Finishing The Aeneid has left me with a scattering of miscellaneous thoughts, most of which are regarding the final books of the epic. Firstly, the single combat fight between Aeneas and Turnus makes me wonder about the dynamic of warfare. Why are wars as we know them necessary? Sure, sometimes there seems to be no other alternative for finding a solution for whatever political issues with which one is faced. But why war, from a World War I, trench warfare perspective? Why must hundreds of thousands of soldiers be killed and injured in order to come to a solution? If each of the opposing sides dispatched a single fighter, perhaps war could be performed with less bloodshed. Of course, such a neatly-cut method probably wouldn’t work in most situations dire enough to bring about war. Additionally, often the material costs of war are highly influential to the overall outcome, and warring parties might not come to a solution unless one or both of them were backed into a corner. And, of course, one has to remember that human spirit and emotions play a large part in battle, as evidenced by the fact that Turnus and Aeneas’ fight could be kept between two people for only a brief time before both armies were spurred to action against one another.
Another observation that graced me with its presence was that the spectators at Turnus and Aeneas’ fight were reminiscent of gladiator fights performed for public entertainment- something that definitely didn’t influence the Greek epic, The Odyssey. Although this is most certainly not a unique or original observation, the role Juno plays in influencing the Trojans and the role Venus plays in placing suggestions into Aeneas’ mind are both similar to the role of Athena in The Odyssey. A really strange thought that just occurred to me is that if one believes that supernatural forces can put thoughts into people’s minds, does it follow that it is possible that all human thoughts are actually just placed there by supernatural beings? I wonder if there has ever been a society that believed this to be the case. If this were true, we humans would be computers, essentially. Fascinating.
Journal 11 11/4/2011
Taoism, Daoism; tomatoes, tomahtoes. The poetry of Laozi and the anecdotes of Zhuangzi are vague, but more or less understandable and easy to be processed individually and within their own categories of authorship; however, I have to admit that Taoism as a whole has me spinning. As mentioned in the text and discussed in class, Taoism as a philosophy is more subjective than objective, which makes my adequate small-scale understanding and lack of large-scale understanding relatively acceptable.
Certain of Laozi’s poems seem to me to be more clearly applicable than others. Poem sixteen, for example, includes the following: “Be utterly humble/ and you shall hold to the foundation of peace/ …to accept destiny is to face life with open eyes/ whereas not to accept destiny is to face death blindfold.” These lines refer to the notion of Quietism, which advocates “withdrawal from the turbulence of society and concentration on inner peace and harmony”. The basic tenets of quietism are familiar enough, being common themes within myriad philosophies and systems of belief. The contents of poem eighty-one are similarly resonant: “Real words are not vain/ vain words not real/ and since those who argue prove nothing/ a sensible man does not argue/ a sensible man is wise than he knows/ while a fool knows more than is wise.” I wish the poem had gone on to elaborate on the idea of too much knowledge resulting in foolishness.
Zhuangzi’s anecdotes are slightly more straightforward than Laozi’s poems, possibly because of the fact that poetry is generally more complex than prose by nature. The anecdote of the Ailanthus Tree contains the idea that that which is viewed as “defective” for practical purposes (for example, a knobbed and crooked tree) is in fact better-off than that which is viewed as ripe for use, because “If there’s no use for it, how can it come to grief or pain?” Perhaps this anecdote suggests the virtue of a simple life. “The Death of Lao Tan” and “Transformations” touch on the concept that those who are content with time and able to go along with “the flow” of nature are freed from certain burdens of life, here called “the bonds of God”.
Journal 10 10/31/2011
Although our parody assignment has been my favorite class project so far, I was pleasantly surprised that I had a pretty good time with the group presentation, too. I really connected with my partners, Torri and Rachel, and I think the three of us did a good job of working together on the project. Our topic was “The Good Life”. Initially, I was somewhat bummed with our topic (so many of the others just seemed more interesting and, well, let’s just come out and say it, fun), but learning about Greek philosophers wasn’t as dry as I’d expected it to be. Of the three of us in the presentation group, each presented on a particular philosopher; my philosopher of choice was Epicurus.
Learning about Epicurus is going to stand out in my mind when I reflect on what I’ve learned in Honors 201. I’d heard the word “epicurean” before, but thought it had to do
with fine cuisine. Go figure. As it turns out, Epicurus has more to do with simple fare than fine cuisine, but at least I got the food part right. Epicureanism is kind of like hedonism with manners: it acknowledges that we are motivated by pleasure and shy away from pain, but urges discretion in order to achieve an optimum balance of pleasure and lack of pain. I think this is a pretty straight-forward and no-nonsense philosophy.
