I’ve spent this year thinking about the continuity of time. What is the connection between the past, present, and future. The modern world teaches us that our individual lives matter more than our collective lives. The man’s five minutes was a feeble, last moment effort to make his life matter. However, if we are serious about our lives, we will realize that the life we have has been given to us, for good or ill, by those who came before us. The lesson to learn is that our lives matter to the generations to follow. The continuity of time is realized by our generational memory. In those five minutes, the man reached for but could not ultimately grasp this truth.
This is very ancestral, pre-modern, and intuitive. There is something to be said for the ancient obsession with knowing your ancestors names, their deeds, and trying to live up to them.
Sam, I am amazed that you pulled out an incident that is only one of so many themes/lessons in “The Idiot”. I think that Dostoyevsky threw this “kitchen sink” at us as a madman would. It is for us to find our “cherry” and chew on it. You found one that you most likely could relate to in your life experience. I keep thinking what it takes for me to break a habit like minimizing small screen time.
It is quite a bitter cherry, among many more bitter ones. I am struck at how positive the Idiot is compared to his other novels, and yet it still manages to be dark—and yet I still love Dostoevsky. The screen time is a legitimate issue, I struggle with the same thing. Dostoevsky has given me a much needed reminder.
Thank you Sam for another brilliant breaching into the core of conscience ! I felt fear as your tale began slowly exposing my own inner dread, that the life clock in my brain was continually adjusting its speed, sometimes faster, sometimes slower, but that no matter what happens in the end I will arrive at exactly where I am supposed to be, when it's time.
I had that thought, and then I realized; the thought had me.
This is so good. It lives in each of us, or those willing to listen the voices and their message. That is one of the wonders of Dostoevsky. He puts words to immortally human thoughts. Dark, yes, but only so that we might see the light. Thank you Robert.
You're motivating me to finally pick up Dostoevsky again man, that's beautiful! I get lost in meaningless "busy" work way too often, it's time to let some idiocy take over again.
I'm in the same boat, Kai. I think all of us are accept the "idiots". Enjoy digging back into him, rereading seems to reveal even more depth if that's possible.
I read a book once about extreme sport athletes. Big wave surfers, white water kayakers, free climbers, base jumpers, big mountain skiers, the kinds of people doing activities that normal people consider "crazy." The universal draw of these people to their activities wasn't that they had a "death wish" but that they had a "life wish." They believed that the closer to death they came, the more alive they felt. They were chasing that higher level of consciousness, the flow, that came to them when every little thing they did mattered to keeping them alive. Maybe this is the same level of consciousness Dostoyevsky's condemned man was feeling?
Unfortunately, I don’t recall the title. It was decades ago when I read it in University. The book was an effort to identify the psychology of extreme athletes. It had a picture of a whitewater kayaker on the cover. I imagine there are more on this topic today with the explosion of these sports. I would definitely include combat soldiers and fighters of all kinds in this group of those doing or willing to do what “normies” consider crazy in search of life’s fullest meaning.
Solid piece; thank you. In addition to reading about the "idiot" in The Idiot (which I'm reading presently, and why your piece caught my attention), one would be well-advised to read Don Quixote and Chesterton's Manalive, a story which revolves around yet another Holy Fool, Innocent Smith. We, of course, emulate that which we admire; and at this stage in the game of life, I'm endeavoring, mightily — and most imperfectly — to emulate such as these within the circumstanes of my life, temperment, gifts, abilities, and so forth and so on. Peace
Savor every moment of The Idiot. Truly remarkable novel. I’ve read Don Quixote but never Manalive, I’ll dig into this. Godspeed with the fight—it is a good one.
Thank you for follow-up. Still getting oriented to this platform. Such an amazing cross-section of humanity to be found here. Fascinating, truly. Merry Christmas to you and yours, as well as a safe and joyous New Year's. Peace
Watching my son grow has been my firing squad, hammer blow realizations that my moments with him are fleeting.
The first one came very, very late.
He is 3 years old at the beach, perfectly rested, happy and content. I will never experience this exact set of circumstances again. In an hour he may be cranky, a single grain of sand behind his knee causing an entire mood shift. It is beyond my power to manufacture another moment like this, and so I must accept the next perfection in whatever form it takes, and again, and again, and again…
My life before this moment is a blur.
