Within your soul a world
(The scene cut from Diamonds)
“Physics is a derivative of the geometry of space,” said Oleg. “Bartini has showed it in 1964 already.”
“Oh, my dear friend,” Alexey chuckled, “you still hope that science will find answers to the most important questions.”
“Of course,” Oleg did not give up easily. “What else can? Religion?”
“Well, there are many other areas of human activity besides religion and science.”
“Art?” This time Oleg was already smiling. “Music?”
“They too, but only partially.”
“What then?”
“Answer yourself. Who always tries to cut straight into the core of the problem breaking away from the limitations of science and religion?”
Oleg paused, thinking.
“Writers?” He offered finally.
“Yes, old man! Writers and poets! The latter do it even more often than the former.
“Your favorite horse, again.”
“No, my learned friend, poetry is not a horse. This beast is more powerful.”
“Your powerful beast did not make anyone happy yet.”
“And why do you assume that answers to burning human questions should make anybody happy? With much wisdom comes much sorrow. Even atheists know that.
“Then show me an example,” Oleg pressed. “Read me a verse so that I understand something I was not able to understand before.”
“Okey, here is one from Tyutchev,” Alexey said and recited:
If only single sole has showed
Its understanding of your thought,
Be happy for what was bestowed –
That is enough, that is a lot…
“Are you saying that all we need is to be understood? Even if this understanding does not correspond to reality?”
“Understanding is also reality.”
Oleg thought about it.
“And if no one understands you, then what?” He asked.
“Then you were never realized. As if you have never lived. But if you have written something, then there is still a hope that you will be understood and realized in the future.”
“And what about other human activities? Waste of time, in your opinion?
“Yes, if they want to understand and be understood. People lie to themselves because it’s very difficult to face the reality and see it as it is, not as you would like it to be. They live in a made up reality – comfortable, harmonious, in accordance with their ideas. In such reality, mind you, you look very good. You look great. The best.”
Nobody talked for a minute, thinking.
“Even the most wise folks were not sure,” Alexey added. “The same Tyutchev wrote at another time
Live in your inner self alone
within your soul a world has grown,
the magic of veiled thoughts that might
be blinded by the outer light,
drowned in the noise of day, unheard…
take in their song and speak no word.
[Translated by V.Nabokov]
It hurts to speak out and find no understanding.”
“If everyone writes poetry, there will be no one to grow bread.”
“No, Oleg, it is impossible to write poetry all the time. If you do not live a real earthly life, then there will be nothing to write about.”
“That is, you invite everyone to write poetry in their free time, don’t you?”
“Well, perhaps, so. Yehh, it would be nice if everyone looked around, at themselves too, thought a bit, and then tried to express their thoughts in verse,” Alexey said longingly.
“Or in painting,” Oleg added, “or music.”
“Or even in prose, after all.”
“It just means that you would like everbody be educated and versed in art,” Oleg concluded.
“And why not? That would be very nice.”
“But education imposes a certain vision of the world on people, does not it?”
Alexey thought a moment, then smiled and slapped Oleg on the shoulder:
“That’s why I love talking to you, old man! You help me organize my thoughts. Now, allow me rephrase. Everyone should be educated. But one has to express their inner self in verse, prose, or any other form of art in order to avoid just repeating whatever other people or professors say. How does it seem to you?”
“Not bad,” Oleg agreed. “Just one practical remark: we are already trying to do this and have achieved a lot, as you can see.”
“Yes,” Alexey sighed, “I see. You are such a bore, my friend. You bring everything down to the mundane truth. You do not allow your thoughts fly high into the sky.”
“Such thoughts are just fantasy, detached from reality, while you were trying to talk the science down and enhance it with art.”
“Yahh,” Alexey sighed again. “You are correct. I did. Art and science are complimentary. That’s it.”