Term paper

Kris Drummond
Dr. Sexson
English 213-01
5 April 2009
Title
“By Jupiter!” I exclaimed loudly, “the chances have GOT to be one in three.”
“Uhm, excuse me,” replied the officer, “but you were going seventy in a twenty five and you just ran over a dog. Now I’m going to ask again, can I see your license and registration?”
Noting the lack of a please, and sensing the disdain dripping from the officer like the perspiration off of his mustache, I took my sweet time retrieving my information. I must admit, my patience with my eternal return to this stupid situation was wearing thin. Handing over my tattered license and slightly outdated registration, I settled back into my seat to try to revive the revelation which had led me to this mythical situation in the first place. Before the anamnesis could occur however, the portly senex was back at my window, and he wasn’t happy.
“Listen here son, you went too far this time. Your blatant disregard for the law combined with your previous speeding record is making me think you need some real punishment! That dog back there was someone’s pet, and now because of your irresponsibility, it’s dead.”
“Ah, Dr. Sexson was right,” I thought to myself. “The past truly does possess the present.”
At this point, I knew I had two choices. Suck up, play nice and go home with a speeding ticket, OR let Hermes take over and see what would happen.
Recklessly taking the second option, I smiled at the prospect of flyting with the officer and let loose.
“Quit singing your goat song sir, if the dog is really bothering you that much, why don’t you just go home and blog about it, you will feel much better. He shouldn’t have been running around the intersection of Willson and Main Street in the first place.”
Uh oh. With a swift motion, the officer utilized his taser, shooting me directly in the chest. Sarvam Duhkam indeed.
Upon waking, I soon discovered the error in allowing Hermes, instead of Prometheus, to possess my sense of enthusiasm. Looking around, my eyes took in not the pleasant scenes of my own room, but instead, I found myself trapped in a dreary jail cell commune with 10 men who, upon my first glance, seemed immanently bent on sparagmos. Again, Dr. Sexson was right. The best remedy for this situation would have been to never have been born, because the second best option at the time seemed like a terrible way to begin my personal journey of metempsychosis.
Upon seeing my conscious state, the impatient chorus broke into a heated stichomythia about what I can only assume was over who got to establish the archetype for their very own phallic ritual. I had to laugh, because I knew if I started crying it would seal my fate as their concubine. Seeing my laughter, the chthonic group became all the more frenzied in their obscene advances. Suddenly, I had a polytropic stroke of anamnesis, the very remembrance I had been hoping to achieve back on Willson Street.
“Stop it, NOW!” I shouted, with a vehemence I didn’t know I possessed.
Confused, and not wanting to wake up the guards, the mob of unruly degenerates halted. Not wanting their daze to expire, I quickly recalled the whole revelation which had put me in this Hades-hole in the first place. Being stupefied by my miraculous attainment of boldness, the chorus actually became curious about what had so possessed me.
“Ok buddy, you’ve got our attention, what can you possibly tell us that would somehow save you from your fate?”
When I replied, the words seemed to fall out of my mouth with no regard for clarity or presentation.
“Ttt-trust me fellas you guys are ignorant right now and believe me I mean that in the best possible way but honestly you don’t know anything and you have to agree that it’s better to know something than to not know something am I right or am I right?”
Zeus, it sounded so much better when Dr. Sexson said it. Despite my bout of stage-or cell-fright, I knew that the show had to go on. As I gauged their befuddled expressions, I continued on the pretence that I must have been right.
“I’m going to tell you a story about myself, but it really doesn’t have anything to do with me, because the experience I am about to share has been felt and understood since the beginning of time, over and over and over again. My friends, in illo tempore, the story I’m about to tell was easily understood by young and old, and rich and poor alike. However, these days…”
“Shut up, you maypole riding son of Athena!” shouted one of the larger members of the cell. “Skip the symposium and tell us the news already!”
“Ha, well it’s actually the eternities, but alright, here we go…”
Calling to mind the introduction to my term paper for English 213, I began softly:
At the beginning of my college career, a mere 18 months ago, I didn’t know anything. Every single day seemed like a frivolous exercise in uninhibited progress towards an unnamed, unknown goal. Ha, the “progress” part would be more accurately described as a subtle stagnation. I knew the information I was learning and regurgitating had no real, practical application to my life. I didn’t know what actually did have any meaning to me on a deeper level, but I had the vague sense that I hadn’t found it yet. This feeling of wandering, of “going through the motions” brought me no satisfaction, and although I achieved very respectable grades, the only impression made was upon my parents. The culmination of 3 consecutive semesters of purposeless, meaningless work perpetuated itself within my mind until I found myself stuck on the verge of an existential frenzy of stress and confusion. I needed an answer badly, and I was quite unprepared for the unexpected nature with which one presented itself.

