#crazytiming

[seajaysea]

So, this just happened @itswilwheaton #3percent #crazytiming #mustchargephone

[betterelisa]

Holy Dostoevsky!

“Active love? That’s another question, and what a question, what a question! You see, I love mankind so much that—would you believe it?—I sometimes dream of giving up all, all I have, of leaving Lise and going to become a sister of mercy. I close my eyes, I think and dream, and in such moments I feel an invincible strength in myself. No wounds, no festering sores could frighten me. I would bind them and cleanse them with my own hands, I would nurse the suffering, I am ready to kiss those sores ...”

“It’s already a great deal and very well for you that you dream of that in your mind and not of something else. Once in a while, by chance, you may really do some good deed.”

“yes, but could I survive such a life for long? That’s my most tormenting question. I close my eyes and ask myself: could you stand it for long on such a path? And if the sick man whose sores you are cleansing does not respond immediately with gratitude but on the contrary, begins tormenting you with his whims, not appreciating and not noticing your philanthropic ministry, and if he begins to shout at you, to make rude demands, even to complain to some sort of superiors (as often happens with people who are in pain)–what then? Will you go on loving, or not? 

And imagine, the answer already came to me with a shudder: if there’s anything that would immediately cool my ‘active’ love for mankind, that one thing is ingratitude. In short, I work for pay and demand my pay at once, that is, praise and return of love for my love. Otherwise I’m unable to love anyone!”

I started reading Dostoevsky’s “The Brothers Karamazov” last week, having been curious of my good friend’s LoL handle that features the novel’s hero character. 

These sentences from the book jumped out at me immediately - and I’ve not gotten my head around it, to know where I stand. It’s just nice to know that it’s not only me who feels this way; that the need for gratitude for all services given is indeed part of human nature.

Sometimes I feel like I am surrounded by people with this kind of active love - the kind of love I cannot even fathom, let alone consider giving. If I can never do this for my father, what are the chances I could ever do so for a husband? for a friend? for strangers? How can I ever be the kind of person I’d like to be?

I hope as I read further into this book, Dostoevsky can begin to unravel this mystery for me. I really am counting on it.