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| Heyo, Nik here! Since starting a full-time job in January, I've had less time to read and summarize as many books as I used to. But I still want to capture the ones that make a big impact on me in a meaningful way. With Steppenwolf, first published by German writer and philosopher Hermann Hesse in 1927, it took me almost a year, but I finally did it! This essay is a bit longer and less simplistic than the usual summary format, but I hope you'll still like it. I do think the form offers a chance to resonate more deeply with the book than a quick summary or review. If you do connect with the piece, please give the book a try. You can read the entire article right below in this email or on my blog. If you'd like to share your thoughts with me, don't hesitate to hit reply! Here we go! The 3 Shades of EternityLessons about time, life, and happiness from Hermann Hesse's SteppenwolfThe German word "Steppenwolf" describes a kind of wolfhound, half wild animal, half domesticated pet. In Hermann Hesse's 1927 novel of the same name, protagonist Harry Haller claims to be a specimen of this very variety, forever torn between an idealistic life outside society's expectations and the comfort of hiding his values in plain sight. If he could find the courage, Harry would write his soul out, live like a monk, or die on some principled hill, perhaps even literally. But he can't, and so he resigns himself to only letting his lofty ideals shine through on occasion. While drinking with people at the pub, for example. Or when discussing politics over dinner. Or as he goes through any of the many humdrum, mundane repetitions of life most of us are bound to as well. Of all the books I've read in the last 12 months, this nearly 100-year-old one has left the biggest mark on my soul. One lesson in particular stuck with me, and it starts taking shape when Harry notices an embellished painting of Johann Wolfgang von Goethe during a visit to an old friend's house. Harry adores Goethe, a great of German literature, but he despises the stylized, framed icon sitting on a small round table like a piece of decoration. So much so, in fact, that by the time the after-dessert-drinks roll around, he starts arguing with his hosts about it until his only escape seems to be running out the door — which he promptly does. Later, Goethe visits Harry in a dream only to tease him about his snobby attitude earlier that night. Goethe playfully evades Harry's questions about morality, dances, and even pranks him by holding a live scorpion in front of his face. Eventually, he claims that "eternity is but a moment, just long enough for a joke" and fades into darkness with "a still and soundless laughter that shook him to the depths with an abysmal old-man's humor." I didn't understand these words at first, and, like most of the action in the book, none of it seemed to make sense in the moment. But I did notice later on that both eternity and eerie laughter became recurring themes. As antihero Harry's identity crisis continues to unfold, he makes a new friend, Hermine, an androgynous young lady who seems to possess all the wisdom a man of Haller's age — he's nearing 50 — should already have. Hermine, too, talks about eternity, and her take sheds a tiny bit of light on Goethe's ominous claim. To Hermine, eternity is "the realm of the real," concerning such timeless human feats as the music of Mozart, the poems of the ancient Greeks and, yes, Goethe, as well as the religious saints who became great role models for their fellow men and women. "But eternity also includes the image of every real deed," she says, "the strength of every real emotion, even if no one knows about it and sees it and writes it down for posterity. In eternity, there is no posterity, only the contemporary." Though helpful at first, Hermine, too, quickly begins to sound mysterious and vague. For every explanation, Harry finds he now has two new questions. So did I. Ultimately, it takes the aforementioned Mozart himself in yet another vision at the end of the novel to break the book's message down fully — though still not 100% clearly — for Harry's wolf-ridden mind and heart. Naturally, Mozart, too, leaves "a terrible laughter" echoing behind Harry after he vanishes. As you can perhaps tell by now, Steppenwolf is not a book you read and understand. It's a book you let wash over you and wait to see what happens. Sure, there might be some learning at an intellectual level, but it's really when the flow of Hesse's beautiful words just somehow, inexplicably clicks in your soul that the magic truly unfolds. That clicking can happen while you read, or it can happen a long time afterwards. For me, it did both. It's been almost a year since I read the book, yet it never leaves my mind for too long. Eternity and laughter. These two themes keep nagging at me. So far in my reflections, I've come to the conclusion that Harry's friends are essentially drawing a map for him — a philosophical map of life where the marked destination is happiness. I've spent much time trying to trace the outlines of that map for myself. Without spoiling too much of the magic, here's my attempt at sharing it with you. The 3 Shades of EternitySteppenwolf touches on many themes. War, culture, spirituality, identity, addiction, religion, sex, mindfulness, depression—it's an incredibly open-minded book for its time. But perhaps the most important idea it wrestles with is the flow of time itself, and how we, as perishable humans, can find our place in it. Initially, Harry is not sure he wants to. He considers, even romanticizes the idea of suicide. By the end of the book, however, his friends have taught him that life can be worth living, no matter how imperfectly, for many different reasons. One way Harry's friends educate him is by redefining the concept of eternity for him. They illustrate "forever" in three different shades, and those shades become a great source of comfort for Harry. May they yet do the same for you and I. 1. Liberating Insignificance"What does it matter?" That's the first question Harry's unlikely friends Goethe, Hermine, and Mozart ask him in various forms. Who cares if you look silly to other people? Don't philosophize all day long or drown in self-pity. Why worry about what'll happen once you try a new experience you're curious about? Compared to the age of history, the age of Earth, the age of the universe, we are but grains of dust in the desert. Most likely, nothing we do will ever matter, and even if it does — what are 500 years of remembering Shakespeare against millions of years of his nonexistence? And if nothing has any meaning, why not pretend it's all a joke? To get him out of his rut, Harry's friends encourage him to let loose, care a little less, and stop overthinking everything. That's good advice for all of us. Don't take your life and yourself so seriously. Have fun. Be spontaneous. Enjoy your insignificance. This is the first way to look at eternity. 