I’ll never forget that lonely October morning. As far as I was concerned, I was the only person on campus, accompanied only by my battered ego. As I marched dejectedly to Montana Hall, I tried to find some sort of consolation in the fact that I was finally declaring my major. However, none would come. I was dropping a class, Calculus to be exact, and the experience of giving up was too much for my inflated sense of self to handle. I guess by declaring English that day, I was acting in desperation, declaring a major that by conventional standards, namely those of my father, had “no practical application to the real world.” At the time, I believed him, and consequently prolonged my declaration to study the subject which actually interested me the most. As I embarked on my journey into the realm of literature, I had no idea how “practical” the information I was to learn actually was.

Sitting in English 213 the first day, my initial reaction to the unusual introduction/quote recitation was one of surprise, followed shortly thereafter by utter confusion. The past possesses the present? For a newly declared English major used to the drudgery of 100 person lectures and power point presentations, this was a shocker to say the least. Over the course of my first few weeks in an English centered curriculum, the need to dramatically upgrade my attitude and perception of school became alarmingly apparent. Having resolved to devote more time to school, I dutifully dove headfirst into the Homeric Hymns, and thus my metamorphosis began. At first, I was overwhelmed trying to find meaning in ancient texts depicting imaginary stories, and as far as I was concerned, they all chalked up to elaborate fairy tales. However, this point of view wouldn’t last long. As the class lectures by Dr. Sexson continued to amass, my understanding of the texts also grew. I believe it was while reading Plato that my first real sense of what the class and our readings were all about. “[…] And will search out and bring to the birth thoughts which may improve the young, until his beloved is compelled to contemplate and see the beauty of institutions and laws, and understand that all is of one kindred, and that personal beauty is only a trifle; […] Until at length he grows and waxes strong, and at last the vision is revealed to him of a single science, which is the science of beauty everywhere (Plato 33).”

Not only does this quote epitomize the central theme of the class, but it also alludes to the answer I had been searching for all along. In my previous life, I had been on a consistently selfish search to discover my own individual purpose in the great scheme of things. Circumstantially bound. I simply didn’t see that I, like every other organism on the planet, am subject to the same ever-present force; the ignored reality that life goes on with or without my existence and that my experiences and feelings are far from unique. When I was finally able to grasp an abstract comprehension of this universal connection, I found myself consumed. I searched for signs everywhere, and the more I looked, the more I saw. Starting with Plato and meticulously moving through all the assigned texts, I made it my goal to find within each the “life force” and “universality” which had fully captured my attention. It was in Diotima’s quote and it was in the wild child, but I wanted proof that this vague and overarching theme applied to matters outside the walls of Wilson Hall.

It didn’t take much searching before I found that Dr. Sexson was indeed correct. Plato called it love, the Hindus called it the Brahman, and the Christians called it “peace of God which passeth all understanding…” (Isherwood 2). Having no formal religious background, the title or specific doctrine was of little personal significance. All that mattered is that I saw and understood exactly what Dr. Sexson was talking about in all those abstract lectures about eternities and metempsychosis and reincarnation. Whether these concepts are only metaphors for a spiritless physical occurrence or not doesn’t matter. What matters is truth.

When a close family friend died a few years ago, I was completely shocked, saddened and confused. The only solace to be found was in the vague and obscure hope that perhaps someday we would be reunited in some idealistic form of “heaven.” Now, five years later, I have finally found the solace which has eluded me for so long. I realized it’s not the physical existence of heaven that matters; Life and death will continue to happen whether I like it or not. What matters is whether or not I see the “past contained within the present.” My friend has continued to live within me even though she is physically departed from the world. Her kindness and generosity always amazed me, and I know when I feel those same feelings it is her “past” teachings becoming apparent in my “present” reality. In a way, my friend’s spirit has been reincarnated within myself, and when I display those virtues which were instilled in me so long ago, she presents herself to the world once more.

