"The Cardinal Sin, 'Pride'” by Jon Christopher B

 

       “There is one vice of which no man in the world is free; which every one in the world loathes when he sees it in someone else; and of which hardly any people, except Christians, ever imagine that they are guilty themselves. […] There is no fault which makes a man more unpopular, and no fault which we are more unconscious of in ourselves. […] The vice I am talking of is Pride or Self-Conceit: and the virtue opposite to it, in Christian morals, is called Humility.”

― C.S. Lewis, Mere Christianity

 

        Pride, one of the seven cardinal sins depicted by the Roman Catholic Church, is known as one of the most, if not the most, deadliest sin out of all of the deadly sins. The sin of pride is very dangerous, as it is known to lead many astray and down towards the path of self-destruction. It is believed by many to be the root cause of all evil in the world. But why exactly is it deadly enough to become the worst of the seven cardinal sins? How exactly does pride lead mortal beings to their very destruction? How is it the root cause of all evil?

        Before these questions can be answered however, the true meaning of pride must be understood first. What is pride? According to the Oxford English Dictionary, pride means “A high, esp. an excessively high, opinion of one’s own worth or importance which gives rise to a feeling or attitude of superiority over others; inordinate self-esteem.” As seen from the definition, having pride, especially excessive amounts of pride, could elevate a feeling of superiority over others. This feeling of superiority towards others is already detrimental to the development of one’s own life. This feeling could lead to a multitude of things, such as  self-isolation, lack of communication, and poor synergy among peers. Having the sin of pride already destroys the image of oneself towards others. If having pride already ruins the reputation one has, what else can having pride do?

        One can argue that having pride is a good trait to have and that it raises the self confidence of a person, but is that truly the case? Sure, there could be many things that someone should not be ashamed of doing and should be proud of doing instead, but should they really be prideful? Many would ask,  “What is the difference between being proud and being prideful?” Well, the difference between the two is very simple. Being proud of oneself means that they are able to be satisfied with their accomplishments and can share these qualities with others. On the other hand, being prideful turns that feeling of satisfaction into arrogance, taking these accomplishments from others and ruining their own feelings of satisfaction. Being proud raises self-love and brings up self-esteem, while being prideful raises self-hate and lowers self-esteem. This is why pride is a very deadly sin, as it can also ruin others that are not directly involved with this sin.

         Now that we know what the cardinal sin, pride, does to a mortal soul, instead of obtaining the sin known as pride, we should humble ourselves and try to understand each other at the same level. Instead of competing with each other to become the superior being, we should try to lower our pride and become admirable beings, helping anyone that falls. We should use the heavenly gift of humility, instead of abusing the hellish sin of pride. While it is good to be proud of ourselves, we should remember that it is sometimes better to show humility rather than arrogance, as we may never know when our excessive pride will lead to our eventual downfall.

 

 

  

 

Works Cited

“pride, n.¹”. Oxford English Dictionary, Oxford University Press, September 2023, <https://doi.org/10.1093/OED/7380022113>

 

Lewis, C.S. (1952) Mere Christianity ‎Harper San Francisco; Revised & Enlarged edition (February 6, 200

"Where is Happiness?" by Christian T

            Where does happiness come from? Do we get a dopamine rush? Or do we just have a “feel good” experience? What explains happiness? Does it always come from positive experiences or can happiness come from depression and negativity? Happiness can not be derived in a certain way. Not everybody can experience happiness the same. Some people take the bad and make the most of it while others soak and moan about negativity. But what really fuels happiness? From an article by Gregg Vanourek, What Leads to Happiness, “having acts of kindness, purpose, and meaning to life, and a strong social life are the leading causes of happiness.” But are these the only causes of happiness? Happiness is more than what has been stated. It comes from the inside and your mental intuitions. Just because someone has more money, more popularity, or more girlfriends than you does not mean he is happier than you can be. Happiness comes from inside and being at peace with yourself and the situations you are in. If you always chase a high you will never experience true happiness. You must enjoy what you have, enjoy your route, and enjoy your pace of life because nobody experiences life the same. And you can not have outside influences affect your view of happiness. Such as social media and popular icons. People strive to have what they want and do what they do. But are they truly happy? You must find happiness through experiences and living life to the fullest. Find something that makes you feel good. This is true happiness. Not material goods and popularity, but finding deep inside you what makes you “you.”

            Why does happiness never have a concrete answer? Nobody can explain your own personal feeling of happiness. Nobody can ever influence your ideas and change your thoughts because those are self-liberties that we are all born with. Having outside impacts change your perspective on life can either bring you down or get you up. In Lisa Firestone's blog about 5 Reasons We Don’t Let Ourselves Be Happy, she states, “If we fall in love, we start making excuses to pull away. And if we succeed in one area, we find ourselves sabotaging ourselves in another. When these instances occur, we often tend to blame circumstances or sheer bad luck. In reality, we are all—to varying degrees—intolerant of our own happiness.” Why is it that when we finally find happiness we let go of another part of ourselves? We lose an old piece of our puzzle that we wish to have back. Maybe that is the reason for happiness. We as humans will always chase new forms of happiness after completing milestones. This chase is what makes us have a reason to live. Imagine a life where you are perfectly happy. What happens after? We will sooner or later be bored of the happiness we possess. We will aim for new goals to reach new happiness. Happiness is sort of a dopamine response in your brain. We chase it like a drug. So, we must find happiness not just in good scenarios, but we must understand that every moment we live no matter how good or bad it is will never be lived through again. Happiness is found within.