My favorite reading from our overall “Good Life” section has been from the Bhagavad Gita. “I am all that you think, all that you say/ everything hangs on me like pearls on a thread/ I am the earth’s scent and the fire’s heat/ I am appearance and disappearance/ I am the trickster’s hoax/ I am the radiance of all that shines/ I am time grown old/ All being fall into the night and all beings are brought back to the daylight/ I have already defeated all these warriors/ But he who thinks he can kill and he who thinks he can be killed are both mistaken/ no weapon can pierce the life that informs you/ no fire can burn it/ no water can drench it/ no wind can make it dry/ have no fear and rise up”. Maybe I’m just being sentimental, but the poetry of the Gita struck me more than its status as an influential philosophical text. But as for me, I think art is a pretty crucial component of the Good Life, so I suppose maybe this makes sense after all.
Journal 9 10/21/2011
It’s hard to believe we’ve just passed the halfway point in the semester. I’m not sure if it feels like I’ve just arrived at college or if I’ve been here for ages; sometimes I think both are correct. Honors 201 was the very first class I attended at college, so every Monday morning I’m reminded a little of my first class day here at Ball State. Aside from Honors 100, which ended a few weeks ago, 201 is the only honors class I’m taking this semester; I can already see the difference between honors classes and general classes, particularly in classroom style. One of the aspects of Honors 201 that stands out prominently in my mind is the nature of discussion in the classroom- whereas most classes are lecture-based, 201 is markedly discussion-centered. And so it should be! As we read ancient texts and try to decipher meanings and adjust our perspectives, it occurs to me that if the class were lecture-based, I would probably read the texts with retention as my objective rather than comprehension. As it is, I start processing information and asking questions as soon as I begin a reading, and in class am able to roll my ideas around with my peers, in whom the readings have caused remarkably similar and remarkably different epiphanies. Through this process, we are able to meet our course objective of accurately observing and reconstructing ideas, philosophies, and modes of thoughts of the Ancient World.
Not only does Honors 201 help me absorb more information from ancient works, but it also helps me interpret it more accurately. We’ve learned in class that context is the key to understanding notions and philosophies both ancient and modern; through the same process of individual evaluation and group discussion mentioned previously, we are able to meet our course objective of analyzing and synthesizing knowledge from multiple sources in order to understand the Ancient World ideals we encounter through text.
When it comes to effort and participation, I’m going to have to be honest and say that I did pretty well for the first few weeks of school, but have since allowed myself to backslide. I’ve overslept a few times and either missed class or arrived late, which definitely disrupts my participation in class either because I completely missed it or because it makes me somewhat flustered. I’m pretty confident in my ability to communicate respectfully and articulately, though, and will continue to make an effort to do so. My promptness could also use some improvement; as it is, I’m doing a fairly shoddy job of remembering to write my journals on time. I’m just going to have to give things a better shot in the next few weeks.
Journal 8 10/19/2011
Last week I finished my parody project: rather queer translations of Sappho’s poems into humorous satire. Granted, I turned my project in late (go figure), but I still am pretty happy with my project as a whole. Is it a great work of literature? No. But did working on my project cause me to give Sappho’s poetry more thought than I would have ordinarily given it? Heck yes! And this is one of the reasons I love parody and satire so much: one is able to absorb the original work in great detail while simultaneously making fun of it. What more is there? Humor and critical thinking are possibly two of the greatest feats of humanity, and at times I think one is necessary for the other. I’ve already talked about this in my analysis, though, so I should probably move on. I was really impressed with the parodies of the others in class. Every single one seemed to be well thought out, original, and revealed that the individual had gotten successfully wrapped up in enjoying their project. My favorite parody? Tough call, but I think the comic strips were particularly creative and the Facebook profiles especially inventive in integrating the ancient with the modern.
Regarding the readings, I was able to get more wrapped up in Antigone than I’ve been in more recent readings. I’m not sure exactly what it was about Antigone that engrossed me so. Perhaps the tragedy aspect? I’m a sucker for drama, and no mistake. This might be somewhat cliché, but I found myself immediately drawing parallels between Antigone and Romeo and Juliet. Antigone involved politics while Romeo and Juliet involved the politics of family, but both illustrate how one’s political actions end up hurting loved ones and, in turn, oneself. Speaking of politics, Creon’s role as a foolish tyrant got me thinking about government. “Power corrupts; absolute power corrupts absolutely.”
This week we’ve been reading Agamemnon and listening to presentations on Heroes and Adventures. It’s appropriate that this reading and these presentations take place during the same week. For obvious reasons, Odysseus is probably the first hero most of us in class think of from our readings; Gilgamesh also stands out prominently in my mind. An interesting development during this class has been a restructuring of my understanding of what it is to be a hero (at least in a literary sense).
Originally, I thought that in order to be a hero a character must be “good”. I’ve come to realize lately, though, that a hero only has to be good in the eyes of those who tell the story. For example, Odysseus is considered a hero by the ancient Greeks who wrote the story of The Odyssey. However, to those who lost the Trojan War, Odysseus would definitely not be considered a hero. I suppose the saying, “History is written by the victors” is somewhat applicable here. One thing that has been confirmed for me, though, is the idea that a hero has to be almost more than human – greater than human in some way. In order to be a hero, it seems that an individual must display humanness through some sort of flaw or feeling, but demonstrate the ability to rise above the limits of the self despite very great humanity.