Knowing what I know now, I feel completely confident that I could go back to my dad and talk for hours about the practical application of my English study. Sure, I haven’t learned about the complex equations which “predict” economic outcomes, nor have I learned the principles of business marketing. What I have learned is that ultimately, these things don’t matter. Through my metamorphosis this semester, I have gained an acceptance and appreciation for life which I once believed to be unattainable. By reading the past work of others who have a far greater understanding of life than my own, I have seen the terrible occurrence of tragedy beautifully transcribed into poetic works of literary catharsis. It is this “power of the originary” which allows us to circumvent our own personal tragedies to some extent by exhibiting to us that the issues of love and loss which were present in illo tempore, will always be with us. Though death is a haunting and rarely discussed experience, by reading and writing, and by laughing rather than crying, we rob death of its power to do us harm.

Plato and The Symposium

Thinking back on the semester over all the works we have read, the one that sticks out the most in my mind is The Symposium because of how well it exhibits the concept of the past possessing the present. I feel like I experience my own version of the symposium every single weekend. It never fails that near the end of every good friday or saturday night, there will inevitably be a deep conversation regarding the concept of love. Although these days, such discussions are more commonly referred to as "heart-to-hearts," the general concept is the same. People gather, they drink, they continue you to drink, and at some point, love makes its way to the surface. I find it funny how alcohol always seems to be a precursor to discussions of love, because it's the one concept that is almost universally desired by all beings. Plato must have known when he was writing the Symposium exactly how timeless his work would become. Based on the diologue contained within the play, I believe that Plato completely understood the power of love to transcend all other human emotions, making The Symposium as relevant today as when it was written. His understanding of love goes much deeper than the commonly held contemporary view of love being a one-dimensional feeling relating only to human relationships. Using the character Diotima, Plato beautifully describes exactly how complex love actually is:
"For he who would proceed rightly in this matter should begin in youth to turn to beautiful forms; and first, if his instructor guide him rightly, he should learn to love one such form only--out of that he should create fair thoughts; and soon he would himself perceive thatthe beauty of one form is truly related to the beauty of another; and then if beauty in general is his pursuit, how foolish would he be not to recognize that the beauty in every form is one and the same!"

The Greek Gods

In reading the Homeric Hymns earlier this semester, I noticed a key difference in the religion of the early Greeks and the dominant religions of contemporary society (Christianity, Islam, Judaism). It seemed to me that the Greeks created a god for every distinct human emotion that they observed, with the importance of the god depending on the importance of the value or emotion which that god represented. This had significant implications in the fact that humans were socially able to express their appreciation for ALL of their naturally inherent feelings. Intoxication and sex included, the Greeks acknowledged many if not all of the features of human consciousness through their metaphorical descriptions of various gods. Mischief-making, intoxication, and sex were represented by the gods Hermes, Bacchus, and Dionysus. To me, the fact that these naturally occuring emotions were so accepted in Greek culture was difficult to grasp. I realized that this surprise stemmed from the fact that religion serves an entirely different purpose these days than the days of ancient Greece.

Popular modern religions seem to be a strict set of rules that stress the importance of living in such a way as to achieve the vague goal of spiritual perfection and thus gain admitance into heaven. Unlike the Greeks, western religions restrict the acceptable range of human behavior. Instead of celebrating each aspect of individual persona, Christianity provides a brief list of feelings deemed to be acceptable, with everything else cast aside as sin.

I guess what I'm getting at with all of this is that the Greeks celebrated themselves as humans while relgions these days seem to hold the human condition as one of weakness and inferiority under God's rule.

The literary experience

To an outside perspective, the pursuit of an English degree often seems to be a frivilous use of time. When meeting new people, the conversation always goes something like this:

"Hey, I'm Kris, it's nice to meet you."
"Yeah, I'm ________, it's nice to meet you too. So do you go to MSU?"
"Yeah, yourself?"
"For sure. So what's your major?"
"I'm studying english actually."
(slightly taken aback) "Oh... that's cool. I'm a business major."

Although that is a very general model, it conveys the feeling I usually experience on a weekly basis. It has made me wonder many times what it is about an English degree that has been so stigimitized. Perhaps all these people share the same view as my father, that college is for studying areas that have "practical application" to the real world. Maybe it's because television has all but eliminated the necessity for reading as a form of gaining knowledge and people simply can't see the value of reading anymore. No matter what the underlying cause actually is, it has made me question myself many times. However, I know that I made the right choice when I crack open a good book and all my concerns evaporate in a matter of moments.

