Death vs. Banishment

After we discussed the differences between the U.S. judicial system and that of the Taiga tribe in the novel Power, I realized one of the critical aspects of a judicial system that we failed to mention: punishment. I would like to briefly address this issue here, with the hope that I may spur some thought or discussion that the rest of you may choose to pick up on via your own blog or a comment on mine.

In Power, the Taiga tribe sentences Ama to be "banished" for her crime of killing the panther and failing to bring them its hide. In the U.S. legal system, we do not really have a "banishment" sentence, although life in prison is probably pretty close. In some states, however, we do have the death penalty; and I would say this, in terms of the "worst" punishment that the convicted can receive, is the U.S. equivalent of "banishment." To the Taiga tribe, "banishment is equal to death" (172). The Taiga believe the most devastating punishment receivable is "to be split from your own people, your self, to go away from the place you so love" (172). In short, the Taiga believe feeling isolated is the worst thing a person can experience. The U.S. legal system takes a different approach, believing that death is the ultimate punishment.

Why (from the U.S. legal system's viewpoint) is death worse than banishment and isolation? Is it because we are so caught up in material wealth and possessions that the prospect of losing them is unbearable? One could argue that death also seems the worst punishment possible because it also results in the loss of relationships with loved ones, but banishment and isolation accomplish that as well. So what are the major differences between the isolation caused by being banished and death itself? In a way, death seems like the easier of the two, especially for someone who is truly guilty of a terrible crime. Both death and banishment result in isolation and loss of relationships, but death--depending on what you believe--may also provide escape and relief. A dead person does not have to relive his guilt and suffer his lack of relationships every day of his life.

Of course, this could easily evolve into a religious issue that hinges on personal belief systems, but I'm still curious: Which is the worse punishment in your opinion?

Running in the Rain

MIAA Cross-Country Conference Championships 2007 (My Freshman Year at SMC)...A Rainy and AWESOME Run!!!

Omishto's connection with nature in the novel Power caused me to reflect on some of my own experiences with nature. I ran cross-country and track all throughout high school (I was also on the Saint Mary's cross-country team last year, but I had to sit out this season due to injury...I am hoping to return to competing next season). Running has always been a major stress-reliever for me, but it also helps me feel connected to nature (one reason that I detest running on treadmills). I have always felt particularly connected to my high school cross-country course, which includes a lot of trails and wooded areas, as well as a very STEEP and infamous hill that has been christened "Agony" (I know we have been discussing analyzing names in order to uncover their significance, but I think this one speaks for itself). Reading about Omishto's experience in the storm as well as some of her amazing imagery and personification of nature compelled me to compose the following prose piece about one of the semi-state cross-country meets that I ran in high school, which was held on our home course at New Prairie High School on a particularly cold and very rainy Saturday morning.

Frigid and penetrating, the icy raindrops cascade down my spine as my toes squishes and squirms through the muck to find its pace along the newly-smeared line of white paint. The crack of the starting gun reverberates through my skull as my nearly-numb feet struggle to push off of the soggy ground and begin navigating the swamp that is left of the course. Sheets of rain create a curtain of hazy gray. My eyes squint and catch glimpses of images that are blurred by the rain and my speed: a fallen orange cone, collecting rainwater; a familiar face, sheltered under a midnight black umbrella, shouting incoherent words of encouragement against the wind's deafening war; and, finally, the sight that evokes that peculiar mixture of dread and adrenaline: Agony.

Pulsating with veins of rainwater, she towers over me: strong, intimidating, seemingly alive, and needing to be conquered. The silver points of my running spikes mercilessly stab her as I begin my ascent. A sudden flush of heat rises to my cheeks, contrasting with the brisk coolness of the unrelenting raindrops. Perspiration steadily trickles from my forehead, stinging my eyes. The scents of sweat and this morning's shampoo invade my nostrils, while my taste buds cringe from a mixture of kicked-up mud and regurgitated Lucky Charms. My pumping arms rub against my cotton uniform, and the friction creates a fire along the inside of my inner biceps. I reach the top of my mountainous foe, my legs cramping from the effort but relieved that she's behind me now.

With the finish line in sight, I sprint through tunnel of brightly multicolored flags. The rains stabs at my face like thousands of little needles, and pinpricks cause me to wonder if Mother Nature has taken up acupuncture. The crowd screams, fueling the lactic acid surging through my muscles. My legs stride out, hungry for the white line ahead of me that will provide them with relief. And then I'm done, and too tired to feel anything anymore.