I thought I was independent my entire life. I thought that I did not need anyone in order to get things done or get by. You try to act tough and be brave in order for the people around you to give you respect. You believe that you are bigger than the world, that you are invincible. But then something happens that makes you realize that you are not as tough as you once thought. You realize that the world is full of surprises and one day the floor could just be pulled from under you. My mother received a call that I could tell really hurt her. Her eyes watering she asked, “what happened?,” as her voice cracked. I started to get scared and asked, “What’s wrong?What’s going on?” She looked at me and said, “Candida passed away.” In this moment …show more content…
I was angry at God for taking away the one person who showed me love without having to. This amazing woman was not part of my family and had no obligation to care for me but choose to anyhow, without expecting anything in return. When no one else was around to lend a helping hand to my young mother, while she tried to complete her college degree and raise two children she was the one person who offered. She would treat me like her own child and the hardest thing I ever had to do was leave her behind when I moved to this country. Every time I visited my country and had to come back I would break down in tears since I knew that I would not be able to see her in a very long time. Candida was not in the best standing financially but every year on my birthday she would make the extra effort and buy a phone card just to sing to me. She would always bring a smile to my face and reassure me that we would see each other very soon. She was my mother and I had lost …show more content…
I would ask the Nun, “Why we prayed to the statue in front of the church if it states in the bible that we can’t worship an image?” I asked questions that no one could answer with enough information to satisfy me. Certain things did not add up in my mind and I started to move away from the church. These unanswered questions never made me move away from God since I was raised a Catholic, taught to follow the rules of the church. I completed everything that was expected of me such as my baptism, communion, and confirmation. But conforming to these beliefs and ideologies that I did not necessarily hold to be true, was not something that I wanted for myself. I am the type of person that wants to know the logic or the reason behind something that someone wants me to follow. I won't just blindly do something since I would have to answer for my own actions. I changed my mindset. I no longer accept things that do not make any sense. This new perspective has made me who I am today. I am someone who questions things and likes to dig deeper then what is simply presented. I want to know the reasons behind something and discover what makes people do the things they
Watching a film, one can easily recognize plot, theme, characterization, etc., but not many realize what basic principle lies behind nearly every story conceived: the hero’s journey. This concept allows for a comprehensive, logical flow throughout a movie. Once the hero’s journey is thoroughly understood, anyone can pick out the elements in nearly every piece. The hero’s journey follows a simple outline. First the hero in question must have a disadvantaged childhood. Next the hero will find a mentor who wisely lays out his/her prophecy. Third the hero will go on a journey, either literal or figurative, to find him/herself. On this journey the hero will be discouraged and nearly quit his/her quest. Finally, the hero will fulfill the prophecy and find his/herself, realizing his/her full potential. This rubric may be easy to spot in epic action films, but if upon close inspection is found in a wide array of genres, some of which are fully surprising.
There are many stories that follow Joseph Campbell's Hero's Journey, and tells the tale of a Heroic character. These fables introduces us to heroes that begin their journey in an ordinary place, then receive a call to enter an unknown world full of bizarre powers and peculiar events. These heroes often display great traits, such as bravery or intelligence, that defines their character. One of these heroic's tales is Haroun and the Sea of Stories, telling the adventures of a young man named Haroun. This essay will prove that Haroun from Haroun and the Sea of Stories by Salman Rushdie is a hero, because he possess heroic qualities. Haroun shows his heroic qualities by overcoming obstacles, helping his friends, and having good intentions.
“The journey of the hero is about the courage to seek the depths; the image of creative rebirth; the eternal cycle of change within us; the uncanny discovery that the seeker is the mystery which the seeker seeks to know. The hero journey is a symbol that binds, in the original sense of the word, two distant ideas, and the spiritual quest of the ancients with the modern search for identity always the one, shape-shifting yet marvelously constant story that we find.” (Phil Cousineau) The Hero's Journey has been engaged in stories for an immemorial amount of time. These stories target typical connections that help us relate to ourselves as well as the “real world”.
The word hero as defined as an “individual who has the courage of conviction to perform feats that benefit the general populace, acts as a soldier of virtue, and has an altruistic spirit that urges him or her to act against evil and defend the greater good at all costs, even sacrificing his own well-being or life.” (Harrison 2). Although heroes can come in any shape and size they are commonly found in stories we read, movies we watch, or people we look up to. We do not think about it much but even our own life is made up of many hero’s journeys. We never realize that our hardships and how we overcome them is exactly what a Hero’s Journey is about and why we relate to and enjoy these stories so much. I will be going into the depths of a Hero’s
Joseph Campbell defines a hero as “someone who has given his or her life to something bigger than oneself ” (Moyers 1). The Hero’s Journey consists of three major parts: the separation, the initiation and the return. Throughout a character’s journey, they must complete a physical or spiritual deed. A physical deed involves performing a daunting and courageous act that preserves the well-being of another person. A spiritual deed calls for action that improves another individual’s state of mind. While fulfilling their journey, a hero must undergo a psychological change that involves experiencing a transformation from immaturity into independence and sophistication.Campbell states that these events are what ultimately guides a hero into completing
t was a sunny Friday morning when the news arrived. The perfect weather was an ironic slap to the face as we endured one of the worst days of our lives. A shrill ring from the phone grabbed the attention of all of us. The image of my mother’s face is burned into my memory forever. As she hung up the phone, I already knew the news was not what we had expected. She burst into tears as my father held her, tears falling from his own eyes. That day she was diagnosed with ductal carcinoma in situ, a form of breast cancer. That day was her 50th birthday.
