War and Peace is notorious for its length and complexity. And, like other things of such reputation, a golden badge is given to those who dare face it. This idolization did not spare me, contributing to years of procrastination and guilt. War and Peace became the mess under my bed: I knew it was there but was too fearful of handling it—until I did. Five months later, I am delighted to call it my companion. I expanded my knowledge of history, went through ineffable moments of enlightenment, and acquired life lessons.
Lesson #1: Patience Leads to Prosperity
I was the mountaineer watching the summit from the base of Mount Everest, where a fog of reverence and awe shrouded me. Finishing the day with unnoticeable progress was excruciating, resulting in haste. I started to skim pages, barely reading the words, as if the goal was to move my finger across every line. Eventually, I burnt out; there was no joy in reading, and incompetence superseded guilt. I felt like a failure—this was not a trial for finishing a novel, but for my life. I questioned my purpose for this undertaking and the portion my ego had in it. As I gradually examined my vanity, the storm cleared out.
I had to tread the line of pace, mindfulness, and humility. The thought of what was left was crippling. I had to focus on the subsequent page, the following line, the next word—I had to learn patience. Like meditation, I noticed my eagerness and returned to the present. Steadily, the story unfolded and the captivating world of Tolstoy came to life. Before I knew it, I read the last page.
Lesson #2: Where Thought Meets Action
Tolstoy criticizes two groups: the aristocracy and the leadership. Although each represents an opposite side of the spectrum, both sprout from the same place: lack of perspective and character. The nobility, gathering in fancy lounges, regard the war as a game: conversing and judging—they do not affect reality. On the other hand, the authoritarians are portrayed as children who stumbled into power; they perform horrifying actions based on haste, irritation, pertinence, and boredom—their lack of thought terrorizes reality. This dichotomy is a lesson to us all.
We ought to find the balance between pondering and acting. To reach an authentic and fulfilled place, we must constantly re-evaluate, followed by movement; otherwise, we risk stagnating or muddling. By knowing ourselves, we notice what we lack. In my case, I need to be more proactive, as I often recede into rumination and anxiety; taking action, although arduous, is my panacea.
Lesson #3: Honor Is an Illusion
Tolstoy enquires on the rationale of war: what causes legions of man to set out to slaughter their brothers? He argues the logic of historians is awry—propagation of ideas or disputes between leaders cannot explain the movements of a nation and its population—those are the evident motives but not the real ones. The truth lies in the construction of societies. National hierarchies and our place within them seem natural: when the leader demands us to leave our life, job, and family and risk our lives sinning, we do not question it. Decorating humans with medallions or ranks for bloodshed has become the norm—and society appreciates it.
Thus born the notions of patriotism and honor. The social value of chauvinism plays on our psychology: heroism for the country is associated with glory, admiration, and love. In the novel, many characters initially seek honor and noble death. Eventually, after encountering the frightening and humane faces of the enemy, they are torn between their empathy and the collective, indescribable force of allegiance.
History is filled with illogical massacres in the name of peace and love: from the Crusaders, who spread Jesus’s “love” by murdering those who did not Christianize, to Napoleon, who conquered for the motto of liberty, equality, and fraternity, executing the opposers. To perfect one’s soul, one must act out love for his fellow humans, including himself. The cultivation of oneness is vital for the creation of heaven.
Lesson #4: Perfection Does Not Exist; We Should Pursue Acceptance
In which manner should we forge ourselves? What should we aim for? “Perfection,” the world replies. Humans always strove for perfection—it is closely linked to god and immortality, thus a perfect way to deny death.
Today this notion is more prominent than ever: our value is linked to our hierarchal success, and perfection seems like the norm, causing us to feel inferior if we are not there. We usually react in one of two manners: the first, we work endlessly to gain achievement and status but never feel content; the second, we flood ourselves with pleasure and menial work, we do not try because we are afraid to fail, and we intentionally drop perspective over life. Both sound terrible, yet most of us dwell on either one—luckily, there is a third way.
Since contentment cannot come from a mindset of deficiency, and perfection, by its nature, cannot be achieved, we must let go of that idea. The third way constitutes accepting things as they are: we can only be perfect at being ourselves, with our flaws and strengths. Acceptance is no excuse for being lazy or passive, but to detach our value from our societal success, to play our own game. We open the door to kindness, compassion, passion, and love. Instead of trying to reach the horizon, we steer toward it.