Journal 6 9/30/2011
As I mentioned in my previous journal, I’m pleasantly surprised that we’re studying the Hebrew Scriptures in this class. I’ve always had a particular interest in Judaism; although the portions of the Hebrew Scriptures we are reading are also considered holy texts in Christianity, it’s interesting to approach this already somewhat familiar material from a different perspective.
Monotheism is a familiar concept in Western society, and this familiarity is what makes it surprisingly difficult to discern how it has shaped our way of life. After all, it’s rather difficult to step back from something so familiar. However, it is easy to see how monotheism affected the culture of Jews in ancient times by analyzing their holy texts, and such analysis can be directed toward modern society to some degree.
On one hand, the unity that monotheism brought to the Jewish people may occur somewhat among all citizens of the Western world. On the other hand, although we are familiar with monotheism, the degree of actual belief and participation in monotheistic religions among people today is probably significantly less than that of members of the Jewish nation of the ancient world. This lapse in actual spirituality may make the unifying effect of monotheism less potent and the consequences of shared monotheistic background more subtle. Additionally, one must consider that more than one specific monotheistic religion is practiced among Westerners; Judaism, Christianity, and Islam are all household names.
Stemming from this last point and from my reading of Job, I wonder if people belonging to Judaism or Christianity today would be able to maintain their faith when faced with crises as astounding and improbable as those of Job?
Journal 5 9/23/2011
I was excited to see on the schedule that we would be reading Sappho this week. I haven’t read much of her work, and I don’t even know much about her to be honest, but what I did read of hers in my high school music history class I very much enjoyed. In that same high school music history class, I learned that the work of Sappho and her contemporaries often falls into the category of lyrics poetry, or poetry performed in a singsong voice with accompaniment on the lyre or another similar instrument. Knowing this made my reading of Sappho for Honors 201 somewhat more enjoyable, because I was able to imagine what Sappho’s work would have sounded like when performed.
Reading Sappho in this class was different from reading her work in high school, though, because in this class we examine her work from a cultural perspective, analyzing the themes in her poetry as reflections of the preoccupations of the society in which it was written. For instance, if it weren’t for this class I might not have analyzed the strong feminine themes included in Sappho’s lyrics as being reflections of Greek polytheism in the form of goddess worship; as it was, I assumed her poetry indicated a certain lesbian persuasion. Whether or not Sappho was, in fact, romantically drawn to other women, seems to be debated, but at least now I know that the feminine themes in her writing aren’t entirely concerned with this particular bit of information.
On another note, I’m excited that we’re reading the Hebrew Scriptures in class. I’ve noticed that some humanities courses take care to detail the influence of the Christian religion on Western society, and vice versa, the Hebrew Scriptures in themselves (as holy texts of the Jewish religion) are sometimes overlooked. This is unfortunate, as Judaism is one of the oldest monotheistic religions.
Journal 4 9/16/2011
After three weeks and 24 books, I’m pleased to be able to say that I’ve now read The Odyssey in its entirety. Odysseus is safe and sound on his beloved Ithaka, Telemakhos stands up alongside the father whose bravery he has heard about his whole life, and Penelope is reunited with her long-absent husband. The suitors and traitorous servants are slain, those loyal to Odysseus are recognized, Laertes is overjoyed in his old age to have his son back in arms, and peace seems to have returned to the house of Odysseus for the first time in nearly two decades.
When Odysseus was first deposited on his home island, I wondered how on earth the rest of the story could take up another eleven books. However, now that I’ve finished all twenty-four books, I see that Odysseus had a lot to sift through before he could just flop down on his couch and prop his feet up on the coffee table. And instead of being annoyed at the story’s dragging on, I’m actually pleasantly surprised by the last bit of the epic. Instead of the traditional ending in which the hero returns home in grand splendor and proceeds to smite his enemies’ ruins upon the mountainside then live happily ever after with his trophy wife and adoring children and servants, The Odyssey spares no detail in the description of how exactly Odysseus takes back his home and brings punishment down on those who have abused it. The great strategic ability of the famed “master mariner” is illustrated for the benefit of the audience.
Another thing I liked about the end of The Odyssey was the reactions of Odysseus’ friends and family members upon his arrival. Telemakhos and Odysseus’ reunion is emotional, as is the reunion between Odysseus and Laertes, but Odysseus’ meetings with the nurse and, finally, his wife Penelope, are somewhat different. The nurse sees past Odysseus’ disguise as a beggar when she accidentally discovers his scar while bathing his feet, prompting Odysseus to essentially “freak out” and go so far as to threaten her in order to make sure she doesn’t ruin his plans. His reunion with Penelope was actually a little humorous to me: Understandably, Penelope doesn’t know whether to believe that her husband is who he claims to be and, likewise understandably, Odysseus is distressed that after all of his trials his wife doubts him. Luckily, before one of them clobbers the other, Penelope is convinced of Odysseus’ identity when he mentions a unique characteristic of the bedroom the two of them shared in the past. This combination of irritation and happiness is a strikingly realistic portrayal of a real human relationship.
