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George Santayana, the Spanish-American philosopher, poet, and Harvard professor once stated “Wisdom comes by disillusionment”. This statement shows that with having no more misconceptions or false impressions of people or reality, individuals are then more knowledgeable of what is true or right, paired with just judgment as to action or insight.
Just like any other child, I believed my father was the most amazing person in the world. I believed he had my sisters and my best interests at heart; consequently, doing anything and everything in his power to benefit our well being. However, at the age of eleven this illusion gradually started fading. The illusion of my father disappeared because he deemed his marriage to my stepmother was more
significant than his own children. My stepmother hated my siblings and I with a deep passion and unknown reasoning. One day my stepmother awoke and decided she no longer wants my eldest sister, Ashley, to live under her roof anymore; thus, giving my father the conundrum of choosing his child or his wife. Unfortunately, he chose his wife and not only was Ashley removed from our household but she was also removed from our family. This only begun the to shatter the illusion of my father. As time went on the power my stepmother had over my father drastically increased, until she had diminished all of his control in our lives. After Ashley was no longer a trouble to my stepmother, she then turned her hatred towards my youngest sibling and I. My stepmother tortured us for years, while my father turned a blind eye. Eventually the abuse turned physical and my father just sat there silently watching, doing nothing to stop my stepmother. The first time I realized my father was never going to intervene with the abuse I was filled with nothing but hopelessness and disillusion. Although, this was a devastating experience, I learned at a young age that everyone, including family, will not act in your best interest. I also learned that no matter how important you are supposed to mean to someone does not mean they will do right for or by.
I’ve never heard of any childhood quite like yours. I was shocked by the personality and character of your parents and how they raised you and your sibilings, “The Glass Castle”. I understand why people call your parents monsters. I will admit that the thought crossed my own mind on multiple occasions. However, I have also never read a book or a memoir that required so much thinking . With every page I read I was able to learn about the struggles & hardships you dealt with as a child and I tried to see a deeper meaning. When I did that, I saw your parent’s intentions behind everything they did. I began to understand what you saw and still see in your parents.
A child’s destiny crucially and heavily relies on the parental figures in their lives. Without such beacons of authority children in these broken homes easily feel partial, mislaid and typically turn out to be errant. The novel “Father Cry” by William Wilson, beautifully covers both the ideas of spiritual parental figures and physical parental figures. Analyzing several different subjects such as heartbreak, love, hope and many more, this book is able to holistically cover the general subject of parenthood. This is an amazing book with many things that one can learn from. Many ideas and topics in this book opened my eyes, pushing me to the verge of tears in some parts. That being said, one subject in particular that most impacted me was the
“Knowledge will forever govern ignorance; and a people who mean to be their own governors must arm themselves with the power which knowledge gives” ~ James Madison
Growing up, I always assumed that my parents would grow old together. I fantasized about introducing my future children to their still-married grandparents and attending, if not personally planning, my parent’s fiftieth anniversary celebration. Although my parents fought and struggled with areas of perpetual disagreement, somehow things always worked out and in my naivety, I believed they always would. However, as time progressed, the unresolved, and in some cases unspoken, issues that had plagued my parent’s marriage since its conception festered and ultimately reached intractable proportions. As a messy divorce loomed, each parent explained his version of the events and “irreconcilable differences” engendering a separation. Although the facts presented in each account matched, my parent’s respective interpretations of the facts differed greatly. As I listened to my parent’s rationalize their inability to get along, I realized that although my parent’s stories did not match, neither party was actually lying. Each parent simply presented to me his or her version of the reasons for divorce. I knew that somewhere hidden in the subtext of my parent’s explanations laid the truth. As I sifted through the slightly convoluted information, I began to wonder, “Is reality a relative concept?” After reviewing my personal experience, Christopher Durang’s play Beyond Therapy, and Edward Albee’s Who’s afraid of Virginia Woolf?, I reached the conclusion that, as inherently paradoxical as it seems, reality exists as a relative concept.
Throughout human existence, scholars have earnestly pursued knowledge and the attainment of truth. Historical figures such as Plato, Descartes, and Emerson sought answers to daunting questions of: ‘What is truth?’; ‘What is reality?’; ‘How is wisdom acquired?’ Many scholars believe these philosophers presented conflicting viewpoints: Plato encouraging skepticism among all previous historical, cultural, and personal perspectives; Descartes questioning definitions of reality and his very existence; Emerson encouraging self-trust and confidence in one’s ideals, opinions, and convictions. Surprisingly, reconciliation can be reached from these three differing hypotheses. Emerson’s thesis merely expounds from Descartes and Plato’s philosophies. He builds from Descartes’ search for self-identity and reconciles Plato’s skepticism with his views of self-trust and unconformity among scholars.