My life after is more clarified at the edges, the picture coming into focus more and more often as I learn how to manipulate the rabbit ears at the top of my brain.
This piece is a welcome challenge to keep tuning in.
This is an epic scene, Tim, thank you for sharing. I find it interesting how your perception of time changed after that moment. This might make for the basis of a powerful piece, one your son might enjoy reading someday.
Great highlights, Sam. Stringing together moments of true attention is the goal. How can that presence become a habit? There's some beauty in boredom, but where's the line between embracing that boredom and giving up? An excuse to sleepwalk? It's a little heady, but I'm starting to think that listening to our soul (not in the religious sense, but a spiritual one) is what provides that guidance. My theory is that doing so is one of the most significant challenges we face as individuals.
As far as I remember, Dostoyevsky uses the word " idiot" to describe someone naïve, earnest, and uncorrupted by self-deception. No so much an idiot as the voice of consciousness, I suppose. But that's why he's one of the greatest writers. Hard to read for people who don't like to think.
Thanks John. Dostoevsky's point is that only an "idiot" would actually live in a grateful way at all times. So in order to slow down and appreciate life we have to make ourselves into idiots.
Beginner for sure. Dostoevsky was trying to create a Christ-like figure with Myshkin. An absolute beginner at all times, innocent, willing to learn, caring, present. And then Dostoevsky takes it a dark path (typical) but the point stands. Thanks for dropping this here.
Each moment I push aside worry, self-doubt and revisiting the past, or other useless trunks of baggage, in favor of whatever aliveness I can experience in this second...is ...a gift. Surfing on a wave of your writing, thought. Thank you!
As one closes in on the age of 70, the thoughts of what one has accomplished and hopes to still accomplish become more focused. One can look back and surmise there was a lot of wasted time. But, equally were there the five minute intervals, the birth of a child, nothing like the last five minutes before the child arrives head first into the world in the delivery room for the concerned observer, now a father. That brings some clarity. Not the same as missing an IED pressure plate but it brings clarity. Taylor Sheridan has just released the second season of Landman. Sam Elliot returns to Sheridan’s world of wonder writing and does not disappoint in the first of his many scenes that will be coming. It is compelling and topical to your post today. His last stab with Sheridan in “1883” would have won him an Oscar for best supporting actor if “1883” had been a Hollywood movie. His character In Landman, is a bit like the Idiot is facing the slow firing squad of a declining life in an assisted living facility, something some of us have watched a parent live through and then die in that environment. Dementia is a one man firing squad, and the marksman sucks at his trade, wounding with every shot, but never a kill shot. The person being executed in this manner finally just bleeds out. Like the birth of a child one learns to take the minutes with more reverence and perhaps more calculation. Now in my case, being an idiot feels natural, been one all my life, now that you have brought this into focus (Thanks a lot Sam!) today is now going to be chopped up into as many five minutes pieces as possible. And as it is in rowing, I am hoping for 10 perfect strokes in a row, or just one really meaningful 5 minute effort worthy of a man about to be executed. Neither is likely to happen, but that is why we get up every day and try. As TS Eliot reminds “for us there is only the trying, the rest is not our business….”
Eliot is on my shelf and I can't wait to dig in. I appreciate it Charles, as well as the intensity of your awareness of time. It is something I am becoming increasingly aware of, and with some heaviness comes much lightness. I don't view death the way I used to and this is something I am writing and thinking about much more often. Thank you for your perspective here.
Tempus Edax Rerum, loosely translated “time destroyer of all things.” Shawdows and dust Maximus we mere mortals are shawdows and dust…Proximo to Maximus in the first Gladiator movie! Has ring to it doesn’t it!!
I’ve spent this year thinking about the continuity of time. What is the connection between the past, present, and future. The modern world teaches us that our individual lives matter more than our collective lives. The man’s five minutes was a feeble, last moment effort to make his life matter. However, if we are serious about our lives, we will realize that the life we have has been given to us, for good or ill, by those who came before us. The lesson to learn is that our lives matter to the generations to follow. The continuity of time is realized by our generational memory. In those five minutes, the man reached for but could not ultimately grasp this truth.
This is very ancestral, pre-modern, and intuitive. There is something to be said for the ancient obsession with knowing your ancestors names, their deeds, and trying to live up to them.
