Personal reflection on "East of Eden"

I recently finished reading "East of Eden" by John Steinbeck. What an amazing book. According to the preface in my edition, Steinbeck, in "Journal of a Novel: The East of Eden Letters"¹, remarked that the people in the book are essentially "symbol people." I found Steinbeck's symbolic representation of the human experience remarkably accessible. I felt that I had Samuel, Adam, Tom, Will, and even a little Cathy all mixed up inside of me. I won't go into detail about who each of these characters is and what they're known for–you'll just have to read the book if you haven't already :). This book touched me and compelled me to write a quick reflection. What follows is a reflection in the form of a mostly unedited stream of consciousness.

Samuel said that Tom was struggling, arguing, with greatness. He said that greatness is a lonely place–mediocrity, on the other hand, has company. Tom, with his whiplash of emotions, the redness and blackness of his countenance, his secret stash of poetry that he burned before he died, the way he absorbs all of the ideas that he reads about, reminded me of myself. I feel that I, too, struggle with greatness. I have been encouraged to seize every opportunity to achieve and to be great, and I have been blessed with a rich, rigorous education that has prepared me to take on any challenge. Yet, I struggle with direction, just as Tom tried his hand in business, in farming, and in other professions, and none of them stuck. Tom said, "I get no great triumph when I win and no tragedy when I lose. Without these it [business] is meaningless." He's the only child of Samuel's that did not get his start. He never left the ranch. I feel that the time has come for me to choose my direction. Tom reminded me of the consequences of never finding footing. I wonder, though, what Tom was afraid of? Perhaps he felt that no one understood him, and that any worldly enterprise would require him to behave inauthentically. This is reasonable–I feel that I often have to put on a mask in order to succeed in the career-oriented world. I fear that if I reject such posturing, the American cultural consciousness would reject me.

Now we have touched on the theme of this book: rejection. A deep fear of rejection, and a desire for acceptance and belonging, are written into our souls. This is perhaps our deepest desire. Lee said that the story of Cain and Abel, the story of rejection by the parent, the Creator, is "the symbol story of the human soul." The rejection, or fear of it, leads to "anger, and with anger some kind of crime in revenge for the rejection, and with the crime guilt–and there is the story of mankind." A son's rejection by his father might lead the son to do great things in an attempt to win his father's favor, stealing, lying, cheating along the way. Or another might commit heinous acts out of spite, then wallow in guilt. When I read this, I felt it deeply, because I understood that my consciousness contains these patterns. And I need to break them.

In response to this remarkable diagnosis of the human condition, Steinbeck offers us a choice, literally. Lee, in a pivotal scene, reveals to Samuel and Adam the results of his and other Chinese elders' analysis of the original Hebrew text of the Cain and Abel story, concerning the true meaning of timshel, translated, according to the characters in the book, as "thou shalt" or "do thou," as in "If thou doest well, shalt thou not be accepted? And if thou doest not well, sin lieth at the door. And unto thee shall be his desire, and thou shalt rule over him." Instead of a command or a promise, timshel is instead "thou mayest," a choice. Thus we are liberated from our own guilt. We can choose how to respond to our rejection. The response of letting anger creep in is tempting; if we are never exposed to anything else, perhaps it is near impossible to climb out of.²

I, like all of us, have a choice. Tom had a choice too. He felt rejected because he did not possess what he saw as the natural gifts of his siblings and parents. His inner anger at this led him to be reclusive and to write "secret poetry," which had to be secret lest he face the rejection of his contemporaries. And his crime appears to have been self-loathing. I suppose that my crime, then, is similar: a lack of conviction. I often have puzzled about what can give startup founders, for instance, so much conviction. I believe now that startup founders make a choice, and through believing in their vision, it becomes true. They, through their conviction, shape the world to align with their belief. The world responds better to some beliefs than others, which is why startups pivot, but the conviction remains until success, and may fizzle out upon failure. No startup that quavers over greatness succeeds. In other words, some founders that have conviction fail, but no founder that does not have conviction ever succeeds.³

The time has come for me to internalize timshel, and to make a choice. I must no longer feel regret, a form of anger, at going down a well-paved path in order to win favor with my risk-averse family and community. AI safety, in particular, seems to be a pressing issue that I would like to dedicate myself to. Conviction as to why this is important is easy to come by. Now I just need to immerse myself.

There is so much more I could say and reflect on, but what is written here reflects what resonates most with me. I look forward to reading more of John Steinbeck's work.