Journal 3
9/9/2011
As of this week, we’ve read through book 13 of The Odyssey, and see Odysseus finally returned to his home island of Ithaca. To what end he will come is yet to be discovered – will he banish Penelope’s brazen suitors? will he see his grown son, Telemakhos, returned safely to him? will he be able to display the degree of contrition necessary to pacify the wrathful Poseidon? I look forward to the revelation of the answers to these questions (although I will admit to being somewhat concerned by the prospect of an 11-book conclusion).
An aspect of The Odyssey that seems particularly noteworthy to me is that of the various roles of women throughout the epic. The women of The Odyssey can be grouped into two categories: positively artful, and negatively artful. Although some characters act on behalf of a perceived “good” and others on behalf of a perceived “bad”, they are characterized by ingenuity and cunningness across the board. Examples of positively artful characters include Athena, Penelope, and Nausicaa. Athena does not hesitate to take on impersonations, disguises, visual tricks, and subtle interference, yet seems to act almost entirely out of care for the well-being of those in her favor (particularly Odysseus); Penelope does not express the expected amount of offense at her suitors’ base actions and perhaps even contributes to their continued presence by offering small prompts to each suitor in turn, but clearly still pines away for her long-absent husband, going so far as to undo work on his burial shroud in order to postpone remarriage; the princess Nausicaa lies to her parents about the nature of her initial encounter with Odysseus, but does so out of a desire to avoid awkwardness and distrust among her family and still makes a conscious effort to help Odysseus. Examples of negatively artful characters are somewhat more forthcoming, and include Kalypso, Kirke, and Klytemnestra. Kalypso enchants Odysseus, holding him captive for her own pleasure for a year; similarly, Kirke transfigures Odysseus’ companions into swine and convinces Odysseus to sleep with her in exchange for information on how he may return home, and also goes on to distract him for another year; Klytemnestra is unfaithful to her absent husband and even orchestrates his murder upon his return.
Considering the time in which Homer lived and wrote his great epics, the portrayals of women in The Odyssey is perhaps somewhat forward-thinking. While women are indeed depicted as catty, to say in the least, the point remains that they are at least depicted as possessing a certain power. Women have begun taking on truly dynamic roles in society- roles equivalent to those of men- in just the last century or two; the further one looks back in history, the less social leverage women have exercised. But at least in The Odyssey and contemporary works, women are acknowledged as having influence over the machinations of mortals as well as immortals.
Journal 2 9/2/2011
After completing the first three books of The Odyssey and before proceeding, I have to say I was a little disappointed with the epic. Not because it isn’t an interesting story, but because it’s been touted as one of the greatest tales known to man, and such a standard is difficult to meet. Perhaps it’s unfair of me to judge The Odyssey so quickly, though, considering I’ve only completed a portion of it. I’ll hold off on dubbing it “anticlimactic” for now.
While reading, I’ve been doing some thinking about the plight of Telemakhos. Think about it: Odysseus left for Troy while his son was only an infant and, with his extended absence, Telemakhos was forced to grow up without a father. In such a male-centric society, this would have been even more of a difficulty than it is today. Additionally, Odysseus’ position as ruler of Ithaca meant that his absence was particularly problematic; Telemakhos was eventually entrusted with the care of his father’s estate, without having been properly trained. And, perhaps most obviously, Telemakhos had to deal with the abuses of his mother’s many undesired suitors. It occurred to me, as it surely would have to Telemakhos, that the suitors’ endeavors to secure Penelope as a wife might be simplified with the son Odysseus removed from the picture – an unsettling thought to be sure.
Another thing I’m curious about is the position of authority held by Odysseus. He is referred to as king throughout the work, but I wonder if his kingship is comparable to traditional notions of kingship? For instance, was he the monarch of his own island home of Ithaca? If so, why was his family not shown more respect in his absence? And if he had “subjects”, how were their affairs managed without their king? I’m looking forward to potentially finding answers to some of these questions later in the story.
Journal 1
8/25/2011
“…where are you hurrying to? You will never find that life for which you are looking. When the gods created man they allotted to him death, but life they retained in their own keeping. As for you, Gilgamesh, fill your belly with good things; day and night, night and day, dance and be merry, feast and rejoice. Let your clothes be fresh, bathe yourself in water, cherish the little child that holds your hand, and make your wife happy in your embrace; for this too is the lot of man.” Spoken to Gilgamesh in the land of the gods by the wine-maker Siduri, this passage stands out to me from the text of The Epic of Gilgamesh. I find it interesting that messages of not only universal human concern with the questions of the universe, but also the profound human ability to come to terms with the ambiguity of such questions and the fleeting nature of human existence are present in the oldest known creative work of any substantial length. The omnipresence of these qualities in art, literature, and custom serves as a unification of all humans, providing the sensation that even in death, we share a common bond. We all exist, just as we all will someday cease to exist.
“And though we are not now that strength which in the old days moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are: one equal temper of heroic hearts, made weak by time and fate, but strong in will to strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.”