 

https://www.psychologytoday.com/gb/blog/compassion-matters/201507/5-reasons-we-dont-let-ourselves-be-happy

 

https://greggvanourek.com/what-leads-to-happiness/#:~:text=Acts%20of%20kindness%2C%20caring%2C%20service,problems%20or%20despair%20of%20others.

 

 

           

 

"Earrings" by Jalanie M

 

Growing up, I was always told to wear earrings before going anywhere. Usually, this was a minor issue because I would take them off right after leaving the house and put them back on right before returning home.

All in all, it was fine. Except for the few times I had no choice but to suck it up and wear them whenever I went to church.

When I was younger, I always saw the church as a place my family and I went to make my great-grandmother happy. So, every few months, I, along with my brother, my sister, and my parents, would drive an hour to sit in what I perceived to be a two-hour waste of time that I could instead spend watching Nickelodeon. Unfortunately, I could not absorb most of the lessons in the pastor's sermon as I was too preoccupied with the immense weight pulling at my ears.

However, the struggle was not limited to earrings. I was consistently reminded to sit with my legs close together or to "act like a girl." These instructions felt like an attempt to confine me to a mold that did not quite fit. The discomfort of conforming to societal expectations regarding appearance and behavior began to weigh heavily on me.

As I grew older, the conflict between societal expectations and my true self intensified. I started questioning why I needed to conform to these gender norms and expectations. Was there indeed a right way to be a girl? Did earrings and the way I sat define my femininity?

As time passed, I realized it was not merely about the earrings or the way I sat. It was about the limitations imposed on me because of my gender. I continued to feel confined by the stereotypes and expectations.

Although my beliefs have changed significantly since then, it has become increasingly difficult to accept myself and my family. Although I was at one point extremely resentful towards my parents in particular, I have begun to learn how to accept them for who they are. Their beliefs are shaped by the environment in which they grew up. Changing their minds may become futile in the long run if I try to change their mind. Moreover, the fear of persecution and rejection by the people around me made me feel disconnected from my personhood. I eventually concluded that their beliefs were just as significant as my own. Acknowledging this allowed me again to be more sympathetic to them and anyone else I disagree with.

Reflecting, I recognize those moments as stepping stones towards self-acceptance and liberation. By challenging the gendered implications of earrings and embracing a more authentic expression of identity, we pave the way for a more inclusive and accepting society. In breaking the mold imposed by earrings, we find personal liberation and an invitation for society to redefine its expectations and celebrate the richness of individual expression.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"How Kicking a Ball Changed My Life" by Madeline M

 

Everyone's life is full of trials and tribulations that help carve out the person they become over the years. With high school coming to an end, that also means my soccer career is only a few games from being nothing but a memory. So I’d like to reflect on the past 10 years that have cost my family so much money, time and effort. Which has also cost me so many tears, so much sweat and blood.

            Soccer has been a major influence in my life since I was born due to the fact my sister, who’s 10 years older than me, played and has always done very well on the field. When I was young, I hated going to my sister’s games but once I reached around the age of 8, my sister had graduated and I had started playing. I enjoyed the game at first when it was all just childish fun that had been inspired by my sister and dad. My dad always pushed my sister and I to play and try our hardest when on that field. My first few seasons were played at AYSO and I had started improving to where it led to my first real experience that had inspired something in me.

            When I was in 6th grade I was selected to play on Flames which is the first competitive team I had ever played for. This season had left me to grow as a player and form many friendships that I still have till this day. Though, by entering the world of competitive soccer, many obstacles have shown me many things. Soccer has created family issues, self confidence problems, and physical challenges that have caused me so much pain over the years. Everything started when my sister had quit college soccer her sophomore year and that led to my dad trying to kick her out and so many nights of fighting. That time in my life had lit a fire in me to push myself to never disappoint my dad.

            My following season was full of training and moving to the next level. This next level is what my time on Flames had prepared me for. I had learned basic leadership skills and what it truly meant to have teammates by your side. Starting  club soccer has shown me discipline and determination. Playing at a competitive level where I had to devote myself had started experiencing some real issues that still linger till this day. I have grown a sense of passion and a connection to the sport, but I don’t think I’ll ever have it in me to say I love it. Writing this right now, during my senior year, I don’t think I ever truly fell in love with soccer the way I wish I did.

            My first club season was a walk in the park because of how low level the club was, but my second season where I had moved to a higher tier because I was convincing myself I wanted to just so that I could make my dad proud had introduced me to the harshness of coaches. I was tired of running laps constantly and doing sit ups and push ups every time I wanted water. I was tired of my coach always yelling at me and all my teammates who I had grown to love so much. I was tired of being only told the negative in everything I did on that field because I had started to only see the negative in myself and everything I did off the field too.

            Trying to quit when I was 13 was a decision that had caused some tension with my dad, by that I mean he didn’t look at me for 3 days and ignored my existence. But that had gone against my biggest goal in life, not disappointing him. So I had started training myself to prove to him I wanted this, when in reality this was the beginning of a descent into depression that I had barely been able to claw myself out of by my junior year. My relationship with soccer was built on a shaky foundation of fear instead of a sturdy one of passion like most players. But I will say there has always been a form of passion for the sport buried inside me, I will always have some form of love for the sport, even though it has been the stem of so many negatives in my life.

