had brought a new day. As she slowly awakened, Adara tried to piece together the horrific events that brought her to this miserable ship.
Adara remembered the belligerent men who, only days ago, decimated her city, killed her people, and captured her to give to the strongest warrior as a trophy. At a tender age of 17, Adara was beginning to blossom into one of the most beautiful young women in all of Greece, so naturally she was the perfect award for a war prize. With immense, wide set sky blue eyes and radiant golden ringlets that bounced down her pleasantly curvaceous body, Adara had always been the envy of every girl in Ithaca. Growing up among nobility, in a city whose natural beauty seemed to compete with her physical attractiveness, Adara had grown accustomed to being the center of attention. Throughout her childhood and adolescence, Adara’s confidence had developed into outright vanity, and she eventually stopped pursuing the enrichment of her inner beauty. Adara recalled that she had had everything she could have wanted: good looks, great fortune, and a promising future with the greatest Ithacan warrior of all time, young Darius. But all of these gifts were taken away the night the Spartans invaded her home and forcibly swept her away.
After unwillingly reliving the painful experiences of the nights before, Adara decided her need for sustenance prevailed over her need for comfort and understanding. She weakly arose from the foreign bed she shared with the beastly Eliud, and made her way to the ship’s kitchen. Passing by the lavishly elegant furnishings of the room, Adara winced with a sharp yearning to return to her own bedroom. Eliud’s armor lay heaped on the floor, stained with the blood of her relatives. On her way to the kitchen, Adara was forced to circumnavigate the hostile, lustful stares of the Spartan warriors, which eroded every last ounce of her self-confidence. When she arrived at the kitchen, Eliud, a massive warrior with a beak nose, leathery scar ridden skin, and a openly pompous attitude, beckoned to her and said, “My lovely, how wonderful of you to join us. Sit down, over here, where all the men can see what a beautiful trophy I have won.” Instantly repulsed by both his arrogant personality and unsightly looks, Adara fought to resist the urge to fling herself overboard and sink to the bottom of the azure ocean. Reluctantly, she took a seat and forced a contrived smile, the same grin she had learn to produce on command when she made public appearances with her father, the late King of Ithaca. A grubby servant boy scuttled over and served her cold fish with a handful of overripe grapes, and the savage looks of the other warriors made it clear that this meal must have been a delicacy aboard the ship. As she began to nibble at her breakfast, the boisterous Eliud decided the time was right to give a little speech to the battered fighters that had slowly congregated around the eating area:
“My courageous comrades: Our success in the defeat of the Ithacan army was by no means an easy achievement. We were forced to sacrifice our own men in the pursuit of victory, but the men that died will not be forgotten. I would like to recognize the accomplishments of my inferiors, and also point out that I took pleasure in personally slaying the commander of the Ithacan army. From this battle, we gained not only spoils of the Ithacan treasury, but also this magnificent prize to my left, Adara. Please welcome her.”
As Eliud concluded his victory speech, the men hooted and stomped their boots in satisfaction. But Adara had been driven to a state of deep melancholy, and a sense of hopelessness had overtaken her spirit. Realizing that the man Eliud had gleefully slain was her own true love Darius, Adara writhed with feelings of sadness and fury. Never had Adara’s aesthetic value brought such abhorrent consequences.
As the crowds of men settled down and Eliud reached out to stroke his new prize, Adara quietly excused herself and made a beeline to the ship’s stern. Looking out to the serene sea, Adara’s irrational thoughts of suicide once again surfaced. With her family and homeland destroyed, her lover slaughtered, and her future only promising dismal years with the disgusting Eliud, Adara felt she had nothing to live for. Cautiously, she walked to the edge of the ship, shut her eyes, and placed one foot overboard. Before she could take her last step, however, the radiant goddess Athena descended from the heavens and spoke to her:
“My poor Adara, why would you take your own life? Haven’t you been blessed with the fairest face in all of Ithaca? Do you not value your fortune?”
