Seminar Reflection
For my reflection I chose the third option. I wanted to choose the third option because I can really expand my idea of this.
I see the child and can’t move. He or she is just sitting there, in its own excrement, crying and looking blindly because the dim light is behind us. All of us look in disgust, yet once told why the child is down there, most seem all right with it. Not me though, I just stand there, like a deer in front of a car light. I don’t move for hours, until I am just walking, walking into the mountains. I don’t know why I start walking, but I do. I don’t say anything I just leave. I hike for hours until I feel tired. Even then I cannot stop. I walk through the cold, dark night, yet I don’t stop. It takes me hours to realize that I’ve been walking for an entire day and need to rest.
I try to sleep; yet that child stays in my mind, crying and looking at me with an invitation of death. I wake up from the sound of fireworks from Omelas. Even with them knowing the child is suffering, they enjoy fireworks so big, I can hear them from here. It was that moment that I realized that I couldn’t go back to a place of happiness that is formed on that one boy. So I continue walking towards the top of the mountains. I strive to find a place that has real happiness where all is fair. Though when I slowly start getting higher, I see fragments of bones. I figure that it is from the dead that saw what I saw. That made the noble choice to walk away. This doesn’t discourage me though. As I walk higher and higher I slowly start to see fresher bodies, still with rotting flesh on their bodies. With all this death around me I fail to see my feet are bleeding from all the walking. I look at bodies that have barely been eaten by wild animals. Their shoes look new with fine leather, so I put them on. They are comfortable and just my size.
I continue to walk after tying my new shoes. Yet that helps me little because a blizzard out of nowhere starts up with the power of god behind it. I can’t see two feet in front of me, which doesn’t matter because it is so cold I see my clothes start to freeze. So I get behind a rock and huddle up. I know I stand no chance against this weather. So I say my goodbyes in my head and my body, like many others, shows that we made the choice to not be a part of something like Omelas. Right after fading into darkness, I open my eyes. I have no clothes on and am in a full white room. I get up and walk around when all of the sudden I see a man in the corner of the room. I jump ten feet into the air and get to the opposite side. He says, “Don’t worry, don’t worry, you are in no harm.” I ask, “Where am I, what is this, why am I naked?” The man says, “You are in purgatory, you have passed the test of life, instead of living with the knowledge of an innocent child suffering, you would rather try to find something better and die. For this you are rewarded to a place beyond your dreams.” He opens up a white door and a bright light shines. After my eyes adjust I see it, and all I can describe of this place is pure happiness.
Does our culture have its own small child in a broom closet? To me, yes, our culture has other people suffering in order for others to be happy; though our culture needs more people suffering in order for us to be happy. An example of this goes back to my theory in seminar that people need to be a lower class in order for others to strive. You think people want to work at Walmart and sell us our crap, or do you think people’s dream is to stock a shelf at Office depot with our pens? No, but people in the 3 higher classes need them to so they can enjoy their lives. Even though this article uses a different concept, the author says in the story, “They all understand that their happiness, the beauty of their city, the tenderness of their friendships, the health of their children, the wisdom of their scholars, the skill of their makers, even the abundance of their harvest and the kindly weathers of their skies, depend wholly on this child's abominable misery.” And even though our worlds think differently it is the same concept where happiness comes from someone else’s misery, with or without knowing it.
I see the child and can’t move. He or she is just sitting there, in its own excrement, crying and looking blindly because the dim light is behind us. All of us look in disgust, yet once told why the child is down there, most seem all right with it. Not me though, I just stand there, like a deer in front of a car light. I don’t move for hours, until I am just walking, walking into the mountains. I don’t know why I start walking, but I do. I don’t say anything I just leave. I hike for hours until I feel tired. Even then I cannot stop. I walk through the cold, dark night, yet I don’t stop. It takes me hours to realize that I’ve been walking for an entire day and need to rest.
I try to sleep; yet that child stays in my mind, crying and looking at me with an invitation of death. I wake up from the sound of fireworks from Omelas. Even with them knowing the child is suffering, they enjoy fireworks so big, I can hear them from here. It was that moment that I realized that I couldn’t go back to a place of happiness that is formed on that one boy. So I continue walking towards the top of the mountains. I strive to find a place that has real happiness where all is fair. Though when I slowly start getting higher, I see fragments of bones. I figure that it is from the dead that saw what I saw. That made the noble choice to walk away. This doesn’t discourage me though. As I walk higher and higher I slowly start to see fresher bodies, still with rotting flesh on their bodies. With all this death around me I fail to see my feet are bleeding from all the walking. I look at bodies that have barely been eaten by wild animals. Their shoes look new with fine leather, so I put them on. They are comfortable and just my size.
I continue to walk after tying my new shoes. Yet that helps me little because a blizzard out of nowhere starts up with the power of god behind it. I can’t see two feet in front of me, which doesn’t matter because it is so cold I see my clothes start to freeze. So I get behind a rock and huddle up. I know I stand no chance against this weather. So I say my goodbyes in my head and my body, like many others, shows that we made the choice to not be a part of something like Omelas. Right after fading into darkness, I open my eyes. I have no clothes on and am in a full white room. I get up and walk around when all of the sudden I see a man in the corner of the room. I jump ten feet into the air and get to the opposite side. He says, “Don’t worry, don’t worry, you are in no harm.” I ask, “Where am I, what is this, why am I naked?” The man says, “You are in purgatory, you have passed the test of life, instead of living with the knowledge of an innocent child suffering, you would rather try to find something better and die. For this you are rewarded to a place beyond your dreams.” He opens up a white door and a bright light shines. After my eyes adjust I see it, and all I can describe of this place is pure happiness.
Does our culture have its own small child in a broom closet? To me, yes, our culture has other people suffering in order for others to be happy; though our culture needs more people suffering in order for us to be happy. An example of this goes back to my theory in seminar that people need to be a lower class in order for others to strive. You think people want to work at Walmart and sell us our crap, or do you think people’s dream is to stock a shelf at Office depot with our pens? No, but people in the 3 higher classes need them to so they can enjoy their lives. Even though this article uses a different concept, the author says in the story, “They all understand that their happiness, the beauty of their city, the tenderness of their friendships, the health of their children, the wisdom of their scholars, the skill of their makers, even the abundance of their harvest and the kindly weathers of their skies, depend wholly on this child's abominable misery.” And even though our worlds think differently it is the same concept where happiness comes from someone else’s misery, with or without knowing it.