The AIDS hospice reeked from disease and neglect. On my first day there, after an hour of "training," I met Paul, a tall, emaciated, forty-year-old AIDS victim who was recovering from a stroke that had severely affected his speech. I took him to General Hospital for a long-overdue appointment. It had been weeks since he had been outside. After waiting for two and a half hours, he was called in and then needed to wait another two hours for his prescription. Hungry, I suggested we go and get some lunch. At first Paul resisted; he didn't want to accept the lunch offer. Estranged from his family and seemingly ignored by his friends, he wasn't used to anyone being kind to him - even though I was only talking about a Big Mac. When it arrived, Paul took his first bite. Suddenly, his face lit up with the biggest, most radiant smile. He was on top of the world because somebody bought him a hamburger. Amazing. So little bought so much. While elated that I had literally made Paul's day, the neglect and emotional isolation from which he suffered disgusted me. This was a harsh side of medicine I had not seen before. Right then and there, I wondered, "Do I really want to go into medicine?"
Terrie is a woman that loves everyone. She is a kindhearted person and doesn’t see a dark soul in anyone. Ten months earlier, she was diagnosed with stage two breast cancer; a week after that, it turned into stage four. I took the news very hard. For several months, we shared stories, laughed together and ate potato chips, since that was the only thing she could taste and keep down with her chemo treatment. After eight months, she snuck up behind me and gave me a big hug. It was one of those hugs that held onto me emotionally. After that I never saw her again, until this moment: I broke down into tears while my friend witnessed it. I didn’t go to work that day, I stayed home making phone calls and praying that I would be able to see her one last time. My mother came home to comfort me. She got a phone call stating that Terrie was asking about me. My mother rushed us both in the little red car to the hospital. I ran up
In the distant future, 2030, someone is watching over Earth in a space tower full of windows. The figure lurks in the shadows showing a small glimpse of lavender skin and their blue eyes shone in the light. Then the figure steps in the light showing a slim figure, luscious pink hair flowing down her back to her thighs, hanging in a long ponytail, her blue eyes glistening, her lavender skin barely showing. She turns to the platform supporting the control panels and steering wheel. “No one is in need at this hour?” the alienated girl questioned. She slipped out of her silver battle armor, an armor with the richest material of metal, so silver you could see your face in the reflection
When the doctors told my mom that she only had twenty-four hours to live, she didn’t believe them and fought for her life? In June of 2004, she was diagnosed with a rare disease, which, at the time only 60 people in America had been diagnosed with. The disease is so rare that her doctors did not know how to diagnose it at first. The diagnosis did not even come from the local hospital; they collectively came from Johns Hopkins, Cleveland Clinic, and The Ohio State University Medical Center.
The phone rang early the morning of July 21, 2013. It was a call from my brother-in-law telling me the news of my mother's death. The news came as no surprise. She was diagnosed with terminal cancer in May of 2013, and her death had been expected. I had been trying to prepare myself for this day ever since I had heard the diagnosis.
It was June 6, 2011. I remember taking my mother to the County Hospital’s emergency room. She seemed extremely exhausted; her eyes were half-closed and yellow, and she placed her elbow on the armchair, resting her head on her palm. I remember it was crowded and the wait was long, so she wanted to leave. I was the only one there with her, but I did not allow her to convince me to take her home. I told her in Spanish, “Mom, let’s wait so that we can get this over with and know what’s going on with you. You’ll see everything is okay, and we’ll go home later on.” I wish then and now that would have been the case. Unfortunately, she was diagnosed with colon cancer that had spread to many parts of her body including her lungs and kidneys. The doctor said to me not considering that I was a minor and my mother’s daughter, “Her disease is very advanced and we don’t think she will live longer than a year.” With this devastating news, I did not know what to do. I thought to myself that perhaps I should cry, or try to forget and take care of her as best I could and make her laugh to ease her pain.
On the day my father died, I remember walking home from school with my cousin on a November fall day, feeling the falling leaves dropping off the trees, hitting my cold bare face. Walking into the house, I could feel the tension and knew that something had happened by the look on my grandmother’s face. As I started to head to the refrigerator, my mother told me to come, and she said that we were going to take a trip to the hospital.
I started to cry all the time, even during school. I just couldn’t hold back the tears any longer. I was not the same person anymore. I felt hopeless. I didn’t think that anything would work and no one could do anything about it. I felt so alone and powerless. I kept thinking, "how could God be doing this to me. I 've been in so much pain for so long, when was it going to stop?" I was so frustrated with God that he wasn’t answering my prayers, he wasn 't helping me get through my problems, and I couldn’t help but feeling abandoned by him. This led me to start thinking that he wasn’t there listening to me. I started to question if there really was a God or if this whole Catholic faith was just a joke. I stopped believing in God, because if He was really there, then how could he let his child suffer like this? I would go to church still, but only because my parents made me, but I didn 't sing or say any if the prayers because I didn 't believe in anything they
The truth always seemed to be slant in my family when it came to my mom’s health. She had been sick to for as long as I can remember. I knew when she was sick but never knew why. But when my father gave me a petite