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3.95 AVERAGE
3.95 AVERAGE
If I could bring back any non-relative back from the dead, there's a good chance I'd choose Tolstoy (or Roger Martin du Gard, but since I've just read A Confession, I'm going with Tolstoy).
When I read Anna Karenina and War and Peace, I particularly loved the characters Levin and Pierre. Their earnest reflections, their spiritual searchings, their desire to live a simple life (especially Levin's) resonated with me, and made me curious about Tolstoy himself.
Since then, I have read more about him, and have been in awe of his progressive Christianity and equally progressive ideas on education. Really, I feel like I'd get along with him very well.
That feeling, kind of like wanting to know a kindred spirit, also made me pick up this book in London.
In this book of barely 100 pages, Tolstoy relays his spiritual searching. The first half is pretty dark: he describes his rejection of Church doctrine, his involvement in artists' circles, and his subsequent severe depression. When he is in his mid- to late forties, everything he has believed in since his young adulthood suddenly feels wholly empty to him, and he has no idea what to do about it.
Intelligent as he is, he goes in search for answers in every branch of science he can think of; from mathematics to metaphysics, but he can't find any answers that take away his existential angst. Over and over again, he keeps returning to question: why am I alive? and fails to come up with a satisfactory answer. More than once, he thinks about killing himself, because it seems the "rational" thing to do (since every scientific search tells him his life has no meaning).
But something is stopping him.
When he realizes that many people (peasants, mostly) are in fact very much able to live a meaningful life, he realizes he has been looking for answers in all the wrong places. These peasants not only have faith, but fully practice what they believe (love, for example). He writes:
"Thus in addition to rational knowledge, which I had hitherto thought to be the only knowledge, I was inevitably led to acknowledge that there does exist another kind of knowledge - an irrational one - possessed by humanity as a whole: faith, which affords the possibility of living. Faith remained to me as irrational as before, but I could not fail to recognize that it alone provides mankind with the answers to the question of life, and consequently with the possibility of life" (57).
To me, this meant something along the lines of: I recognize that much of believing is irrational, but since it gives life meaning, it gives people hope, and allows them to live fully and trustingly. It allows them to really live with relative ease. And since it allows them to live fully, there must be a truth and a value to it that science can't explain.
I thought that was so beautiful.
From that moment onwards, Tolstoy starts to believe again, although he is still sceptical. And what I appreciate so much about this book, is that he never represses his critical mind. He remains simultaneously committed to the Orthodox Church, and critical of it. I think that is a very healthy attitude.
As a result of both his readings on Christianity and his critical thinking, he comes to believe that love and unity of all peoples is what faith really is all about. It's about creating a loving community, and practicing that love every day. This also means he cannot accept some of the Church's teachings, such as that everyone who is not Greek/Russian Orthodox is a heretic, or that enemies of the country need to be killed in war. These, to him, are logical fallacies if one is to love everyone.
And so his vision of Christianity comes to touch on Buddhism, in some ways, in the sense that it is rooted in love and the fundamental oneness of everything in the universe.
It was fascinating to read his reflections and realizations, and while I do not agree with everything (and don't find every argument equally convincing) this was a really good read. Now, if only I could talk it over with Tolstoy himself!
When I read Anna Karenina and War and Peace, I particularly loved the characters Levin and Pierre. Their earnest reflections, their spiritual searchings, their desire to live a simple life (especially Levin's) resonated with me, and made me curious about Tolstoy himself.
Since then, I have read more about him, and have been in awe of his progressive Christianity and equally progressive ideas on education. Really, I feel like I'd get along with him very well.
That feeling, kind of like wanting to know a kindred spirit, also made me pick up this book in London.
In this book of barely 100 pages, Tolstoy relays his spiritual searching. The first half is pretty dark: he describes his rejection of Church doctrine, his involvement in artists' circles, and his subsequent severe depression. When he is in his mid- to late forties, everything he has believed in since his young adulthood suddenly feels wholly empty to him, and he has no idea what to do about it.
