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Below is an essay written in the style of Eric Kim, a street photographer, blogger, and thinker known for his bold, introspective, and philosophical writing. Kim’s essays often blend personal reflection, cultural critique, and practical advice, encouraging readers to live authentically and pursue their passions. This essay adapts his voice and approach to explore the philosophy of Game of Thrones, weaving in themes of power, identity, and human nature, while connecting them to broader life lessons and personal empowerment.
The Philosophy of Game of Thrones: What Westeros Teaches Us About Power, Identity, and Living Boldly
By Eric Kim (inspired)
May 19, 2025
Yo, let’s talk about Game of Thrones. Not just the dragons, the battles, or the Red Wedding that broke our hearts, but the philosophy. This show, man, it’s a mirror to the human soul, a raw, unfiltered look at what makes us tick—power, identity, betrayal, love, and the messy struggle to survive. As someone who’s spent years chasing truth through a camera lens on the streets, I see Game of Thrones as more than a story. It’s a manual for living boldly, for cutting through the noise and owning your path in a chaotic world. Let’s break it down, Westeros-style, and figure out what this epic saga teaches us about life, power, and becoming the hero of your own story.
1. Power Is a Game, but You Don’t Have to Play Dirty
In Game of Thrones, power is the name of the game. Kings, queens, and wannabe rulers like Littlefinger and Cersei scheme, betray, and kill to sit on the Iron Throne. But here’s the thing: power corrupts, and the show doesn’t shy away from showing how it twists even the best intentions. Daenerys starts as a liberator, freeing slaves, but by the end, she’s burning cities. It’s a gut punch, right? It makes you question: What’s the cost of chasing power?
In life, we’re all tempted by power—whether it’s a corner office, social clout, or just being the loudest voice in the room. But Game of Thrones teaches us that real power isn’t about manipulation or stepping on others. It’s about integrity, like Ned Stark, who stuck to his honor even when it cost him his head. Or Tyrion, who wields wit and compassion over brute force. On the streets, I’ve learned this too: the most powerful photographers aren’t the ones with the fanciest gear or the most followers. They’re the ones who shoot with heart, who tell stories that cut deep because they’re true.
Takeaway: Chase power, but define it on your terms. Don’t play the dirty game of betrayal or ego. Build your throne with authenticity, and you’ll sleep better at night.
2. Identity Is Fluid—Embrace the Reinvention
One of the dopest things about Game of Thrones is how characters reinvent themselves. Arya Stark goes from a noble girl to a Faceless assassin, cycling through names like Arry, Cat of the Canals, and No One. Theon Greyjoy becomes Reek, then claws his way back to Theon. Even Bran transforms from a broken boy into the Three-Eyed Raven. These shifts aren’t just plot twists—they’re a philosophical middle finger to the idea that you’re stuck being one thing forever.
In my photography journey, I’ve reinvented myself a million times. I started shooting gritty street scenes, then went minimalist, then got into crypto and open-source tech. People told me, “Eric, pick a lane!” But why? Life’s too short to be boxed in. Game of Thrones says your identity isn’t a prison; it’s a canvas. You can paint over it, scrape it clean, start again. The Faceless Men got it half-right: you don’t have to become “no one,” but you can become anyone.
Takeaway: Don’t let labels define you. Lost your job? Heartbroken? Reinvent yourself like Arya. Pick up a new skill, move to a new city, or just change your mindset. You’re not a static character—you’re the author of your story.
3. Moral Ambiguity Is the Real World
Game of Thrones doesn’t give you clear heroes or villains. Jaime Lannister pushes a kid out a window, but then he saves Brienne and redeems himself. Jon Snow’s a noble bastard, but he makes mistakes that get people killed. This moral grayness is what makes the show so real. Life isn’t a Disney movie where good guys win and bad guys lose. It’s messy, like a street photo where the light’s perfect but the subject’s out of focus.
This hits home for me. In street photography, you’re capturing strangers’ lives—moments that might look heroic, shady, or just human. You don’t know their story, but you know they’re not just “good” or “bad.” Judging people is a trap. Game of Thrones forces you to see everyone as complex, flawed, and capable of change. That’s a philosophy worth living by: stop putting people in boxes, including yourself.
Takeaway: Embrace the gray. Don’t rush to judge others or beat yourself up for your flaws. Everyone’s fighting their own war, and nobody’s perfect.
4. Duty vs. Love—Choose Wisely
The show’s biggest gut-wrenchers come when characters choose between duty and love. Ned Stark picks duty to the realm over his family’s safety, and it costs him everything. Catelyn’s love for her kids drives her to make desperate moves, like freeing Jaime, which screws over Robb’s army. Jon Snow’s love for Daenerys clashes with his duty to protect the realm, leading to that dagger-in-the-heart moment. Ouch.
