It might seem like a strange thing, but when I look back on the past four years at Stevens, I think about Plato’s allegory of the cave.
The allegory begins with a group of prisoners chained in a cave, unable to turn their heads. All they can see in front of them is a blank wall. Behind the prisoners is a fire, and between the prisoners and the fire is a walkway. Puppeteers walk along the walkway and use objects to cast shadows on the cave wall. The prisoners do not know what a shadow is, nor who’s making it, and the prisoners truly believe that these shadows are part of their reality. They design entire systems and ways of life around these shadows, giving names to figures and studying shapes, and awarding honors for those who best identify figures.
One prisoner eventually breaks free from the chains and looks around. He sees the fire used to cast shadows on the wall. He turns away his head, feeling blinded not only by the intensity of the light but also by the knowledge of his reality. He retreats toward the other prisoners, not wanting to believe what he now knows, and yet he can’t help but see the shadow more clearly with his new knowledge.
The freed prisoner is then forced out of the cave, and he begins making sense of the world above ground. He looks at shadows and reflections, and for the first time he looks at objects and people directly. He looks at the sun, and he begins to make sense of seasons, weather, time, and space. He begins to make sense of a world existing beyond a cave wall. Suddenly all of the people and established practices in the cave become meaningless. Outside of the cave, the only thing that matters is continuing the process of liberation.
In many ways, I feel like the freed prisoner stumbling out of the cave for the first time, beginning his journey toward liberation. When I first came to Stevens, I had a clear vision for the four years ahead of me. I had ideas for what I was supposed to do and who I should be. By the time I reached graduation, I wanted to feel and exist in a certain way: intellectually fulfilled, economically secure, and on my way to accomplish bigger goals.
But over time, that vision got muddier and withered away. Class work and lectures began to challenge what mattered most to me. Meeting other people and joining student organizations made me realize I had more skills and talents than I previously thought. In March 2020, when the pandemic hit, the whole world was in chaos, and I felt so unsure of my journey ahead. But through this chaos, I’ve begun seeing the world more clearly for what it truly is: uncertain and a work in progress. It’s also shown me that I, too, am a work in progress.
With graduation ahead, I’ve been reflecting on the past four years and how they have shaped me. I’ve been exposed to new ways of being that have challenged how I understood the world. I have made mistakes more times than I want to admit, and I have learned how to embrace failure and uncertainty and accept the lessons made by these moments. I have learned that I know far less than I thought I did, and I have learned how to forgive myself in spite of everything. In the end, I have a deeper understanding of who I really am and who I can become.
By the end of Plato’s allegory of the cave, the freed prisoner returns from the outside world to the cave to liberate the other prisoners. His eyes are weak, having been exposed to sunlight and now returning to the dark. He attempts to explain the beauty of the outside to the other prisoners, how they’ve misunderstood the world the whole time, and how there is much more available to them. Yet the other prisoners can’t make sense of what the outside is. All they see is that the freed prisoner is now blinded, and they assume going outside will blind them too. They reject the freed prisoner and decide the best thing they can do is kill him and move forward with their lives as prisoners in the cave.
The deeper lesson is this: We have to take risks to make our perspective known to the world. We have to go in directions that society might not like. We have to be willing to face people who won’t understand us. We might have to give up everything to become who we should be. If we don’t, we risk keeping ourselves chained to a moment in time, old ways of existing, staring at the same image of life forever.
To the graduating Ducks: It’s okay to be scared of what’s next, but know that you’re ready for it in every way. Be courageous. Stay true to yourself. Oh, and of course: Per aspera, ad astra.
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