 My injuries to my knee have taught me what it means to be committed and how to push through the tough times. I had partially dislocated my knee cap and strained my ACL in November of my 8th grade year, this had me out for roughly 6-7 months. I had worked and rehabbed and got back out there, I moved to the club my sister had played for because she was always my inspiration in so much I did. There I met amazing coaches and made some amazing friends. I had bounced around and played games with many different teams within that club. I am currently still playing with this club, which is called Legends FC in case anyone has heard of it.  I have received so much love and support from people within this Legends family that I had thought I started really loving the sport because for once I was truly performing and  had a newly lit fire under me to drive harder.

But, all good things came to an end when my second knee injury happened. Right before my sophomore year, a full knee cap dislocation that had torn my soft tissue and cartilage in my knee. This one was much more painful and very rough on me both mentally and physically. Yet, once again I worked and I came back after months of rehab and MRI scans. Though this injury did really screw me over for my high school season, it landed me another year on JV, which I had hated because I felt so worthless seeing everyone else make Varsity. I felt as if I could do nothing right and that I was simply a waste of space, time, and money.

Over the course of high school I had plenty of ups and downs socially, mentally and physically, but I always did have soccer and I am eternally grateful to the sport for showing me how to push through the hard things and teaching me so many lessons along the way. As I write this, my leg is propped up and being iced because I have dislocated my kneecap once again, November 16th, 2023, marking the possible date of the official end of my career. I currently have no idea if I will be able to play my senior season at Etiwanda and I am unsure if my Legends team is playing after the high school season. So for this last little section I just want to say, thank you to soccer and thank you to whoever has read this entire piece. I wish I could’ve found it in myself to truly fall in love with soccer and continue my journey into college with it as my form of stabilization. But there is nothing I can do now, I will be hanging up my cleats very soon and will always thank this sport for being a very prominent influence in creating who I am. Thank you for the last 10 years, I’ll miss you sometimes and other times I’ll be overjoyed that you’re no longer in my life. Now my career is nothing but a memory.   

 

"Analysis Paralysis" by Amare C

 

 

Overthinking is a relentless foe that lurks in the shadows of our minds and preys on our lingering thoughts. It is a complex of endless contemplation mixed in with constant second-guessing and doubt that stabs at your mental health. Overthinking is like a stormy cloud that just ruins your clarity and makes you question even the most obvious answers to things. As a high school student and athlete, I struggle a lot with this phenomenon and it has affected my mental health along the road as well. Being an athlete, while also dealing with overthinking, has caused significant declines in my performance on the court in the past and I have noticed that my well-being is affected by this. When I overthink, I find myself constantly dwelling on the mistakes that I made in the past and that makes me worry about the potential outcomes in the future, which ultimately leads to worse outcomes in the end. As a basketball player, I must be able to make quick decisions within a split second. Still, when overthinking comes into action, I become so consumed in my thoughts that I struggle to make those decisions, and that leads to disastrous consequences because I now have turned the ball over. My confidence is immediately stripped from me and I begin to doubt the great abilities that I know I am capable of. Aside from the athlete side of overthinking, regular high school students are affected by this as well. Overthinking leads to increased stress and anxiety as students have to deal with this, while also having to deal with the heavy workload that they get from each of their classes. High school students may also be faced with many academic pressures which also leads to overthinking as they are constantly worrying about their future and what uncertainties it holds if they were to potentially fail just one test. This rumination can lead to decreased performance in the class room and affect one’s mental health overall. It is said that 45% of all high school students admit to being stressed almost every day as a result of constant overthinking. This is not a good sign as overthinking can have a huge strain on your mental well-being which can lead to severe depression unfortunately. I want to say that while overthinking is often viewed as a negative thing, I believe that some positive aspects come out of this too. I realized that the whole reason why I and other people overthink is that we truly care and value something and want to make the best decision that there can possibly be. This can lead to even more careful consideration, which helps avoid reckless actions that one may make because of the negative emotions one feels. It is always a helpful tool to find balance between overthinking and just going with your instincts. Overthinking can be a very challenging obstacle to overcome, but there are many strategies that have helped me and can help other individuals who struggle with this rumination. One strategy that has helped me deal with this is to set a time limit for how long I think about something. By designating specific times, I have been able to avoid getting stuck in a seemingly endless cycle of overthinking. The engagement of extracurricular activities have aslo been a big help, for you are able to distract your mind of the lingering thoughts that may be affecting you and your mental health. Practicing mindfulness and engaging in activies that take your mind of things can be an affective way to relieve stress, anxiety, and most of all overthinking, in which you will find more peace and happiness with yourself.

“Whale Song” by Kamryn R

            The ocean was crystal clear as a cleanly cut sapphire. The morning rays of dawn beamed through the undulating waters, cutting through the waves. A pod of humpback whales was swimming gracefully below the surface. There were three whales in all; a mother, an escort, and a calf. The calf had a playful nature- she was spinning and twirling through the water, whistling happily. The mother watched her affectionately, occasionally calling out here and there to make sure her daughter was alright. The escort merely rolled his eyes at the childish antics of the calf. The three have been searching for swarms of krill to feed on, however they hadn’t had any luck thus far. The mother was worried- her calf needed to be fed, yet she didn’t have the means to feed her. She noticed that her calf had gotten far ahead of her. She let out a warning whistle.