-Alfred Lord Tennyson, Ulysses
11/11/2011
Finishing The Aeneid has left me with a scattering of miscellaneous thoughts, most of which are regarding the final books of the epic. Firstly, the single combat fight between Aeneas and Turnus makes me wonder about the dynamic of warfare. Why are wars as we know them necessary? Sure, sometimes there seems to be no other alternative for finding a solution for whatever political issues with which one is faced. But why war, from a World War I, trench warfare perspective? Why must hundreds of thousands of soldiers be killed and injured in order to come to a solution? If each of the opposing sides dispatched a single fighter, perhaps war could be performed with less bloodshed. Of course, such a neatly-cut method probably wouldn’t work in most situations dire enough to bring about war. Additionally, often the material costs of war are highly influential to the overall outcome, and warring parties might not come to a solution unless one or both of them were backed into a corner. And, of course, one has to remember that human spirit and emotions play a large part in battle, as evidenced by the fact that Turnus and Aeneas’ fight could be kept between two people for only a brief time before both armies were spurred to action against one another.
Another observation that graced me with its presence was that the spectators at Turnus and Aeneas’ fight were reminiscent of gladiator fights performed for public entertainment- something that definitely didn’t influence the Greek epic, The Odyssey. Although this is most certainly not a unique or original observation, the role Juno plays in influencing the Trojans and the role Venus plays in placing suggestions into Aeneas’ mind are both similar to the role of Athena in The Odyssey. A really strange thought that just occurred to me is that if one believes that supernatural forces can put thoughts into people’s minds, does it follow that it is possible that all human thoughts are actually just placed there by supernatural beings? I wonder if there has ever been a society that believed this to be the case. If this were true, we humans would be computers, essentially. Fascinating.
Journal 11
11/4/2011
Taoism, Daoism; tomatoes, tomahtoes. The poetry of Laozi and the anecdotes of Zhuangzi are vague, but more or less understandable and easy to be processed individually and within their own categories of authorship; however, I have to admit that Taoism as a whole has me spinning. As mentioned in the text and discussed in class, Taoism as a philosophy is more subjective than objective, which makes my adequate small-scale understanding and lack of large-scale understanding relatively acceptable.
Certain of Laozi’s poems seem to me to be more clearly applicable than others. Poem sixteen, for example, includes the following: “Be utterly humble/ and you shall hold to the foundation of peace/ …to accept destiny is to face life with open eyes/ whereas not to accept destiny is to face death blindfold.” These lines refer to the notion of Quietism, which advocates “withdrawal from the turbulence of society and concentration on inner peace and harmony”. The basic tenets of quietism are familiar enough, being common themes within myriad philosophies and systems of belief. The contents of poem eighty-one are similarly resonant: “Real words are not vain/ vain words not real/ and since those who argue prove nothing/ a sensible man does not argue/ a sensible man is wise than he knows/ while a fool knows more than is wise.” I wish the poem had gone on to elaborate on the idea of too much knowledge resulting in foolishness.
Zhuangzi’s anecdotes are slightly more straightforward than Laozi’s poems, possibly because of the fact that poetry is generally more complex than prose by nature. The anecdote of the Ailanthus Tree contains the idea that that which is viewed as “defective” for practical purposes (for example, a knobbed and crooked tree) is in fact better-off than that which is viewed as ripe for use, because “If there’s no use for it, how can it come to grief or pain?” Perhaps this anecdote suggests the virtue of a simple life. “The Death of Lao Tan” and “Transformations” touch on the concept that those who are content with time and able to go along with “the flow” of nature are freed from certain burdens of life, here called “the bonds of God”.
Journal 10
10/31/2011
Although our parody assignment has been my favorite class project so far, I was pleasantly surprised that I had a pretty good time with the group presentation, too. I really connected with my partners, Torri and Rachel, and I think the three of us did a good job of working together on the project. Our topic was “The Good Life”. Initially, I was somewhat bummed with our topic (so many of the others just seemed more interesting and, well, let’s just come out and say it, fun), but learning about Greek philosophers wasn’t as dry as I’d expected it to be. Of the three of us in the presentation group, each presented on a particular philosopher; my philosopher of choice was Epicurus.
Learning about Epicurus is going to stand out in my mind when I reflect on what I’ve learned in Honors 201. I’d heard the word “epicurean” before, but thought it had to do
with fine cuisine. Go figure. As it turns out, Epicurus has more to do with simple fare than fine cuisine, but at least I got the food part right. Epicureanism is kind of like hedonism with manners: it acknowledges that we are motivated by pleasure and shy away from pain, but urges discretion in order to achieve an optimum balance of pleasure and lack of pain. I think this is a pretty straight-forward and no-nonsense philosophy.
My favorite reading from our overall “Good Life” section has been from the Bhagavad Gita. “I am all that you think, all that you say/ everything hangs on me like pearls on a thread/ I am the earth’s scent and the fire’s heat/ I am appearance and disappearance/ I am the trickster’s hoax/ I am the radiance of all that shines/ I am time grown old/ All being fall into the night and all beings are brought back to the daylight/ I have already defeated all these warriors/ But he who thinks he can kill and he who thinks he can be killed are both mistaken/ no weapon can pierce the life that informs you/ no fire can burn it/ no water can drench it/ no wind can make it dry/ have no fear and rise up”. Maybe I’m just being sentimental, but the poetry of the Gita struck me more than its status as an influential philosophical text. But as for me, I think art is a pretty crucial component of the Good Life, so I suppose maybe this makes sense after all.