Sam, I am amazed that you pulled out an incident that is only one of so many themes/lessons in “The Idiot”. I think that Dostoyevsky threw this “kitchen sink” at us as a madman would. It is for us to find our “cherry” and chew on it. You found one that you most likely could relate to in your life experience. I keep thinking what it takes for me to break a habit like minimizing small screen time.
It is quite a bitter cherry, among many more bitter ones. I am struck at how positive the Idiot is compared to his other novels, and yet it still manages to be dark—and yet I still love Dostoevsky. The screen time is a legitimate issue, I struggle with the same thing. Dostoevsky has given me a much needed reminder.
If you ever find that answer to minimizing small screen time, please share! Thanks
Thank you Sam for another brilliant breaching into the core of conscience ! I felt fear as your tale began slowly exposing my own inner dread, that the life clock in my brain was continually adjusting its speed, sometimes faster, sometimes slower, but that no matter what happens in the end I will arrive at exactly where I am supposed to be, when it's time.
I had that thought, and then I realized; the thought had me.
This is so good. It lives in each of us, or those willing to listen the voices and their message. That is one of the wonders of Dostoevsky. He puts words to immortally human thoughts. Dark, yes, but only so that we might see the light. Thank you Robert.
You're motivating me to finally pick up Dostoevsky again man, that's beautiful! I get lost in meaningless "busy" work way too often, it's time to let some idiocy take over again.
I'm in the same boat, Kai. I think all of us are accept the "idiots". Enjoy digging back into him, rereading seems to reveal even more depth if that's possible.
Thanks!
I read a book once about extreme sport athletes. Big wave surfers, white water kayakers, free climbers, base jumpers, big mountain skiers, the kinds of people doing activities that normal people consider "crazy." The universal draw of these people to their activities wasn't that they had a "death wish" but that they had a "life wish." They believed that the closer to death they came, the more alive they felt. They were chasing that higher level of consciousness, the flow, that came to them when every little thing they did mattered to keeping them alive. Maybe this is the same level of consciousness Dostoyevsky's condemned man was feeling?
This is fantastic. Do you remember what the book is called? The same phenomenon is found in combat units as well, and to your point, to the condemned.
Unfortunately, I don’t recall the title. It was decades ago when I read it in University. The book was an effort to identify the psychology of extreme athletes. It had a picture of a whitewater kayaker on the cover. I imagine there are more on this topic today with the explosion of these sports. I would definitely include combat soldiers and fighters of all kinds in this group of those doing or willing to do what “normies” consider crazy in search of life’s fullest meaning.
Solid piece; thank you. In addition to reading about the "idiot" in The Idiot (which I'm reading presently, and why your piece caught my attention), one would be well-advised to read Don Quixote and Chesterton's Manalive, a story which revolves around yet another Holy Fool, Innocent Smith. We, of course, emulate that which we admire; and at this stage in the game of life, I'm endeavoring, mightily — and most imperfectly — to emulate such as these within the circumstanes of my life, temperment, gifts, abilities, and so forth and so on. Peace
Savor every moment of The Idiot. Truly remarkable novel. I’ve read Don Quixote but never Manalive, I’ll dig into this. Godspeed with the fight—it is a good one.
Thank you for follow-up. Still getting oriented to this platform. Such an amazing cross-section of humanity to be found here. Fascinating, truly. Merry Christmas to you and yours, as well as a safe and joyous New Year's. Peace
Watching my son grow has been my firing squad, hammer blow realizations that my moments with him are fleeting.
The first one came very, very late.
He is 3 years old at the beach, perfectly rested, happy and content. I will never experience this exact set of circumstances again. In an hour he may be cranky, a single grain of sand behind his knee causing an entire mood shift. It is beyond my power to manufacture another moment like this, and so I must accept the next perfection in whatever form it takes, and again, and again, and again…
My life before this moment is a blur.
My life after is more clarified at the edges, the picture coming into focus more and more often as I learn how to manipulate the rabbit ears at the top of my brain.
This piece is a welcome challenge to keep tuning in.
Thank you.
This is an epic scene, Tim, thank you for sharing. I find it interesting how your perception of time changed after that moment. This might make for the basis of a powerful piece, one your son might enjoy reading someday.