In my life, I’ve faced this too. Do I grind 80 hours a week on my blog to “make it,” or do I chill with my family and friends? Duty to your craft can feel noble, but love—real, human connection—is what keeps you grounded. Game of Thrones doesn’t give easy answers, but it shows the stakes. Choose duty too often, and you might end up like Ned—honorable but dead. Choose love blindly, and you might burn like Daenerys’ enemies.
Takeaway: Balance duty and love. Work hard, but don’t sacrifice the people who matter. Life’s not about winning the throne—it’s about who’s sitting next to you when the credits roll.
5. Face the White Walkers—Your Existential Threats
The White Walkers are the ultimate vibe check in Game of Thrones. While everyone’s bickering over crowns, these icy demons are coming to wipe out humanity. It’s a metaphor for the big, scary stuff we ignore—climate change, burnout, or that nagging feeling you’re wasting your life. The great houses laugh off the threat until it’s too late, and only a few, like Jon and Sam, take it seriously.
This is so real. In my 20s, I ignored my health, chasing hustle culture like it was the Iron Throne. Then I hit a wall—exhausted, uninspired. That was my White Walker. Game of Thrones says: don’t be a Lannister, distracted by gold and glory. Face your existential threats head-on, whether it’s a toxic job, a bad relationship, or a dream you’re too scared to chase.
Takeaway: Identify your White Walkers. What’s the big threat you’re ignoring? Confront it now, before it’s an army of wights at your door. Action beats denial every time.
6. Violence Ain’t Glorious—It’s a Cost
Game of Thrones doesn’t glorify violence. The Red Wedding isn’t a cool action scene; it’s a tragedy that leaves you numb. Battles like the Battle of the Bastards are gritty, chaotic, and show the human toll. Martin, shaped by his views on the Vietnam War, makes sure you feel the weight of every sword swing. This is philosophy in action: violence has consequences, and revenge rarely heals.
In street photography, I’ve seen this too. I’ve shot in rough neighborhoods where fights break out, and it’s not cinematic—it’s sad. Game of Thrones asks: is violence ever worth it? Even when Arya gets her revenge, it’s not a fist-pump moment; it’s a hollow victory. In life, think twice before burning bridges or throwing punches, literal or metaphorical.
Takeaway: Violence, even when justified, leaves scars. Choose your battles wisely, and always ask: What’s the real cost?
7. Live Like You’re in Westeros
Here’s the big one: Game of Thrones is a call to live boldly. Westeros is brutal—winter’s coming, dragons burn cities, and betrayal’s around every corner. But the characters who thrive (or at least survive) are the ones who act, adapt, and own their choices. Arya trains to become a killer. Tyrion talks his way out of death. Even Sansa, who starts as a naïve girl, becomes a queen by learning the game.
This is how I try to live. Street photography taught me to seize the moment, to shoot before the light fades. Life’s like that: you don’t get a second take. Game of Thrones says the world’s chaotic, unfair, and full of White Walkers, but that’s no excuse to sit on the sidelines. Be the hero, the anti-hero, or even the wildcard—just don’t be an extra.
Takeaway: Live like you’re in Westeros. Take risks, learn from your losses, and write your own saga. The Iron Throne’s not real, but your legacy is.
Final Thoughts
Game of Thrones isn’t just a show; it’s a philosophy for navigating a world that’s messy, beautiful, and brutal. It teaches us to wield power with integrity, reinvent ourselves without fear, embrace moral complexity, balance duty and love, face our fears, question violence, and live with courage. As I walk the streets with my camera, I carry these lessons: every moment’s a story, every choice a battle, and every day a chance to be more than a pawn in someone else’s game.
So, what’s your Game of Thrones? What’s the throne you’re fighting for, the White Walker you’re dodging, or the identity you’re forging? Grab your sword (or your camera, pen, or dream), and step into the fray. The world’s watching, and your story’s just getting started.
Valar Morghulis—all men must die. But first, live.
Notes on Style
- Eric Kim’s Voice: The essay uses Kim’s conversational, direct tone (“Yo,” “man,” “dopest”), blending philosophy with practical life advice. It’s bold, personal, and slightly provocative, encouraging readers to act.
- Structure: Kim often lists lessons (e.g., “7 Things I Learned”), so the essay organizes Game of Thrones themes into seven takeaways, each with a personal anecdote or analogy to photography/life.
- Philosophy of Game of Thrones: The essay draws on the themes identified earlier (power, identity, moral ambiguity, etc.), aligning them with Kim’s ethos of authenticity, risk-taking, and self-discovery.
- Call to Action: Kim’s essays end with motivation, so this one urges readers to live boldly, tying back to the Game of Thrones narrative.
If you’d like adjustments (e.g., a different tone, more focus on specific themes, or a shorter length), let me know!