Journal 9
10/21/2011
It’s hard to believe we’ve just passed the halfway point in the semester. I’m not sure if it feels like I’ve just arrived at college or if I’ve been here for ages; sometimes I think both are correct. Honors 201 was the very first class I attended at college, so every Monday morning I’m reminded a little of my first class day here at Ball State. Aside from Honors 100, which ended a few weeks ago, 201 is the only honors class I’m taking this semester; I can already see the difference between honors classes and general classes, particularly in classroom style. One of the aspects of Honors 201 that stands out prominently in my mind is the nature of discussion in the classroom- whereas most classes are lecture-based, 201 is markedly discussion-centered. And so it should be! As we read ancient texts and try to decipher meanings and adjust our perspectives, it occurs to me that if the class were lecture-based, I would probably read the texts with retention as my objective rather than comprehension. As it is, I start processing information and asking questions as soon as I begin a reading, and in class am able to roll my ideas around with my peers, in whom the readings have caused remarkably similar and remarkably different epiphanies. Through this process, we are able to meet our course objective of accurately observing and reconstructing ideas, philosophies, and modes of thoughts of the Ancient World.
Not only does Honors 201 help me absorb more information from ancient works, but it also helps me interpret it more accurately. We’ve learned in class that context is the key to understanding notions and philosophies both ancient and modern; through the same process of individual evaluation and group discussion mentioned previously, we are able to meet our course objective of analyzing and synthesizing knowledge from multiple sources in order to understand the Ancient World ideals we encounter through text.
When it comes to effort and participation, I’m going to have to be honest and say that I did pretty well for the first few weeks of school, but have since allowed myself to backslide. I’ve overslept a few times and either missed class or arrived late, which definitely disrupts my participation in class either because I completely missed it or because it makes me somewhat flustered. I’m pretty confident in my ability to communicate respectfully and articulately, though, and will continue to make an effort to do so. My promptness could also use some improvement; as it is, I’m doing a fairly shoddy job of remembering to write my journals on time. I’m just going to have to give things a better shot in the next few weeks.
Journal 8
10/19/2011
Last week I finished my parody project: rather queer translations of Sappho’s poems into humorous satire. Granted, I turned my project in late (go figure), but I still am pretty happy with my project as a whole. Is it a great work of literature? No. But did working on my project cause me to give Sappho’s poetry more thought than I would have ordinarily given it? Heck yes! And this is one of the reasons I love parody and satire so much: one is able to absorb the original work in great detail while simultaneously making fun of it. What more is there? Humor and critical thinking are possibly two of the greatest feats of humanity, and at times I think one is necessary for the other. I’ve already talked about this in my analysis, though, so I should probably move on. I was really impressed with the parodies of the others in class. Every single one seemed to be well thought out, original, and revealed that the individual had gotten successfully wrapped up in enjoying their project. My favorite parody? Tough call, but I think the comic strips were particularly creative and the Facebook profiles especially inventive in integrating the ancient with the modern.
Regarding the readings, I was able to get more wrapped up in Antigone than I’ve been in more recent readings. I’m not sure exactly what it was about Antigone that engrossed me so. Perhaps the tragedy aspect? I’m a sucker for drama, and no mistake. This might be somewhat cliché, but I found myself immediately drawing parallels between Antigone and Romeo and Juliet. Antigone involved politics while Romeo and Juliet involved the politics of family, but both illustrate how one’s political actions end up hurting loved ones and, in turn, oneself. Speaking of politics, Creon’s role as a foolish tyrant got me thinking about government. “Power corrupts; absolute power corrupts absolutely.”
Parody: Poems of Sappho
And if you're particularly interested:
Journal 710/7/2011
This week we’ve been reading Agamemnon and listening to presentations on Heroes and Adventures. It’s appropriate that this reading and these presentations take place during the same week. For obvious reasons, Odysseus is probably the first hero most of us in class think of from our readings; Gilgamesh also stands out prominently in my mind. An interesting development during this class has been a restructuring of my understanding of what it is to be a hero (at least in a literary sense).
Originally, I thought that in order to be a hero a character must be “good”. I’ve come to realize lately, though, that a hero only has to be good in the eyes of those who tell the story. For example, Odysseus is considered a hero by the ancient Greeks who wrote the story of The Odyssey. However, to those who lost the Trojan War, Odysseus would definitely not be considered a hero. I suppose the saying, “History is written by the victors” is somewhat applicable here.
One thing that has been confirmed for me, though, is the idea that a hero has to be almost more than human – greater than human in some way. In order to be a hero, it seems that an individual must display humanness through some sort of flaw or feeling, but demonstrate the ability to rise above the limits of the self despite very great humanity.