“Slow down, my dear.”

The little calf opened her mouth to respond, but she was interrupted by an enormous roar that struck raw fear into the mother whale’s heart.

The Beast.

The Beast is here.

The Beast was the scourge of the ocean, more fearsome and deadly than the biggest shark. It had smooth, impenetrable skin and one large fin in the back, which only moved when it wished to change directions. The Beast was propelled forward by an invisible force that left a powerful jet of froth in its wake. It cut through the water in the most unnatural way, and its pointed head was dreadful to behold. Yet the most feared and terrifying part of the Beast was its large, gaping maw. It was like a large spider web, almost invisible and tightly woven, perfect for feasting on all sorts of prey. The Beast’s maw was able to ensnare and crush all that crossed its path, and it devoured anything that was unlucky enough to get stuck in its great mouth. The mother’s heart was pounding, and sheer terror filled her senses as the Beast reared its curved head. Her calf was the closest to it, far away from her mother and the escort. She was frozen in the water, staring up at the stark white belly of the Beast as it approached. The mother whale called anxiously to her daughter, whistling and clicking with desperate urgency.

“Swim, my daughter! Swim!”

The calf finally snapped out of her paralyzed state and burst forward towards her mother. The Beast was still coming, its jaws open wide, hungry for a kill. The calf swam as fast as she could, but she was exhausted from her earlier play and the Beast was picking up speed. The mother called out again, anxiously encouraging her daughter to move faster.

“Quickly! Quickly, my darling! You’re so close-”

The Beast unleashed another booming roar, drowning out the panicked words of the mother whale. The calf let out a high pitched whistle of pure terror as the Beast’s jaws closed in around her. She thrashed, trying to escape, but it only entangled her more. The webbing kept her ensnared, and it cut into her flesh as she helplessly flailed. The calf wailed once more as the maw began to lift, slowly scooping her out of the water like a giant curved tongue. The mother whale could only watch as the Beast consumed her precious daughter, lifting her to the surface where the rest of the Beast awaited. The calf, still whistling shrilly, disappeared into the unknown above. The Beast roared one last time, before falling silent, unmoving. The mother waited underneath, hoping, praying that the Beast would feel a shred of mercy and return her daughter. Moments passed, but the Beast didn’t relinquish the calf. Eventually, the Beast growled and seemed to reawaken from its previous stupor. The Beast began to move, and the two whales stared hopelessly as it slowly turned away and swam off, taking the poor calf with it.

 

________________________________________________________________________

 

Overwhelming grief plagued the mother without ceasing. The escort tried to comfort her, softly whistling kind things into her ear, but it was no use, for her heart and will were broken beyond repair. She never spoke, though she occasionally let out a heart-wrenching, mournful wail of despair that seemed to echo across the sea. The two swam silently together, side by side, as the sun sank beneath the waves and sky began to darken.

The pair approached a clearing, silent and devoid of any fish or cetacean. A pile of pebbles sat on the sandy floor. The pile was huge, consisting of thousands and thousands of smooth stones. The stones were completely untouched, having not a single barnacle, starfish, or urchin. Even the seaweed grew far away from the mound, like somehow it sensed its sacred aura.

The mother whale gently used her fin to scoop up a little pebble from the nearby sand. Somberly, she placed the small stone onto the pile with a certain quiet reverence. Her eyes rested on the pebble, glistening with a deep sadness. She began to sing. At first, it was quiet, but then her voice grew louder and louder as she poured all her sorrow and misery into the hauntingly beautiful notes of her whale song. Her escort joined in, his low, rich tones harmonizing with hers. 

Suddenly, the pure voices of unseen whales rang out from the blue, melancholy and powerful. Soon the entire ocean was filled with the bittersweet symphony of the whales, mourning yet another loss. The mother whale felt her heart strengthened by the melodies of her fellow whales, her grief softened with newfound peace. As the song began to fade, she tilted her head up at the night sky, letting it bathe in the soft glow of the moon. Millions of diamond-bright stars were scattered across inky darkness above, glittering in a way similar to how the eye glitters with tears. The mother whale gazed up at them as she whispered her last goodbye.

 

I’ll never forget you, my sweet daughter. 

"From the Eyes of a Man" - Krish K

 

The moon shined brighter when she was here. The grass was so much greener, the rain felt so soft. I’d sing a melody and her harmony responded instantly. I made no note of it. I had grown used to her. I must have gotten too comfortable, or something. But, I had loved her, and she loved me back, so it was fine. The wind howls without her, searching for her touch. I remember the way she looked out the window, with her hand floating through the air. I remember the way she smelled, I remember her eyes, the braid in her hair fell perfectly over her shoulder. She turned to me – I think – but my eyes were on the road. She had said something, and God I wish I had heard. Or I did hear, but – the music was too loud. We were listening to a song she chose, I don’t remember what, that’s not important.

Her name was April. She had brought a glory to my life that made her namesake justified. A man could go his whole life in Winter. Only knowing the gray mist that filled the air, never feeling the heat against his skin. Every moment, even those that may have been mistakenly illuminated by a beam of light through the overcast, was overshadowed by the idea of the Spring to come. And then It came. It took me by such surprise, she was unlike any other. She radiated such an innocence that had she been placed in Eden, our immortality would’ve been ensured. When she spoke, a choir filled my ears. It didn’t matter what words were being spoken, I’d give up a thousand conversations for one more song. She filled me with warmth. She sparked a flame in me that would burn the shores of the Dead Sea.