Growing up with a father who blamed me for the death of his wife which of course broke through any happiness, care or love he felt for me his own son. My house was always filled with dark gloomy colors and we never really had guests over at all. My father was a mystery most people but in his job he had power over people because they were frightened by his just by his presence. It was a very rare pleasure filled with fright when we spoke and I can only think of one time where I got a hint of positive feeling from him. It was a dark, rainy gloomy day and the house never held a promise for the future so I was constantly bored and decided to read some old books from my father’s dusty library. There I sat with a book in hand picking up any knowledge that I possibly could and he walked in and said to me “Montressor, you impress me with act of trying to do something useful”, I replied to him with the only thing I could ever say to him, yes sir. I can only remember the constant hate I would receive from him and it made me think that I would never please
So to say, knowledge can either make or break a person. It can act as a benefit, for power, or loss, for ignorance. “Do not take for granted what you know. Ask yourself how you know what you know; ask yourself whom it benefits, whom it hurts and why.” (Blackboard: Knowledge is Power)
showed itself at moments, and I always was deeply upset knowing, his father could never do
It has been said that ignorance is bliss and if we do not know that something more exists, we do not yearn for it. It has also been said that the door to enlightenment and inner wisdom, once opened, can never be closed again. Many great philosophers and teachers have dealt with the idea of whether it is better to live a life of servitude and submission, or are we to pursue a life of personal happiness and emotional freedom.
Kant’s definition of Enlightenment is man's emergence from his self-incurred nonage (immaturity). Immaturity is the inability to use one's own understanding without the external guidance. This immaturity is self-incurred by an individual and it is not because of lack of understanding, but rather lack of resolution and courage to use it without the guidance of another. So the motto of enlightenment is Sapere aude (Latin word which means ‘dare to know’ or ‘dare to be wise’) or in other words it is to have courage to use your own understanding. Reasons for the large proportion of people to be immature are laziness and cowardice. And it is convenient to immature as it is an easier option available. Suppose I have a book which understands me, a spiritual adviser to have a conscience for me, a physician to judge my diet for me and so on then I don’t need to make any efforts at all and I need not think as long as I can pay, others will take up my tiresome job and this is an easier choice than to do all the work by myself. Naturally lot of people prefer easier things instead of taking a chal...
I was raised by my mother and grandmother. They kept my head leveled and taught me that working hard leads to success. I loved them, and they were my role models. I grew up in a middle class family with strong women. I learned independence, and the strong will to never give up. It was the summer of 2005 when my mother re-married, and I was in the eighth grade. My mother was happy because she found the conclusion to her life: a husband. I was ecstatic because I finally had a daddy! My hopes, wishes, and dreams had come true. I felt that God answered my prayers. I loved having a father figure, although I had certain doubts. My uncertainty came from the way he looked at me. He looked at me the way men crave women. However, I concealed my unclear feelings because I did not want to ruin the current circumstances. Unfortunately, all of my suspicions were true.
Looking back at my past, I recall my mother and father’s relationship as if it were yesterday. I am only four years old, small and curious; I tended to walk around my home aimlessly. I would climb book shelves like a mountain explorer venturing through the Himalayans, draw on walls to open windows to my own imagination, or run laps around the living room rug because to me I was an Olympic track star competing for her gold medal; however my parents did not enjoy my rambunctious imagination. My parents never punished me for it but would blame each other for horrible parenting skills; at the time I did not understand their fights, but instead was curious about why they would fight.
“Immaturity is the incapacity to use one’s intelligence without the guidance of another.”-Kant “What is Enlightenment”
It was Friday night, I took a shower, and one of my aunts came into the bathroom and told me that my dad was sick but he was going to be ok. She told me that so I did not worry. I finished taking a bath, and I immediately went to my daddy’s house to see what was going on. My dad was throwing-up blood, and he could not breath very well. One of my aunts cried and prayed at the same time. I felt worried because she only does that when something bad is going to happen. More people were trying to help my dad until the doctor came. Everybody cried, and I was confused because I thought it was just a stomachache. I asked one of my older brothers if my dad was going to be ok, but he did not answer my question and push me away. My body shock to see him dying, and I took his hand and told him not to give up. The only thing that I heard from him was, “Daughters go to auntie...
It was around 2:00pm and it was time to open presents. I started with opening friend’s presents then I opened families. I was finally done opening all my presents. I looked around at all the people, who were looking at me and my dad was nowhere to be. That was the only present that I was looking forward too. The party ended and my dad didn’t show up, my little four years old hopes were in the ground, it was like I could feel my heart ripping appart. I looked at my mom and she mouthed I’m sorry, my faced turned rosy red and my eyes filled with tears. From that moment on my life was never the same. It was a dark cloudy day and I was going to see my dad. We were playing the game Sorry and he was winning. I was the yellow player and he was the green player, he was laughing and smiling the whole time. I wouldn’t have wanted to spend my Friday afternoon any other way. When the game was over he asked me to clean up the game while he went out to smoke a cig. When he entered the room and the game wasn’t picked up, he went crazy. His eyes seemed to turn a dark almost black color. It was like he was a completely different person when he came back