Journal 6
9/30/2011
As I mentioned in my previous journal, I’m pleasantly surprised that we’re studying the Hebrew Scriptures in this class. I’ve always had a particular interest in Judaism; although the portions of the Hebrew Scriptures we are reading are also considered holy texts in Christianity, it’s interesting to approach this already somewhat familiar material from a different perspective.
Monotheism is a familiar concept in Western society, and this familiarity is what makes it surprisingly difficult to discern how it has shaped our way of life. After all, it’s rather difficult to step back from something so familiar. However, it is easy to see how monotheism affected the culture of Jews in ancient times by analyzing their holy texts, and such analysis can be directed toward modern society to some degree.
On one hand, the unity that monotheism brought to the Jewish people may occur somewhat among all citizens of the Western world. On the other hand, although we are familiar with monotheism, the degree of actual belief and participation in monotheistic religions among people today is probably significantly less than that of members of the Jewish nation of the ancient world. This lapse in actual spirituality may make the unifying effect of monotheism less potent and the consequences of shared monotheistic background more subtle. Additionally, one must consider that more than one specific monotheistic religion is practiced among Westerners; Judaism, Christianity, and Islam are all household names.
Stemming from this last point and from my reading of Job, I wonder if people belonging to Judaism or Christianity today would be able to maintain their faith when faced with crises as astounding and improbable as those of Job?
Journal 5
9/23/2011
I was excited to see on the schedule that we would be reading Sappho this week. I haven’t read much of her work, and I don’t even know much about her to be honest, but what I did read of hers in my high school music history class I very much enjoyed. In that same high school music history class, I learned that the work of Sappho and her contemporaries often falls into the category of lyrics poetry, or poetry performed in a singsong voice with accompaniment on the lyre or another similar instrument. Knowing this made my reading of Sappho for Honors 201 somewhat more enjoyable, because I was able to imagine what Sappho’s work would have sounded like when performed.
Reading Sappho in this class was different from reading her work in high school, though, because in this class we examine her work from a cultural perspective, analyzing the themes in her poetry as reflections of the preoccupations of the society in which it was written. For instance, if it weren’t for this class I might not have analyzed the strong feminine themes included in Sappho’s lyrics as being reflections of Greek polytheism in the form of goddess worship; as it was, I assumed her poetry indicated a certain lesbian persuasion. Whether or not Sappho was, in fact, romantically drawn to other women, seems to be debated, but at least now I know that the feminine themes in her writing aren’t entirely concerned with this particular bit of information.
On another note, I’m excited that we’re reading the Hebrew Scriptures in class. I’ve noticed that some humanities courses take care to detail the influence of the Christian religion on Western society, and vice versa, the Hebrew Scriptures in themselves (as holy texts of the Jewish religion) are sometimes overlooked. This is unfortunate, as Judaism is one of the oldest monotheistic religions.
Journal 4
9/16/2011
After three weeks and 24 books, I’m pleased to be able to say that I’ve now read The Odyssey in its entirety. Odysseus is safe and sound on his beloved Ithaka, Telemakhos stands up alongside the father whose bravery he has heard about his whole life, and Penelope is reunited with her long-absent husband. The suitors and traitorous servants are slain, those loyal to Odysseus are recognized, Laertes is overjoyed in his old age to have his son back in arms, and peace seems to have returned to the house of Odysseus for the first time in nearly two decades.
When Odysseus was first deposited on his home island, I wondered how on earth the rest of the story could take up another eleven books. However, now that I’ve finished all twenty-four books, I see that Odysseus had a lot to sift through before he could just flop down on his couch and prop his feet up on the coffee table. And instead of being annoyed at the story’s dragging on, I’m actually pleasantly surprised by the last bit of the epic. Instead of the traditional ending in which the hero returns home in grand splendor and proceeds to smite his enemies’ ruins upon the mountainside then live happily ever after with his trophy wife and adoring children and servants, The Odyssey spares no detail in the description of how exactly Odysseus takes back his home and brings punishment down on those who have abused it. The great strategic ability of the famed “master mariner” is illustrated for the benefit of the audience.
Another thing I liked about the end of The Odyssey was the reactions of Odysseus’ friends and family members upon his arrival. Telemakhos and Odysseus’ reunion is emotional, as is the reunion between Odysseus and Laertes, but Odysseus’ meetings with the nurse and, finally, his wife Penelope, are somewhat different. The nurse sees past Odysseus’ disguise as a beggar when she accidentally discovers his scar while bathing his feet, prompting Odysseus to essentially “freak out” and go so far as to threaten her in order to make sure she doesn’t ruin his plans. His reunion with Penelope was actually a little humorous to me: Understandably, Penelope doesn’t know whether to believe that her husband is who he claims to be and, likewise understandably, Odysseus is distressed that after all of his trials his wife doubts him. Luckily, before one of them clobbers the other, Penelope is convinced of Odysseus’ identity when he mentions a unique characteristic of the bedroom the two of them shared in the past. This combination of irritation and happiness is a strikingly realistic portrayal of a real human relationship.