As Dr. Sexson said, literature is a form of catharsis, and although I didn't know it until this semester, I have always used reading as a way to escape. Through fights with parents and friends, death and disease, and growing up in general, literature has always been there, helping to exhibit the futility of whatever my circumstancially bound concerns may have been. It is only by taking this class that I have found the words to describe the experience that I have always been aware of.

Metempsychosis

The transmigration of the soul. It really is a beautiful metaphor for describing the mysterious process of death. If the idea of the past possessing the present is intuitive (indeed it becomes more so every day), then the idea that past spirits are reestablised in new bodies or forms really isn't that far of a strech. Now keeping in mind that, as Dr. Sexson said, this concept is one big metaphor, I wonder if the ancient cultures of the world where metempsychosis origninated held a similar view of its metaphorical use. I quickly googled the word and came upon a website which listed the various forms of metempsychosis and the several cultures which established their own variation into their belief systems.

Beginning with the Egyptions and proceeding in chronological order, the website I found gave a brief history of all known cultures to employ the ideas of transmigration. I found it very interesting that this idea of reincarnation was such a common explanation of the intimidating process of dying, spanning cultures, time periods, and continents. Although the basic idea of metempsychosis was the common link between ancient Egypt, Greece, and India, the details of the transmigration belief were very different. Brahmanism, which originated in India, proclaimed a system of what seems to be everlasting karma. Wrong-doings committed in a current life time were believed to follow that soul into the next life or even several lifetimes down the road. It was understood that negative events could be a punishment for an act committed centuries in the past.

It's funny, reading all these classical texts and learning about the beliefs of reincarnation and soul migration and mystical happenings, it all seems like a fairy tale. Our perspective as twenty first century humans would have us believe that these stories are idealistic fables used simply to entertain. However, when you think about it, these stories are no more idealistic than the tales of the relgions which drive a majority of the modern world. The answers relgion seeks to provide are no more concrete today than they were hundreds, thousands, or millions of years ago. The same exact questions remain and as long as human consciousness exists, there will be no answers.

I like Old Comedy

"...Lay one cuticle on her, and I shall beat you till you shit (line 440-41)." I don't know which is funnier; the fact that this line is uttered by an old woman as a legitimate threat or that this entire play would make a perfect MTV reality series. It could just be me, but every example of flyting contained in Lysistrata just brings up the image of the bitchy girl yelling and screaming on any given version of MTV's "The Real World." I hate everything about MTV for the very reason that it creates drama when none need exist. They don't even play music anymore. Lysistrata is similar in the fact that drama is being created around a completely absurd and non-realistic theme. However, it is presented as a comedy and the clever insults combined with a humorous translation make this play the most entertaining piece of classical literature I have ever read.

As I read, I feel like I am experiencing a drawn out version of Steiners' first conflict, Men vs. Women. Now I will share some of the funniest quotes I have found relating to this conflict so far.

Lampito: "Shit, it's no easy thing to lie in bed alone without no dong...But count me in. Peace we just gotta have (line 143-5)."


Councilor: "As long as men can get it up--
Lysistrata: "Why don't you die and shut it up?" (line 599)

Chorus: "...Justice and Truth rely on those with balls." (line 661)

Lysistrata

When I started reading Lysistrata, I knew something was a little different from the first page. Words like "dildo" and "dick" started appearing and I had to check the cover of the book to make sure I wasn't reading the transcript of a 16 year olds online conversation. After the shock of seeing overly descriptive explatives in an assigned reading wore off, I found myself legitimately interested in the plot.

As we already know, past possesses the present. Perhaps Lysistrata is where the idea of using physical desires as elements of manipulation first began. Regardless, I found the reaction of the men, when robbed of their sex lives, hilarious and completely applicable to the reactions of present-day teenagers. Words like slut and rancid hag are still muttered with disgust by rejected 16 year olds all the time when their first attempts to "circle the bases" inevitably go astray. Even fully matured adults are still subject to sexual manipulation. Ever seen that Miller Lite commercial with the two beautiful women wrestling in a fountain? In short, I don't think I will ever forget "Great taste" or "Less filling" for as long as I live. The theme is prevalent in movies as well. Titles like "40 Days and 40 Nights" and "American Pie" show the extreme power physical desire has over the consciousness of humans. Thanks to Lysistrata, females understand this power and in my biased opinion use it to their benefit frequently.