Adara, startled, replied, “If I could regain all that I have lost, then perhaps I would have a purpose. But I now realize that I am not strong on the inside, and cannot endure the suffering that awaits me in the future.”
Athena responded, “My child, I cannot bring your loved ones back, nor can I mend the wounds of your psyche. However, if you wish to evade a dismal future with Eliud, I can be of assistance.”
“Tell me more,” Adara pleaded.
“It is obvious that Eliud is attracted solely to your stunning beauty, and he will never let you go unless he comes upon another maiden of even greater aesthetic value. Therefore, if you wish to be set free, I can cast a spell that will disfigure your appearance and make you undesirable by all who look upon you.”
“What do you mean undesirable? Is that possible?”
Athena assured her, “Sweet Adara, I can transform you from a lily to a weed, so that any warrior would wish to expel you from his garden.”
Still thinking with her heart, Adara knew she wanted the spell. Anything to get away from her vile Spartan captor and the life of a showpiece. But before she agreed to undergo the transformation, a rare, unselfish thought sprang into Adara’s mind. Although she was far from wise, Adara had the ability to consider the implications and consequences of her decision. She knew that if Eliud got rid of her, his pride and honor would be severely damaged, and serious conflict could spring from his anger. A high ranking warrior deprived of his war prize was like a king stripped of his golden jeweled crown.
When forced to separate her heart from logic in making a choice, Adara faced a mental schism that led to noticeable discomfort. Even though her strong emotions clouded her reasoning, Adara’s conscience told her she must accept her fate and reject Athena’s help. When she turned to inform Athena, however, the goddess had already gone. Adara stepped away from the edge, and started walking back to the kitchen. With her back to the sea, Adara gained partial composure, attempted to suppress her anxiety, and reassured herself that although she was a prisoner of war, she would always have the freedom to choose how she viewed and fulfilled each life task that awaited her.
When the winds of change blow fiercely, the loveliest lily wilts faster than the weed.
Adara squeezed her eyes tightly, as if this action alone could awaken her from the awful nightmare she had refused to admit was in fact real. When she ceased these naively futile attempts, the nauseating sloshing reminded her that she was at sea, far away from her familiar home of Ithaca. The putrid smell of rotting fish, mixed with the stale odor of masculine sweat, assaulted her nostrils as the loud rustling on the deck above indicated that morning had brought a new day. As she slowly awakened, Adara tried to piece together the horrific events that brought her to this miserable ship.
Adara remembered the belligerent men who, only days ago, decimated her city, killed her people, and captured her to give to the strongest warrior as a trophy. At a tender age of 17, Adara was beginning to blossom into one of the most beautiful young women in all of Greece, so naturally she was the perfect award for a war prize. With immense, wide set sky blue eyes and radiant golden ringlets that bounced down her pleasantly curvaceous body, Adara had always been the envy of every girl in Ithaca. Growing up among nobility, in a city whose natural beauty seemed to compete with her physical attractiveness, Adara had grown accustomed to being the center of attention. Throughout her childhood and adolescence, Adara’s confidence had developed into outright vanity, and she eventually stopped pursuing the enrichment of her inner beauty. Adara recalled that she had had everything she could have wanted: good looks, great fortune, and a promising future with the greatest Ithacan warrior of all time, young Darius. But all of these gifts were taken away the night the Spartans invaded her home and forcibly swept her away.