Suddenly the world was grand. I had never noticed the beauty of the trees in my own yard, not until she admired them. And so a forest grew around me. She had dreams. Aspirations, she called them. She was so funny, she made me laugh without even joking. She wished for a garden, outside of our home. Cooking was her “passion,”  how convenient would it be to have our groceries right there! She begged. And so we were married in the Garden of Versailles. It was a beautiful day, we had exchanged our vows. I had promised to give her the world, for she was my own. She was my light, my only reason. She was my everything, the air I breathed, the food I ate, the home I slept in. She was my everything. She spoke her vows. She spoke with such grace – I remember that. She spoke for a long time. Far too long, but it was okay, she looked so cute when she was passionate. I can't recall what was said, it did not matter. It was a glorious ceremony. She wanted something small, but she deserved so much more. She deserved it all.

The Earth around me mourns the loss of her foot. The barley that flooded this valley once so golden had shifted to such an unappealing brown. The birds’ hum once so harmonious now linger in dissonance. I loved her so greatly. Could she not see that? Mountains of gifts I brought to her. Anything she asked for. Her children had slept on my chest. We were perfect for eachother. She was so lovely, and so I loved her. Was that not enough? She had asked me for one last drive. She wanted to enjoy my company once more, she said. I had so many questions, her answers just made no sense! She wouldn’t even listen to me! “Why?”, I asked. She claimed I didn’t care about her? I Didn’t Listen?! I loved her unconditionally! Never would I take away what she was taking from me. How can one be expected to return to the ground after bathing in the stars? You would not grace a sinner with the presence of Heaven only to send him back to Hell… That’s cruel! But that she did.

The moon had shone so bright. The crickets that once served as the metronome to our tune pierce through the silence like a knife on my skin. For 3 months she showed me a world of growth. For another, we prospered. It was going so well! Now the sun feels so dim. It was going so well. The lush green that hung over my head has crippled to the floor. It was going so well. The soundtrack that flew above us is nowhere to be found, the pond we bathed in frozen over. I was nothing without her, and nothing I shall be. She was my everything, she was everything. Now what is left of me?

 

 

"abstract idea" by Natalie H

 

Describe yourself in one word. Think about it deeply. Is it even possible? At first glance, the task seems deceptively simple- a single word to define the entirety of a person. Defining oneself in a single word might not seem difficult. But, attempting to encapsulate a lifetime of experiences and complexities is much more challenging than you might believe. It happens to be not an existing description that belongs to yourself with the exception of rather an existing pathway to deeper personal understanding.

 

I grew up mainly by myself. I have no special talent, no hobbies, no close family. I wasn't a prodigy at birth, no special attributes, and I live life purposelessly. I am confident, however, in excelling in whatever I put my attention to. I would say I am pretty universal. But does that mean I'm worth anything? What can I provide but my time and youth? What about someone that is medically diagnosed as brain dead or someone in a coma? How is worth even determined?

 

Merriam Webster Dictionary defines self worth as “a sense of one's own value as a human being.” I can't say I value myself but does that make me worthless? I believe your worth is determined by your dedication to your everyday life. From waking up in the morning and getting out of bed to attending class and interacting with others. I don't think worth lies in grades or materialistic things. Defining your worth based on the criticisms of others is pointless. Everybody that tries is deserving of worth.

 

My previous caretakers believed that worth equals value. “What can you put on the table?”, kind of ideology. This kind of belief is more common than you might think. Each and every living breathing individual has worth. Some are less deserving than others but all equally inclined to live on this planet.

 

My definition of self worth changes every day. Worth itself is a fluid concept. A loose grip on one's worth does not render one inherently worthless. However it does show the human capacity for self growth. If you were able to answer my initial question then you're already halfway there.

 

"Stringed Soul" By Aiden R

 

In a stille town forgotten by time, there lived once a young child "Dante," born of meager kin. The family did dwell in a cottage that was reckoned out of kilter, with every step causing a creak and the wind's soft sway fashioning a melody as it crept into their dwelling. This melodic voice, heard constantly by Dante, drew his attention more unto music, specifically the harp. Though Dante was a-knowing of his family's dire financial state, he did beg and plead with his father who was a local farmer in vegetables and rye. His father, of course said "No, why squander precious time on such a trifle.” Dante, upon hearing this, had wept his way to the local trees known as “wailing woods.” As he shed off his tears he looked only to realize that he was lost and clearly far from home. With the wind playing its now dreadful tune among the trees, Dante became as nervous as a cat surrounded by barking hounds, for everywhere he turned, an eerie unease whispered through each leaves. This became too much to bear as Dante had swooned from the overwhelming weight of his troubles. Only when Dante had awoken, there he saw a man, his face weathered by age and eyes that spoke no sorrow. Clad in tattered garments that mirrored the twisted trees-a man no doubt, yet more than a man, as his presence only made Dante at unease. The man with a grin asked Dante "What is it thou seek, child?" Only for a fleeting moment was there silence, but the hush was shattered by an unwary Dante. "I seek to play the harp and replicate the sound that was bestowed upon me." The man, whose grin had vanished, accepted to give the harp to Dante but spoke, "On one condition, young seeker. This harp carries melodies woven from the very fabric of souls. Take heed, for every note thou playest shall echo not only in the woods but also within thine own soul. The condition is this: with every string plucked, thou shalt offer a piece of thy soul, a coin in the currency of the unseen, in exchange for the ethereal symphony thou wishes to create." Dante, ignorantly accepting, found himself alone as the man vanished. The promised harp not within his grasp, yet a path, sinister and bathed in an otherworldly glow, revealed itself – a trail known only to those who struck bargains with the man. Dante strolled his way through the malevolent path, unwittingly guided by the devil's influence, his soul weighed with the ominous cost of melodies yet to be played. He soon had reached the end of the trees and beheld home at last. His parents, fraught with worry, began to bombard Dante with questions, the foremost being, "Where have thou been?" Dante, weary from his travels, made no reply and simply returned to his room. In the comfort of his room, he reclined upon his bed, pondering in silence, "Was the man from the trees ever real?" And, "I must've been seeing things. Did he truly vanish with no trace left behind?" Only then did Dante hear a familiar voice, the melodic tones that once played throughout his house. Dante spoke, "Why must I endure this again with no chance of replication?" As he turned around, there it was — the promised harp.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"What is an aesthetic? " by Rebecca O.