Intelligent as he is, he goes in search for answers in every branch of science he can think of; from mathematics to metaphysics, but he can't find any answers that take away his existential angst. Over and over again, he keeps returning to question: why am I alive? and fails to come up with a satisfactory answer. More than once, he thinks about killing himself, because it seems the "rational" thing to do (since every scientific search tells him his life has no meaning).
But something is stopping him.
When he realizes that many people (peasants, mostly) are in fact very much able to live a meaningful life, he realizes he has been looking for answers in all the wrong places. These peasants not only have faith, but fully practice what they believe (love, for example). He writes:
"Thus in addition to rational knowledge, which I had hitherto thought to be the only knowledge, I was inevitably led to acknowledge that there does exist another kind of knowledge - an irrational one - possessed by humanity as a whole: faith, which affords the possibility of living. Faith remained to me as irrational as before, but I could not fail to recognize that it alone provides mankind with the answers to the question of life, and consequently with the possibility of life" (57).
To me, this meant something along the lines of: I recognize that much of believing is irrational, but since it gives life meaning, it gives people hope, and allows them to live fully and trustingly. It allows them to really live with relative ease. And since it allows them to live fully, there must be a truth and a value to it that science can't explain.
I thought that was so beautiful.
From that moment onwards, Tolstoy starts to believe again, although he is still sceptical. And what I appreciate so much about this book, is that he never represses his critical mind. He remains simultaneously committed to the Orthodox Church, and critical of it. I think that is a very healthy attitude.
As a result of both his readings on Christianity and his critical thinking, he comes to believe that love and unity of all peoples is what faith really is all about. It's about creating a loving community, and practicing that love every day. This also means he cannot accept some of the Church's teachings, such as that everyone who is not Greek/Russian Orthodox is a heretic, or that enemies of the country need to be killed in war. These, to him, are logical fallacies if one is to love everyone.
And so his vision of Christianity comes to touch on Buddhism, in some ways, in the sense that it is rooted in love and the fundamental oneness of everything in the universe.
It was fascinating to read his reflections and realizations, and while I do not agree with everything (and don't find every argument equally convincing) this was a really good read. Now, if only I could talk it over with Tolstoy himself!
Tolstoy's struggle with the meaning of life and his suicidal ideation really inform some of his best characters. I'm thinking of Pierre Bezukhoz. I appreciate Tolstoy's struggle here but I think he packs more of a punch when he puts these thoughts and concerns into his characters than he does when he just says them outright.
Bana biraz Tolstoyun viyaklamaları gibi geldi (Allah affetsin). Varoluşsal bunalımları, Tanrı vs..
"Há uma velha fábula oriental sobre um viajante que é apanhado desprevenido nas estepes por um animal selvagem feroz. Para salvar-se da besta, o viajante salta para dentro de um poço seco, mas avista, no fundo, um dragão de goela escancarada pronto a devorá-lo. O infeliz não se atreve a subir para não ser destroçado pelo animal feroz, não se atreve a descer ao fundo do poço para não ser devorado pelo dragão, agarra-se aos ramos de um arbusto silvestre que cresceu nas fissuras da parede do poço e pendura-se ali. As mãos vão perdendo a força e ele sente que terá de se render à morte que o espera de ambos os lados; no entanto, continua a segurar-se e, enquanto se segura, olha para o lado e vê dois ratos, um preto e um branco, que se movem com indiferença em volta do galho em que ele se segura, e roem o galho. Daqui a pouco, o galho vai ceder e romper-se sozinho e ele vai cair nas goelas do dragão. O viajante vê isso e sabe que será inevitavelmente destruído; mas, por enquanto, mantém-se pendurado, procura em volta e encontra, nas folhas do arbusto, uma gota de mel, alcança-a com a língua e lambe.
É assim que eu me agarro aos galhos da vida, sabendo o que me espera, inevitavelmente, o dragão da morte, pronto para me estraçalhar, e não consigo entender para que vim parar neste tormento. E também eu experimento sugar esse mel que antes me consolava; mas esse mel já não me alegra, e o rato branco e o rato preto — o dia e a noite — roem o galho no qual eu me seguro. Porque vejo com clareza o dragão, o mel já não me traz doçura. Vejo só uma coisa — o dragão inevitável e os ratos — e não consigo desviar os meus olhos. E isto não é uma lenda, isto é a verdade, inquestionável e entendida por todos.
