Dmitry Vodennikov Lights Below On the fact that not all writers are from this world 18.03.2023, 08:05

Both had to live in an age of disasters. And for their homeland, for themselves and for the whole world. All worlds were dying before their eyes and new ones were being created. People broke with each other the old ties that seemed impossible to break (but it was possible).

Although this is what Berdyaev says (and in his new version it is immediately clear why the motherland does not tolerate him at home, not putting him on a “philosophical steamboat”), that creativity is just a vacuum, but not in a family, but only in the gospel sense: neither “the world” nor and to love what is “in the world”.

He wrote: “The Creator feels that he is not of this world.” (…) In the act of creation, man leaves “this world” and moves on to another world. In creative action, “this world” is not ordered, but another world, a real cosmos, is created.

He also thought that a higher power was holding him, not letting him die.

“I survived three wars, two of which could be called world wars, two revolutions, small and large, in Russia, experienced a spiritual renaissance at the beginning of the 20th century, followed by Russian communism, a crisis in world culture, a coup d’etat in Germany, the collapse of France and the victors. I survived the invasion, exile, and my exile is not over. I suffered a terrible war against Russia. And I still do not know how the riots in the world will end. It was too much for a philosopher: I was imprisoned four times, twice under the old regime and twice under the new regime, exiled to the north for three years, undergoing a process that threatened me with eternal settlement in Siberia, expelled from my homeland, and possibly end my life in exile. I will give.”

And so it happened. Nikolai Berdyaev died at his desk while working in France, which protected him. Probably an easy death. Maybe he didn’t even understand.

And here comes a poorly dressed woman, no job, just extra money in the theater. He did not leave Russia anywhere and did not think much of it.

This woman was once a famous writer, and even here, thank God, she only got paid for the first edition.

He once wrote (oh, how she was later scolded for this: “rudeness”, “crying”, “all this Lilechki and Lyalechki”, even scolded for patriotism and Russian chauvinism, and where did they find her?): “The princess is dead, but her memory is not dead The king stopped wars and raids, dispersed troops, opened prisons and dungeons and released exhausted prisoners, and all this in memory of his daughter Arzu … Mercy and peace reigned in the country.

Well, according to Berdyaev, Lydia Charskaya was greatly mistaken: mercy and peace reigned neither in this country, nor in any other country.

But there is something in them that unites them, very different, of course indifferent to each other (where is the children’s emotional writer and philosopher of religion?). And this is something – not just on March 18, the day when one died in 1937 and the other was born – moreover, he was born even when this day, according to the old style, was marked differently.

It’s ridiculous to say, but there is something in Charskaya’s books that Berdyaev also talks about, of course, on a completely different level.

Both there and there is a thought (in the case of Charskaya – a plot) associated with the archetypal myth of initiation. Researchers wrote about it. Mumbling things, emotionalizing with sweet nonsense and stumble upon, perhaps a teenage girl during her childhood funny “sufferings” for us, and even (again funny) through her symbolic “death” (oh, what did they know about someone’s imminent and not? at least a symbolic one). imminent death) enters the adult world.

There is always a mentor (in the case of Berdyaev, this is God’s thought) and an older friend (the interlocutor Berdyaev probably thinks about often), and then the Christian ministry begins – yes, even “girly” furnished , exalted : as a rule , this is a visit to the emperor’s gym. But he is God’s anointed.

We’ll find this later in Gaidar as well – the same theme of the elder (father in his case), the same “suffering” of Chuk and Gek, the shimmering, almost dreamlike texture of “Drummer’s Fate”.

“We fly to Moscow at dusk. I’m looking forward to the uncertainty
outlines of this mighty city. The fires are already blazing.
And all of a sudden I wanted to find that light from here, from above, from the lantern.
mine shining at night from the windows of our unhappy apartment
now is where Valentine and our grief are born and follow us.
I’m talking about this to my father. He leans towards the window.
But every moment more lights are on. Them
straight streets, curved lines, wide
rings. And now they were bubbling below like a flame. there are many, all
millions! And they were smashed into the darkness by new and new thousands.
And among them it was impossible to find a small flashlight … and it is not necessary! ”
How did they fit in here? And it’s clear that Gaidar is a really great writer, and Charskaya isn’t even trying to reach that title. Berdyaev is a complex philosopher of religion and savage and alien to Gaidar.
But they are writing about something.
And this is the most surprising thing.
Because real writing cannot be demonic in nature, where you cannot stop the moment the text (God, mission, sound) passes through it. It’s always a way out of the dark.

“The diabolical evil of human nature burns in creative ecstasy, transforms into another being. Because every evil is chained to this “world”, its passions and its weight. Creative ascension sheds the weight of this “world” and transforms passion into a different being. Satan is not able to create, and everything that comes from him is uncreative. Satan lies, steals from Allah and caricatures whatever he does.

That’s what Berdyaev said.

Soviet schoolchildren felt the same when they read the “forbidden” Charskaya in their childhood, looked at their private home libraries.
The little light of his prose resonated with the dark flame of Arkady Gaidar, who, as a distinguished writer, was awarded and awarded the Order of the Badge of Honor for his literary activity, which we should all still read again.

And above the two of them – not to love them, and perhaps even not to know them – floats a cloud called “Berdyaev”.
“… The cult of holiness must be supported by the cult of genius, because on the path of genius self-sacrificing success is achieved, and the creative enthusiasms on this path are no less pious than the enthusiasms of holiness. (…) Not only holiness, but also genius is the way. And if genius is not given to all, then holiness is not given to all. The potential of genius as well as the potential of divinity is in every image and image of God.
We are fascinated when we look at someone else’s text.
Something we haven’t been able to name yet is trembling. We are not even sure if evil is calling us there or if good is coming.
But we remember that everything bad burned in a hearth or a huge text fire. Even when we want to say something dark, evil – if a gift lives in the text, it will still “babble” with light and goodness. It won’t happen otherwise.
“I have come,” he says, “to tell you how the forest roars and the river roars, what the nightingale and the spring sing about, to tell you how little queens live and rejoice and suffer, how little fairies have fun.” And I will tell you fairy tales about tough and docile kings, about good sorcerers, about poor and unfortunate people, and much more. And you, the big one, will pass on these tales to the little people…”.

We little people heard you, Lidia Alekseevna.

We all thought that a higher power was protecting us, but everyone was wrong. God (luck, destiny, predestination) has much to do besides us. We’re just little lanterns down there, and it’s absolutely impossible to find a thousandth of that unimaginable height. Or maybe not necessary.