 

 

One of the most famous ideas of aesthetics goes all the way back to 375 BCE when Plato published his book Republic. In his book, Plato introduced the theory of mimetics; which introduced the idea that art is mimetic by nature and art is an imitation of life itself. This is not the earliest form of the idea of aesthetics, but it is brought up time and time again. The general definition of aesthetics is the principle of concern with the nature and appreciation of beauty, mostly in art. The definition generally only focuses on art, but today when you search for the word aesthetic you get color schemes, books, flowers, skies, etc.. If you go on apps like Pinterest or Instagram, you can search for any idea and there is an aesthetic for it. There have been many debates about where the idea of aesthetics came from and where it originated. Many ideas and theories come from ancient Greek philosophers and even some ideas from Germany. The idea of an aesthetic has been used as a way to show off a person's lifestyle or wealth in the form of a simple photo. An example we can all relate to are influencers who show their preppy life with a green smoothie at 5am with aesthetically pleasing clothing or an aesthetically pleasing house. This example right here is only the beginning; I am not including other aesthetics which influence people to restrict their diets, and buy things they can’t afford. We can also think of an aesthetic as a trend for many different products and lifestyles that pass every couple of months. We can even consider these trends and aesthetics to be microtrends due to how fast people participate in them.

            In the age of phones and social media, aesthetics is a way of living. Many examples include skincare, books, food, diets, exercise, school, countries, clothes, hobbies, and animated characters. For many today, they see aesthetics as a way of living or a way to live the way that others live. There are positives to this new definition of modern day aesthetics, but the negatives overshadow the positives. There are many people who use social media and feel some sort of pressure to match the aesthetics of their favorite influencer or the girl on Pinterest who has books which make her look smart. The whole idea of aesthetics is to show off your wealth or even your intelligence to the rest of social media. Aesthetic lives like “that girl” show a life of a woman in a positive view, but show expectations that many young girls today cannot follow for a variety of reasons.

            The main idea of aesthetics came from the 375 BCE and even before the age of Plato and Aristotle. The arts and literature were the main points of aesthetics to idealize the beauty of the two. As the centuries went by, the definition of aesthetics changed to the lifestyle and idealization of the world around us. Not just art and literature, but life and how we live today.

October Writers Are Here!

 All Students:  Be sure to read the entries for this group --October writers).  Everyone is required to comment on at least THREE different pieces of writing.  You must submit comments on Canvas (for each one, include the name of the author and the title of their piece, and then your positive, specific comment ) by Monday, November 13 on Canvas.

Remember, comments must be positive, supportive, constructive, and SPECIFIC.  No "Good Job!" comments, unless you follow that with specific things you thought were done well in the piece.  Show them you actually took the time to read and enjoy their work!

"Sleep" by Ethan T

 

“Today’s a bad day,” you text your friend shortly after returning from school.  You're swamped with homework, and frankly, today wasn’t the day for that.  The struggles of your day simply won’t allow you to focus on your homework like you should.  You procrastinate from 6 o’clock to 7.  7 turns to 8, and not before long it’s 11 o’clock, and your homework hasn’t been done.  You’re mindlessly scrolling Instagram, it’s the only thing keeping you sane.  A friend texts you they’re bored and you tell them the absolutely horrible day you’ve had.  The only thing is, this “bad day” happens more often than not, but your friend doesn’t know that.  They confidently respond, “Go to sleep.”  A statement you’ve heard too much but the only thing you needed to hear.  You close your eyes and slowly drift out of consciousness, homework untouched, yet your day is over. This sentiment is a common trend that I’ve noticed somewhat recently.  To sleep the moment the sun sets, at the end of a bad day.  Of course, no one literally means that, because both me and everyone else have far more homework than what should be allowed, but I digress.  Why is it that sleeping is what we should do to wash away our problems?  An even better question, why does it feel that it works?  Here, I don’t hope to answer the question but provide a definition that I’ve developed through a culmination of my experiences.