2. Empowering SignificanceGoing back to Hermine's little speech, despite nothing mattering, everything is indelible. Even the tiniest action counts. When you stroke your partner's cheek, that's real. When you eat a piece of fish, that's real. And when you get emotional while looking at a painting, that, too, is real. Everything you do, feel, and experience is definitive, and it will all become an infinitesimally small part of that gargantuan, overwhelming tapestry that is eternity. Time weaves into history, and that thread keeps spinning forever. So, in another light, everything has meaning, and you should act accordingly. Respect and appreciate each day, for no matter how mundane or seemingly meaningless, every single one is a chance to connect with life in a way that lasts. That's the second interpretation of eternity. 3. Transcending PresenceTogether, the first and second definition of eternity create a big paradox. If both everything and nothing we do becomes a part of forever, how are we to live? And if the idea is to draw inner strength from both sources, which perspective do we need when? After much deliberation and confusion, Harry eventually realizes what his dream visit from Goethe was really about. It wasn't an old man laughing at a broken, depressed individual. Just an enlightened being pointing the way to inner peace. Here's my translation attempt from the original German: It was without object, [Goethe's] laughter. It was only light, only brightness, was that which remains when a real human has passed through the suffering, the vices, the errors, desires, and misunderstandings of humans and made it to eternity, to space. And eternity was nothing more than the salvation of time, was in a way its return to innocence, its reconversion into space. I still remember lying in bed at night, reading these words. I didn't understand them, but after spending 200 pages with Harry and his story, I also kind of did. I felt them, and, for the moment, that was enough. I immediately highlighted the passage. The next morning, I learned it by heart. I didn't know why, but I knew it was important. And thus began many months of reflection. Looking back now, I can see how my captivation with Harry's realization mirrors its actual message: Live in the present. Give yourself fully to every moment, because in an existence where time tries to squeeze us from either end, with both crushing pressure and debilitating meaninglessness, the one path forward is to transcend time by surrendering to it. Only once we relinquish control will we truly be free. If I hadn't been fully immersed in the book, I never would have learned this lesson. I was perfectly in sync with reality, and that's why I seemed to be in the right place at the right time. Living consciously makes life feel worth living, not the other way around. There's no hidden meaning to dig up before you're allowed to feel happy. You enjoy the present through your deliberate attention, and the meaning will inevitably follow. Staying present is also in line with both of the first two shades of eternity, but it moves past their limitations at the same time. After all, you're only focusing on right now, and the stakes of any given moment are low in the grand scheme of things. Yet, in giving all your attention to what's going on right in front of you, you also treat life with the seriousness it deserves. Plus, since you're busy being present, you won't worry about the long-term implications of either approach. When you're mindful, you'll laugh at life's silliness most of the time, but you also won't hold anything back when something is important to you. Live honestly, fully, but never anywhere except the present moment. That way, whether your impact lasts a second or a century, you'll always play with integrity. You'll become eternity itself. That, I believe, is the ultimate lesson we can learn from Steppenwolf. Harry Haller. Hermann Hesse. Notice something? The author and his protagonist share the same initials. That isn't a coincidence. Steppenwolf is a deeply autobiographical novel, based on Hesse's own life situation, marital struggles, and challenges with meaning at the time. If you've read this far, chances are, you, too, are a Steppenwolf. There's the you that goes to work and cleans the sink and pays the bills; the you that does all the things your friends, family, and society expect you to do. But there's also another you, another you deep inside, and it keeps scratching, scratching at all the surface-level stuff we call "living," desperate, hoping, yearning for something more. I don't know what that "more" is for you, let alone alone where it lies. I don't know if any of us will ever find it. But I know that people like Hermann Hesse, the kind of people who write the kind of books like Steppenwolf, they all felt that same force, that mysterious, inexplicable gravitational pull towards a destined yet completely unknown future. So when I read those books, I don't feel alone. I feel connected. Quiet. Seeking yet somehow still satisfied. My inner wolf isn't howling — he's laughing. "The laughter of the immortals," as Harry comes to call it. An innocent, childlike, wholehearted laughter from deep within. A laughter that's not directed at someone but at the joy of life itself. After recognizing it for what it is, whenever he hears this laughter throughout the book, be it from one of his idols in a dream or from himself in a strange situation he takes with surprising ease, Harry remembers: Eternity is but a moment, just long enough for a joke — and perhaps that's all we need for a lifetime of happiness. Your email friend, PS: If you liked this piece, would you mind sharing it with a friend? You can just forward them this email—or copy and paste this link: https://nik.art/the-3-shades-of-eternity/ Thank you! PPS: If the piece has piqued your interest, and you'd like to read the book, I recommend the German version if you speak the language—but if not, this Penguin Classics version seems like a great translation from what I've read thus far! |
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