Why Dough-n’t You Turn Around?
Plato’s idea of the prisoners in a cave is one that not many think of relating to our daily lives. That seems to be a theme with those on the outside of the philosophical sphere we have stepped into during the last few weeks. Plato raises an interesting and somewhat baffling concept; all things are not as we see them. To think that those shadows on the wall were nothing but figurines after a lifetime centred around them would be earth-shattering, to say the least. The very fact that what your eyes tell you is true might be a trick is almost impossible to grasp with our supposed knowledge of the world around us through our own experiences.
Now, I may attempt to claim I have no recollection of a ‘cave’ that I have been trapped within but, isn’t that a cave in and of itself? To take a moment and think about this more in-depth, I was, of course, quite quick in coming up with a sketch of my own cave. As a child there are many caves, most relating to fairy tales and figures we see during holidays and celebrations. Unfortunately, I can’t be bothered to fluff my post enough to get a pleasant story out of this so, we are going to talk about the 50% of marriages that don’t end in happily ever after. Having divorced parents isn’t something anyone aspires to achieve but, there are as many stable and cohesive divorce relationships as there are destructive and spiteful. I was an adorable child. I’m not even leaving that up to argument; I was the cutest baby ever.
And, being an adorable baby, it was only a matter of time before two forces attempted to brainwash me into being theirs’. My childhood was a minefield of caves into which I was dragged or pushed. My initial outlook on life was that my father was amazing. No, like he was actually the best thing to ever have existed and he could do nothing wrong. My mother slowly shifted me to her side as my parents began the splitting of everything, showing me shadows on the wall to calm me and give me something to focus on. Next came my dad’s twisting of my mind as he turned me to an alternate wall in the cave, thoroughly convincing me that it was he who was my saviour and caregiver. As my parents’ relationship as co-parents grew strenuous my false beliefs only deepened. My father was, once again, the one who was untouchable and the only one who truly loved me (I just realised this whole thing makes a really good argument for how easily impressionable children are and why you can’t really trust their opinions on anything haha).
After a few years, I stepped out of the cave for awhile after my father not speaking to me for over a year and a few deep conversations with my mother. I had an understanding of the relationship which had gotten me to this point and my own place within it as the common denominator. I knew neither of my parents were what I had thought as a small child but, there were some core aspects that held strong despite being exposed to the air outside the cave. It wasn’t until an incident with my father that hastened my step-mother leaving that truly brought me to my senses and allowed me to critically analyze my place and value within the family as I believed it should be rather than what I was informed it should be.
Okay enough talk about that boring stuff, have another picture of me!