 

Defining something nebulous as sleep is pretty difficult because I believe it’s more than the definition on Merriam Webster.  “A condition of body and mind that typically recurs for several hours every night, in which the eyes are closed, the postural muscles relaxed, the activity of the brain altered, and consciousness of the surroundings practically suspended.”  While yes it literally is what the definition defines, connotatively sleep extends far beyond that definition.  Granted, there is an important phrase in the definition I’d like to focus on temporarily, that being, “the activity of the brain altered”.  This alteration of brain activity may be the reason why sleep seems to refresh you.  However, as previously mentioned in my anecdote, sleeping feels as if it cleanses me of my problems, and that cleansing is so important that it draws me away from my work, sometimes, but very rarely because I’m a very good student.  Regardless, the irresistible allure of sleep tempts me nightly, despite the fact that if I sleep my immediate exhaustion will be cured, but my ever-increasing load of homework will only pile up more.  Yet, it’s encouraged at the end of a “bad day”, and that’s what’s so interesting to me about the idea of sleep.  It feels as though it only purges my immediate problems, and quietly allows my other ones to pile up.  No matter what negative emotion overpowers my mind, the moment I lay on my pillow and my eyes close, the sun is up, its beams beating into my body.  And I couldn’t be happier.  I feel cleansed until I open up my eyes and see clothes on the floor, my phone’s at 2%, and I remember I haven’t done any homework.  Then I’m instantly thrust back into the mindset I was in about 9 hours ago, but at least I’m not exhausted.

 

I spoke to a friend about what I should write relating to sleep because I had a decent framework for what I wanted to write but was feeling a bit lost.  She suggested I could write about how it feels unattainable due to our phones which made me think back to my original anecdote.  “You’re mindlessly scrolling through Instagram”, almost parallels, “consciousness of the surroundings practically suspended.” Coincidence?  I think not!  Maybe a bit of a stretch, but my phone puts me in a similar comatose state as falling asleep does, without the aforementioned short-term cleansing.  This led me to the logical conclusion that I should procrastinate doing my homework in a different way that doesn’t further my sluggishness.  Jokes aside, it’s genuinely unnerving how eerily similar scrolling through social media and sleeping is, and I know it’s a bit of a tangent, but I had to share my hypothesis with the world.  So, in conclusion, I believe that sleep is a period of time when you lose consciousness and it cleanses your temporary emotions but tragically leaves all of your tangible baggage.  This may of course be a problem exclusive to me, or even just a heavily romanticized reality of many of my peers, yet it’s one that I repeatedly deal with, so I wanted to write about it. Also, I didn’t take psych so I could just be completely wrong, but I had fun!

 

Bibliography

 

 

“Sleep.” Merriam Webster Dictionary 30 Oct. 2023, Merriam Webster. https://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/sleep

 

 

 

"My Hero" by Richard B

 

     Marissa was never expecting to be in the house of a boy that she liked, but here she was sitting at a table with his mother and father. The boy wrote notes to her for months and eventually was invited to meet his parents at a dinner. All during the meal she felt her head ache a bit but she shrugged it off ‘I just need some water’ she thought to herself. The house the boy lived in was very nice and large, pictures of old family relatives with fun names lined the walls all around, one had particularly caught her eye. When she read it she could feel chills run down her spine for some reason: ‘Hiram Marwood’ the label at the bottom of the portrait read. All throughout dinner she stared at the portrait and it got to the point where she began feeling sick and asked to go to the bathroom. As she walked out the bathroom she heard a voice call her name, “Marisssaaaaa….” she looked around in confusion, “Hello?”  she couldn’t tell if she was hearing her name being called from down the hall or in her own head, “You have to save me Marissa” the voice called. She felt her head turn towards a door a little further down the hall, “Save me Marissa” the voice begged. She began to walk towards the door and she stopped for a second, ‘Should I really be snooping around this house?’ she thought, “Help me Marissa ''. Without a second to spare she opened the door and looked down at the staircase, ‘The basement’. Marissa looked back to see if anyone was around and made her descent, she found a flashlight lying on the floor and shined it around the dark basement, nothing about it was particularly eye catching. There were boxes strewn around it but the basement was large, as she continued searching she eventually found several boxes stacked in a clump. “I’m here Marissa” she moved the boxes and behind it was an old stone door, several odd symbols lined it and she could feel that something was behind it. “They’ve trapped me in here Marissa” the voice echoed from behind the door, as she put her hand to the door her mind was filled with millions of memories. An exploding star, a comet that hurled through the cosmos and landed on a planet, ancient earth, she could feel the being’s awe and wonder of the world around it. As it walked the ancient worlds animals stayed away from it in fear Marissa could only make out its form through the shadows in the memories. As the being grew over time it had amassed a power but before it could use it a man stabbed through its heart, a glowering light emerged from the being and as it fell to the ground it looked up at its attacker, it was Hiram Marwood. Marissa took her hand off the door and held it up to her pounding head, “Marissa” the being called, “They took everything from me, each full moon they weaken me.” Images of the beast being stabbed as a full moon glowered from a ceiling window filled Marissa’s mind. It happened every full moon, different attackers in robes, and as the most recent memory flashed through her mind the robed attacker removed their hood. The Boy.“He didn’t like hurting me, I could feel his guilt, so I made him a deal. He’d never release me, he’s too scared, someone like you Marissa? You love helping those in need, I’ve seen you through his eyes”. Marissa was shivering, “You can release me I know it”. She wanted to say no, but she wondered if she really had a choice, she had helped so many others and who was she to deny the being. “What do I do”.

