Revisiting January’s blog . . .
In the poem “The Road Not Taken,” Frost speaks of choosing one of two diverging roads along a wooded path. His I’ll-take-this-and-not-that method of decision making seems a bit simplistic and two-dimensional, considering the magnitude of the selective process as it interfaces with our everyday lives. The subject of choice brings to mind the idea of free will and its polar opposite, preordination—a topic under considerable scrutiny in most Western circles. I suggest we leave the comforts of this proverbial “forest” to seek a broader perspective on this matter.
In my short story, “Cherry Flavored,” Lila Roth perceives herself in total control of her actions. She chooses a college out west, believing the move was of her own doing, though precipitated by parental stresses: her father’s harsh indifference, her mother’s selfish extravagance. What if the intolerable conflict at home was a ruse, perpetrated by destiny’s hand, causing Lila to move to a more suitable environment, where her true gifts and talents might prosper?
The concept of predetermination versus choice plays an important thematic role throughout the movie, “Slumdog Millionaire.” In the opening scene of the movie, a title card reads: Jamal Malik is one question away from winning 20 Million Rupees. How did he do it? Four answer choices are presented: (A) He cheated, (B) He's lucky, (C) He's a genius, and (D) It is written. In that context, "it is written" is similar in meaning to "it is fated" or "it is destiny.” Option D, in this instance, is deemed correct. If destiny or fate does in fact exist (as intimated in the screenplay), what is its effect on the precept of choice, or free will?
Consider Lila’s upbringing. Born into New York City’s aristocracy, the stage is set for her to begin a life of privilege and opportunity. Her birthright is the foundation on which her life is built. Yet how did this initial meetup with her parents come about? From a random mixture of DNA within a given genetic cesspool? Or was this Lila’s doing from a higher, more cosmic vantage point preceding her birth?
Many Eastern factions, in contrast to Western Judeo-Christian ideology, use reincarnation (the rebirth of a soul in a new body) as a springboard for their understanding of worldly existence. The corporeal experience is likened to a play or movie, scripted by an individual prior to a particular birth for the purpose of working on specific issues in the upcoming incarnation. There is no free will, they say. Nor is the process of rebirth a haphazard or accidental phenomenon.
Throughout the story, Lila struggles with the play of her life against the backdrop of her past. She adopts a defensive posture of indifference and apathy, which warp her interactions with others at every turn. Finding her own power in a substructure of decay—with both her family and roommates, Esther and Stewart—is a daily challenge. At the story’s conclusion, Lila teeters on the jagged edge of a difficult decision. Tempted by an easy fix to her problems, she then makes an impactful choice, redirecting the course of her life across unexplored terrain.
Was Lila’s choice the result of a predetermined outcome? The answer, I believe, rests in a indeterminate morass of speculation and uncertainty. Or is our time-honored ignorance in this matter fated as well?
In the poem “The Road Not Taken,” Frost speaks of choosing one of two diverging roads along a wooded path. His I’ll-take-this-and-not-that method of decision making seems a bit simplistic and two-dimensional, considering the magnitude of the selective process as it interfaces with our everyday lives. The subject of choice brings to mind the idea of free will and its polar opposite, preordination—a topic under considerable scrutiny in most Western circles. I suggest we leave the comforts of this proverbial “forest” to seek a broader perspective on this matter.
In my short story, “Cherry Flavored,” Lila Roth perceives herself in total control of her actions. She chooses a college out west, believing the move was of her own doing, though precipitated by parental stresses: her father’s harsh indifference, her mother’s selfish extravagance. What if the intolerable conflict at home was a ruse, perpetrated by destiny’s hand, causing Lila to move to a more suitable environment, where her true gifts and talents might prosper?
The concept of predetermination versus choice plays an important thematic role throughout the movie, “Slumdog Millionaire.” In the opening scene of the movie, a title card reads: Jamal Malik is one question away from winning 20 Million Rupees. How did he do it? Four answer choices are presented: (A) He cheated, (B) He's lucky, (C) He's a genius, and (D) It is written. In that context, "it is written" is similar in meaning to "it is fated" or "it is destiny.” Option D, in this instance, is deemed correct. If destiny or fate does in fact exist (as intimated in the screenplay), what is its effect on the precept of choice, or free will?
Consider Lila’s upbringing. Born into New York City’s aristocracy, the stage is set for her to begin a life of privilege and opportunity. Her birthright is the foundation on which her life is built. Yet how did this initial meetup with her parents come about? From a random mixture of DNA within a given genetic cesspool? Or was this Lila’s doing from a higher, more cosmic vantage point preceding her birth?
Many Eastern factions, in contrast to Western Judeo-Christian ideology, use reincarnation (the rebirth of a soul in a new body) as a springboard for their understanding of worldly existence. The corporeal experience is likened to a play or movie, scripted by an individual prior to a particular birth for the purpose of working on specific issues in the upcoming incarnation. There is no free will, they say. Nor is the process of rebirth a haphazard or accidental phenomenon.
Throughout the story, Lila struggles with the play of her life against the backdrop of her past. She adopts a defensive posture of indifference and apathy, which warp her interactions with others at every turn. Finding her own power in a substructure of decay—with both her family and roommates, Esther and Stewart—is a daily challenge. At the story’s conclusion, Lila teeters on the jagged edge of a difficult decision. Tempted by an easy fix to her problems, she then makes an impactful choice, redirecting the course of her life across unexplored terrain.
Was Lila’s choice the result of a predetermined outcome? The answer, I believe, rests in a indeterminate morass of speculation and uncertainty. Or is our time-honored ignorance in this matter fated as well?