A antiga ilusão da alegria de viver, que sufocava o horror do dragão, já não me ilude. Por mais que me digam: não somos capazes de entender o sentido da vida, não pense, viva — não consigo fazer isso, porque já fiz isso antes, por muito tempo. Agora, não consigo deixar de ver os dias e as noites, que correm e me levam para a morte. É só isso que vejo, porque só isso é a verdade. Tudo o resto é mentira. Aquelas duas gotas de mel que, por mais tempo do que as outras, desviaram os meus olhos da verdade cruel — o amor à família e à escrita, que eu chamava arte — já não me trazem doçura."
Excerto de "Confissão" (1880), de Leo Tolstói
É assim que eu me agarro aos galhos da vida, sabendo o que me espera, inevitavelmente, o dragão da morte, pronto para me estraçalhar, e não consigo entender para que vim parar neste tormento. E também eu experimento sugar esse mel que antes me consolava; mas esse mel já não me alegra, e o rato branco e o rato preto — o dia e a noite — roem o galho no qual eu me seguro. Porque vejo com clareza o dragão, o mel já não me traz doçura. Vejo só uma coisa — o dragão inevitável e os ratos — e não consigo desviar os meus olhos. E isto não é uma lenda, isto é a verdade, inquestionável e entendida por todos.
A antiga ilusão da alegria de viver, que sufocava o horror do dragão, já não me ilude. Por mais que me digam: não somos capazes de entender o sentido da vida, não pense, viva — não consigo fazer isso, porque já fiz isso antes, por muito tempo. Agora, não consigo deixar de ver os dias e as noites, que correm e me levam para a morte. É só isso que vejo, porque só isso é a verdade. Tudo o resto é mentira. Aquelas duas gotas de mel que, por mais tempo do que as outras, desviaram os meus olhos da verdade cruel — o amor à família e à escrita, que eu chamava arte — já não me trazem doçura."
Excerto de "Confissão" (1880), de Leo Tolstói
TW: reads like a long suicide letter until he becomes religious
Pros
Easy to read and accessible
Surprisingly (to me) relatable
Humanises people like Tolstoy who has been put on the pedestal of literature
Interesting to see his open thought process of trying to find the meaning or life and a purpose to live, how he tries to ask others and organise their answers in categories, how he perceives religion and it's flaws.
Cons
Reads like the diary of a naive 20 year old in our times (which I did like because it humanises him but he is in his 50s when he writes this)
He starts off claiming that women, uneducated and marginalized people are ignorant and that's how they can live without having phylosphical frustrations like himself. Throughout the book we get to see the begining of his anarchist thinking and starting to appreciate poor people, although it's still very classist. Women are still labled as only ignorant.
Ends on an odd note of: there will be other books explaining his believes after he starts to question the church as a Christian, which I found frustrating.
Pros
Easy to read and accessible
Surprisingly (to me) relatable
Humanises people like Tolstoy who has been put on the pedestal of literature
Interesting to see his open thought process of trying to find the meaning or life and a purpose to live, how he tries to ask others and organise their answers in categories, how he perceives religion and it's flaws.
Cons
Reads like the diary of a naive 20 year old in our times (which I did like because it humanises him but he is in his 50s when he writes this)
He starts off claiming that women, uneducated and marginalized people are ignorant and that's how they can live without having phylosphical frustrations like himself. Throughout the book we get to see the begining of his anarchist thinking and starting to appreciate poor people, although it's still very classist. Women are still labled as only ignorant.
Ends on an odd note of: there will be other books explaining his believes after he starts to question the church as a Christian, which I found frustrating.
hopeful
reflective
sad
medium-paced
reflective
slow-paced
This was sort of interesting. Tolstoy writes in a very boring way, but I found the subject matter to be somewhat intriguing and I found the questions that he asked to be worthwhile.
“To understand life I must understand not an exceptional life ... but the life of the simple labouring folk.”