“In their library there’s an orrery, you must bring it down here and I'll tell you the rest”. Marissa began to walk to the stairs determined, she felt a doubting voice in the back of her head but she brushed it off. ‘I can talk to you in here’ she heard the being echoing through her mind ‘what if i’m caught?’ ‘You won’t be, I have numbed their thoughts, I have never been this close to freedom’. She opened the library doors, as she walked around a bit she saw it, the orrery glimmered gold. The solar system it replicated looked like the natural one but a little older, some planets hadn’t formed yet. ‘I found it’ Marissa called, ‘Amazing, bring it down here’ the being answered. The orrery was heavy but Marissa didn’t care, she had to help the being, it’s all that she could think about, everything else in her mind was fading away the closer she came to the basement. Her life, her friends, her family, all of those thoughts melted in her head, all she could think about was freeing the being. She made it to the door, ‘the sun at the center, open it’ the being spoke in a serious tone she looked down at the orrery and opened the sun in the middle. As it opened a glowing ball of light emerged, ‘You've done it, you’ve really done it! I knew you could. The handle of the door shook a bit, ‘open the door please’. She knew that even if she tried she couldn’t stop herself from opening it. As the door opened a tentacle reached out to the light,  and as it did Marissa saw more memories. Worlds destroyed, the being destroying planet after planet across the cosmos, leaving nothing behind. Over what seemed like eons this being wiped out millions of planets, “After all this time” the entity's voice echoed through her head, “I am finally free, no matter how hard beings have tried the cycle always ends with the end of all organic life”. As the being consumed the light Marissa heard the last thoughts reverberate through her mind.

 

“Thank you Marissa, you’re my hero”

"The Eclipse of the Willow" by Shanthi A

The moon, a lifeless rock that owns the night, lingers in the bright blue sky waiting for the sun. Gusts of air fly through the forest, whistling and shouting nonsense at one another.

The murder of crows, spying amidst the branches, screech in unison alerting the willow that someone is approaching. A girl, wide-eyed and pure, emerges from beyond the haze, tightly grasping the trunks of nearby trees. The willow tracks her every move as she wobbles through, frantically searching for the next thing to grab onto. There are no thoughts as to why she's alone, poking around in the darkest part of the forest, only bloodlust. Liquid as hot as the Earth’s core courses through its body. Its restlessness grows as the girl moves closer.

 

 

The haze thickens as the girl travels deeper into the forest. When she can no longer see what’s right in front of her, she turns to head back home; however, the sudden sound of water piqued her interest. A screech from one of the winged creatures causes the girl to slip on the rocks and into the murky water below her. When she looks up, a beautiful willow tree emerges from the fog just on the other side of the water. Its wondrous stature catches the eye of the girl, luring her in. She stands in awe, engulfed in how large in size yet graceful the willow tree is. Wonder enters her mind as to why it’s trapped deep in the forest with only the company of the crows.

Before she can finish her thought, a bird as big as the sun, as dark as night, with claws sharp enough to tear a hole in the sky appears. The girl tries to run, but its speed is unmatched. She falls to the floor and squeezes her eyes shut, wishing that she never left her home. She remembers the flowers she planted getting ready for Spring, the pleasant sounds of the birds singing and the animals chatting, her mother calling her in for dinner.

Heavy breathing and eyes full of tears, she grips her arms tight, so much so that the pigment of her skin appears white. Wondering why she has not been torn to shreds, she opens her eyes to find the enormous bird gone and a small crow where it once was. It stares intensely at her, and before the girl can react it flies away. She quickly gets up and runs towards the direction of home, but the willow tree appears in front of her again. In disbelief that she got disoriented, she turns to head in the opposite direction. However, the tree is there once more. She tries and tries again, yet no path is leading her to anywhere else except the frightening tree.

Running around until her feet ache, the girl falls to the ground and stares at the sky through the haze above her. Thinking she might be going insane, she turns her head to look at the willow tree not too far from her. She gets up and heads for the tree, however, the small crow from before glides down next to her. It stares at her once again, and then hops along the floor. Hesitant at first, the girl travels behind the crow as it leads her back to the tree. It gives her one last look, almost pitiful, and flies up into its branches. Following it, she reaches out and grabs onto the tree. The girl, like a fool, trusted the crow.

 

 

The blackhole moon finally captures the blazing sun, leaving nothing but murderous red light emitting from the willow. Screams emanate through the forest as the girl cries in horror, watching her hands start to melt against the burning tree. She thrashes around, breaking away what’s left of her hands. The winged creatures that were once ordinary birds now have the horns of a ram and tails of a lion. They dart towards the girl, weaving through the thick branches. She attempts to escape, but the creatures surround her, forcing her to crawl back towards the monstrous tree.

The willow whips its branches out and grabs the girl by her arms, causing them to bend and snap. She wails, begging the tree to stop. It tears its roots out from under the Earth and wraps them around the girl. She flails under the burning roots, and the screams that were once heard are now sobs.

How did it come to this? She didn’t mean to travel this far alone, she didn’t mean to go up to the unknown tree, she didn’t mean for any of this. She just wants to go home to her family. To her mother preparing food, scolding her little brother and sister for sneaking in some sweets before dinner. To the comforting sight of her father stoking the fire, chasing the cold out. She tries to hold onto the memories of her family as her consciousness fades, but it’s all too much. She exhales her final breath, regretting ever leaving the front yard.