After unwillingly reliving the painful experiences of the nights before, Adara decided her need for sustenance prevailed over her need for comfort and understanding. She weakly arose from the foreign bed she shared with the beastly Eliud, and made her way to the ship’s kitchen. Passing by the lavishly elegant furnishings of the room, Adara winced with a sharp yearning to return to her own bedroom. Eliud’s armor lay heaped on the floor, stained with the blood of her relatives. On her way to the kitchen, Adara was forced to circumnavigate the hostile, lustful stares of the Spartan warriors, which eroded every last ounce of her self-confidence. When she arrived at the kitchen, Eliud, a massive warrior with a beak nose, leathery scar ridden skin, and a openly pompous attitude, beckoned to her and said, “My lovely, how wonderful of you to join us. Sit down, over here, where all the men can see what a beautiful trophy I have won.” Instantly repulsed by both his arrogant personality and unsightly looks, Adara fought to resist the urge to fling herself overboard and sink to the bottom of the azure ocean. Reluctantly, she took a seat and forced a contrived smile, the same grin she had learn to produce on command when she made public appearances with her father, the late King of Ithaca. A grubby servant boy scuttled over and served her cold fish with a handful of overripe grapes, and the savage looks of the other warriors made it clear that this meal must have been a delicacy aboard the ship. As she began to nibble at her breakfast, the boisterous Eliud decided the time was right to give a little speech to the battered fighters that had slowly congregated around the eating area:
“My courageous comrades: Our success in the defeat of the Ithacan army was by no means an easy achievement. We were forced to sacrifice our own men in the pursuit of victory, but the men that died will not be forgotten. I would like to recognize the accomplishments of my inferiors, and also point out that I took pleasure in personally slaying the commander of the Ithacan army. From this battle, we gained not only spoils of the Ithacan treasury, but also this magnificent prize to my left, Adara. Please welcome her.”
As Eliud concluded his victory speech, the men hooted and stomped their boots in satisfaction. But Adara had been driven to a state of deep melancholy, and a sense of hopelessness had overtaken her spirit. Realizing that the man Eliud had gleefully slain was her own true love Darius, Adara writhed with feelings of sadness and fury. Never had Adara’s aesthetic value brought such abhorrent consequences.
As the crowds of men settled down and Eliud reached out to stroke his new prize, Adara quietly excused herself and made a beeline to the ship’s stern. Looking out to the serene sea, Adara’s irrational thoughts of suicide once again surfaced. With her family and homeland destroyed, her lover slaughtered, and her future only promising dismal years with the disgusting Eliud, Adara felt she had nothing to live for. Cautiously, she walked to the edge of the ship, shut her eyes, and placed one foot overboard. Before she could take her last step, however, the radiant goddess Athena descended from the heavens and spoke to her:
“My poor Adara, why would you take your own life? Haven’t you been blessed with the fairest face in all of Ithaca? Do you not value your fortune?”
Adara, startled, replied, “If I could regain all that I have lost, then perhaps I would have a purpose. But I now realize that I am not strong on the inside, and cannot endure the suffering that awaits me in the future.”
Athena responded, “My child, I cannot bring your loved ones back, nor can I mend the wounds of your psyche. However, if you wish to evade a dismal future with Eliud, I can be of assistance.”
“Tell me more,” Adara pleaded.
“It is obvious that Eliud is attracted solely to your stunning beauty, and he will never let you go unless he comes upon another maiden of even greater aesthetic value. Therefore, if you wish to be set free, I can cast a spell that will disfigure your appearance and make you undesirable by all who look upon you.”
“What do you mean undesirable? Is that possible?”
Athena assured her, “Sweet Adara, I can transform you from a lily to a weed, so that any warrior would wish to expel you from his garden.”
Still thinking with her heart, Adara knew she wanted the spell. Anything to get away from her vile Spartan captor and the life of a showpiece. But before she agreed to undergo the transformation, a rare, unselfish thought sprang into Adara’s mind. Although she was far from wise, Adara had the ability to consider the implications and consequences of her decision. She knew that if Eliud got rid of her, his pride and honor would be severely damaged, and serious conflict could spring from his anger. A high ranking warrior deprived of his war prize was like a king stripped of his golden jeweled crown.
When forced to separate her heart from logic in making a choice, Adara faced a mental schism that led to noticeable discomfort. Even though her strong emotions clouded her reasoning, Adara’s conscience told her she must accept her fate and reject Athena’s help. When she turned to inform Athena, however, the goddess had already gone. Adara stepped away from the edge, and started walking back to the kitchen. With her back to the sea, Adara gained partial composure, attempted to suppress her anxiety, and reassured herself that although she was a prisoner of war, she would always have the freedom to choose how she viewed and fulfilled each life task that awaited her.
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