Journal 3
9/9/2011
As of this week, we’ve read through book 13 of The Odyssey, and see Odysseus finally returned to his home island of Ithaca. To what end he will come is yet to be discovered – will he banish Penelope’s brazen suitors? will he see his grown son, Telemakhos, returned safely to him? will he be able to display the degree of contrition necessary to pacify the wrathful Poseidon? I look forward to the revelation of the answers to these questions (although I will admit to being somewhat concerned by the prospect of an 11-book conclusion).An aspect of The Odyssey that seems particularly noteworthy to me is that of the various roles of women throughout the epic. The women of The Odyssey can be grouped into two categories: positively artful, and negatively artful. Although some characters act on behalf of a perceived “good” and others on behalf of a perceived “bad”, they are characterized by ingenuity and cunningness across the board. Examples of positively artful characters include Athena, Penelope, and Nausicaa. Athena does not hesitate to take on impersonations, disguises, visual tricks, and subtle interference, yet seems to act almost entirely out of care for the well-being of those in her favor (particularly Odysseus); Penelope does not express the expected amount of offense at her suitors’ base actions and perhaps even contributes to their continued presence by offering small prompts to each suitor in turn, but clearly still pines away for her long-absent husband, going so far as to undo work on his burial shroud in order to postpone remarriage; the princess Nausicaa lies to her parents about the nature of her initial encounter with Odysseus, but does so out of a desire to avoid awkwardness and distrust among her family and still makes a conscious effort to help Odysseus. Examples of negatively artful characters are somewhat more forthcoming, and include Kalypso, Kirke, and Klytemnestra. Kalypso enchants Odysseus, holding him captive for her own pleasure for a year; similarly, Kirke transfigures Odysseus’ companions into swine and convinces Odysseus to sleep with her in exchange for information on how he may return home, and also goes on to distract him for another year; Klytemnestra is unfaithful to her absent husband and even orchestrates his murder upon his return.
Considering the time in which Homer lived and wrote his great epics, the portrayals of women in The Odyssey is perhaps somewhat forward-thinking. While women are indeed depicted as catty, to say in the least, the point remains that they are at least depicted as possessing a certain power. Women have begun taking on truly dynamic roles in society- roles equivalent to those of men- in just the last century or two; the further one looks back in history, the less social leverage women have exercised. But at least in The Odyssey and contemporary works, women are acknowledged as having influence over the machinations of mortals as well as immortals.
Journal 2
9/2/2011
After completing the first three books of The Odyssey and before proceeding, I have to say I was a little disappointed with the epic. Not because it isn’t an interesting story, but because it’s been touted as one of the greatest tales known to man, and such a standard is difficult to meet. Perhaps it’s unfair of me to judge The Odyssey so quickly, though, considering I’ve only completed a portion of it. I’ll hold off on dubbing it “anticlimactic” for now.
While reading, I’ve been doing some thinking about the plight of Telemakhos. Think about it: Odysseus left for Troy while his son was only an infant and, with his extended absence, Telemakhos was forced to grow up without a father. In such a male-centric society, this would have been even more of a difficulty than it is today. Additionally, Odysseus’ position as ruler of Ithaca meant that his absence was particularly problematic; Telemakhos was eventually entrusted with the care of his father’s estate, without having been properly trained. And, perhaps most obviously, Telemakhos had to deal with the abuses of his mother’s many undesired suitors. It occurred to me, as it surely would have to Telemakhos, that the suitors’ endeavors to secure Penelope as a wife might be simplified with the son Odysseus removed from the picture – an unsettling thought to be sure.
Another thing I’m curious about is the position of authority held by Odysseus. He is referred to as king throughout the work, but I wonder if his kingship is comparable to traditional notions of kingship? For instance, was he the monarch of his own island home of Ithaca? If so, why was his family not shown more respect in his absence? And if he had “subjects”, how were their affairs managed without their king? I’m looking forward to potentially finding answers to some of these questions later in the story.
Journal 1
8/25/2011
“…where are you hurrying to? You will never find that life for which you are looking. When the gods created man they allotted to him death, but life they retained in their own keeping. As for you, Gilgamesh, fill your belly with good things; day and night, night and day, dance and be merry, feast and rejoice. Let your clothes be fresh, bathe yourself in water, cherish the little child that holds your hand, and make your wife happy in your embrace; for this too is the lot of man.” Spoken to Gilgamesh in the land of the gods by the wine-maker Siduri, this passage stands out to me from the text of The Epic of Gilgamesh. I find it interesting that messages of not only universal human concern with the questions of the universe, but also the profound human ability to come to terms with the ambiguity of such questions and the fleeting nature of human existence are present in the oldest known creative work of any substantial length. The omnipresence of these qualities in art, literature, and custom serves as a unification of all humans, providing the sensation that even in death, we share a common bond. We all exist, just as we all will someday cease to exist.
“And though we are not now that strength which in the old days moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are: one equal temper of heroic hearts, made weak by time and fate, but strong in will to strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.”
-Alfred Lord Tennyson, Ulysses