Personal Commonplace Entry: Thoughts on the Underground

Personal Commonplace Entry: Thoughts on the Underground

Originally Written: Tues. March 14, ’23–12:50 PM

“Who can be vain of his disease, still less swagger with it? Why do I say that, though? Everybody does it — we all show off with our diseases, and I, perhaps, more than anybody.”

- Fyodor Dostoyevsky, Notes from the Underground

I recently began reading “Notes from the Underground” by Fyodor Dostoyevsky. At first, the ambiguity and bizarre nature of the text struck me as odd. However, I’m not entirely sure I fully grasp his intention yet, but I felt a strange connection to his nameless narrator. More and more, I find myself empathizing with some of the expressions conveyed- even recalling particular experiences from my past. I would like to note some of my thoughts regarding what I read within the first five pages:

1. Ignorance truly may be bliss. The more we know and become consciously aware of, the more are we to be held accountable by ourselves and the society around us. However, I think that ignorance can only be perceived as blissful on behalf of the ignorant individual. For if a man is ignorant, he surely knows not that his ignorance lightens his accountability in such a way that is similar to the innocence of a child. I assert this in a very generalized sense, of course, as I still firmly believe that all men, after a certain point in life, have a duty to mature and step into the role of leadership and responsibility. Furthermore, is a man not more pleased to achieve a state of consciousness and enlightenment? I, for one, would much prefer the responsibility and expectations that come with awareness and intelligence over returning to a deficient mind to simply lift some of the innate stress that resides within accountability. Though, admittedly, part of my reasoning for that is attributable to a sort of vanity.
2. I often tend to reflect on myself as more clever than anyone else around me. Of course, I know that this cannot possibly be the case, in reality. Much of me, in fact, is a testament to my being a walking, breathing contradiction. As one could imagine, this breeds a very strong internal conflict and division within myself. Indeed, much of me is torn into two by contradictions with respect to who I am, yet I am still, nonetheless, at peace nowadays. I would be lying if I said I fully understood myself. It does bring consolation knowing that I am not alone in this, though, as no man can ever fully know himself. Perhaps I may look forward with excitement to unraveling more of my internal mystery of self as my journey and time progress. For now, at least, I shall be content with the ever-changing present degree of intellect and self-awareness that I possess; and simply understand that not only is this a lifelong process, but that I will also often arrive at more questions than definitive answers.

A Portrait of Fyodor Dostoyevsky by K. Hinchey