Great highlights, Sam. Stringing together moments of true attention is the goal. How can that presence become a habit? There's some beauty in boredom, but where's the line between embracing that boredom and giving up? An excuse to sleepwalk? It's a little heady, but I'm starting to think that listening to our soul (not in the religious sense, but a spiritual one) is what provides that guidance. My theory is that doing so is one of the most significant challenges we face as individuals.
Agreed wholeheartedly on your last point. Time to dive into that abyss.
As far as I remember, Dostoyevsky uses the word " idiot" to describe someone naïve, earnest, and uncorrupted by self-deception. No so much an idiot as the voice of consciousness, I suppose. But that's why he's one of the greatest writers. Hard to read for people who don't like to think.
Yes his was a beautiful mind. Still just as relevant, actually more so.
Sam, can someone please explain this to me like I'm an idiot. Good writing.
Thanks John. Dostoevsky's point is that only an "idiot" would actually live in a grateful way at all times. So in order to slow down and appreciate life we have to make ourselves into idiots.
Good one, Sam. I like the zen notion of the “beginner’s mind” as a paradigm for taking a fresh look at life in each moment. Memento mori!
Beginner for sure. Dostoevsky was trying to create a Christ-like figure with Myshkin. An absolute beginner at all times, innocent, willing to learn, caring, present. And then Dostoevsky takes it a dark path (typical) but the point stands. Thanks for dropping this here.
I waste so many mintues it's disgusting. It's ironic how much we justify it too.
It's literally insane. Everyday I try to do a quick mental audit and utter a few harsh words. It is a great path to humility.
This might also be how you would live if you were sure you were going to die unless you change the story. I call it editing.
I have to chew on this thought because my sense is it could be taken many different ways. I'm curious, can you elaborate?
Each moment I push aside worry, self-doubt and revisiting the past, or other useless trunks of baggage, in favor of whatever aliveness I can experience in this second...is ...a gift. Surfing on a wave of your writing, thought. Thank you!
Thank you Anthony. There is quite a bit of our friend Epictetus in this theme.
As one closes in on the age of 70, the thoughts of what one has accomplished and hopes to still accomplish become more focused. One can look back and surmise there was a lot of wasted time. But, equally were there the five minute intervals, the birth of a child, nothing like the last five minutes before the child arrives head first into the world in the delivery room for the concerned observer, now a father. That brings some clarity. Not the same as missing an IED pressure plate but it brings clarity. Taylor Sheridan has just released the second season of Landman. Sam Elliot returns to Sheridan’s world of wonder writing and does not disappoint in the first of his many scenes that will be coming. It is compelling and topical to your post today. His last stab with Sheridan in “1883” would have won him an Oscar for best supporting actor if “1883” had been a Hollywood movie. His character In Landman, is a bit like the Idiot is facing the slow firing squad of a declining life in an assisted living facility, something some of us have watched a parent live through and then die in that environment. Dementia is a one man firing squad, and the marksman sucks at his trade, wounding with every shot, but never a kill shot. The person being executed in this manner finally just bleeds out. Like the birth of a child one learns to take the minutes with more reverence and perhaps more calculation. Now in my case, being an idiot feels natural, been one all my life, now that you have brought this into focus (Thanks a lot Sam!) today is now going to be chopped up into as many five minutes pieces as possible. And as it is in rowing, I am hoping for 10 perfect strokes in a row, or just one really meaningful 5 minute effort worthy of a man about to be executed. Neither is likely to happen, but that is why we get up every day and try. As TS Eliot reminds “for us there is only the trying, the rest is not our business….”
Eliot is on my shelf and I can't wait to dig in. I appreciate it Charles, as well as the intensity of your awareness of time. It is something I am becoming increasingly aware of, and with some heaviness comes much lightness. I don't view death the way I used to and this is something I am writing and thinking about much more often. Thank you for your perspective here.
Tempus Edax Rerum, loosely translated “time destroyer of all things.” Shawdows and dust Maximus we mere mortals are shawdows and dust…Proximo to Maximus in the first Gladiator movie! Has ring to it doesn’t it!!
I have an essay teed up for shadows and dust! I'm just waiting for the right context to root it. Few lines in movie history have struck like that one.