Flight. Paul Mauriat.
Katerina's monologue in Ostrovsky's Drama "The Thunderstorm"
Why don't people fly? ... I say, why do people not fly like birds? You know, sometimes it seems to me that I am a bird. When you stand on a mountain, you are drawn to fly. So I would have scattered, raised my hands and flew. Nothing to try now? ...
And until death I loved to go to church! ... Do you know: on a sunny day, such a light pillar goes down from the dome, and smoke flows in this pillar, like a cloud, and I see it as if the angels in this pillar were flying and singing. .. Or I'll go to the garden early in the morning, as soon as the sun is rising, I'll fall on my knees, I pray and cry, and I myself don't know what I'm praying and what I'm crying ... And what dreams did I dream ... what dreams! Either temples are golden, or some kind of extraordinary gardens, and everyone is singing invisible voices, and it smells of cypress, and the mountains and trees seem to be not the same as usual, but as they are written on images. And the fact that I fly, I fly through the air. And now sometimes I dream, but rarely, and not that. ...
A dream creeps into my head likeoh something. And I will not leave her anywhere. I will think - I will not collect thoughts in any way, I will pray - I will not pray in any way. I babble words with my tongue, but it’s not at all the same on my mind: as if the crafty one was whispering in my ears, but everything about such things is bad. And then it seems to me that I will become ashamed of myself. What happened with me? Before trouble before any of this! At night ... I can't sleep, I still see a whisper of some kind: someone speaks to me so kindly, as if a dove is cooing. I do not dream ... as before, trees of paradise and mountains, but as if someone hugs me so hotly and hotly and leads me somewhere, and I follow him, I go ...
Natasha Rostova's monologue at the window
She (Natasha), apparently, completely leaned out the window, because you could hear the rustle of her dress and even breathing.
Everything was quiet and petrified, like the moon and its light and shadows. Prince Andrew was also afraid to move, so as not to betray his involuntary presence.
- Well, how can you sleep! Look, what a charm! Oh, how lovely! ... After all, such a lovely night has never, never happened. ...
No, look what the moon is! .. Oh, how lovely! You come here. Darling, darling, come here. Well, see?
So I would have squatted, like this, I would have grabbed myself under my knees - as tighter as possible, I had to strain, and would fly. Like this!
And life doesn't matterm not to blame -
Her movements are strict
Dictates fate - like the Sonata
Dictates to themes its own lined ...
Over the inevitability of the sunset
The stellar vault will rise with forgiveness ...
And the Moonlight Sonata cries
Dropping into Eternity
k a p l and notes
Katerina: “Why don't people fly like birds? You know, sometimes it seems to me that I am a bird. When you stand on a mountain, you are drawn to fly. So I would have scattered, raised my hands and flew. "
(A. Ostrovsky)
People do not fly like birds, but the dream of flying accompanies mankind from century to century. A person wants to fly himself, physically, for example, with the help of devices that imitate wings. Such a desire arises from the feeling of an inner flight. This is how Ostrovsky's heroine conveys this feeling: when you are standing on a mountain - and so it pulls you to fly!
The human soul rushes to the sky. This is not so much a physical desire, but maybe categorically not a physical one, but a spiritual experience, born of sadness from one's own burden and attachment to the earth. People risk their lives to experience the feeling of flying, but are never completely satisfied with it. Because the desire for spiritual freedom cannot be replaced by an adrenaline rush, although this is a strong emotional experience.
This article is not about those who fly in their dreams or in reality. And about our spiritual flights and about what prevents a person from constantly experiencing that incredible state of spiritual uplift that lifts him to the heights of iman. Why do we fail to constantly be in a state of religious enthusiasm? What prevents you from staying at the height of spirituality permanently?
The answer, oddly enough, is extremely simple: our attachments tie our wings to the ground. Endless worldly pleasures, in addition to pleasantness, carry a danger: if we love them, they can turn into ropes that will tie our spirituality to this dunya and prevent the wings of our soul from spreading. The same ropes are often and not always bustle, everyday life, and chores that do not always carry joy - they can also deprive us of the ability to fly with our souls.
The whole day is like a day: filled with small works
And petty worries.
A string of them past the tired eyes
It will float unnecessarily.
<…>
And by the evening the string will flow away
Your daily worries.
When will the capital look into the frosty darkness?
And midnight will sing, -
And you would be glad to fall asleep, but - a terrible moment!
Among all other thoughts -
The meaninglessness of all matters, the joylessness of comfort
Will come to your mind.
And a quiet longing will squeeze my throat so tenderly:
Neither gasp nor sigh
As if the night had spread a curse on everything,
The devil himself sat on his chest!
<…>
This is roughly how it happens in Blok's poem: the bustle of the day so constrains our spiritual life that it does not just prevent wings from spreading, but presses us to the ground. The poet found an apt comparison: "the devil himself sat on his chest." Something similar happens to us when worldly affairs prevail over us. In fact, this shaitan is riding our thirst for heights.
This does not mean at all that it is necessary to retire completely from human life and become a hermit. There is no monasticism in Islam - it is not prescribed for Muslims. But the ratio between how much place in our heart is occupied by the worldly and the spiritual should be in favor of the latter, like zero to a hundred. Because everyday affairs and our beloved pleasures can be done in such a way that these mundane and habitual actions become an act of worship (ibadat), or, while doing the same, instead of approaching Allah Almighty, we can distance ourselves from Him. It's all about niyata (the intention of the heart) and what our heart is doing during the day. It is not enough just a verbal statement "I live for the sake of Allah", it is not enough to pronounce the memorized sacred formula "Bismillahi Rrahmani Rrahim" before each action. You need to turn your heart to the Creator and focus on Him. Not everyone will be able to achieve such constant concentration, and pronouncing "bismillah ..." reminds and directs our heart in the right direction.
Very often we love a spouse (spouse) for the sake of our beloved, forgetting about love for the sake of Allah, and then this relationship becomes for us the same as a chocolate used to satisfy our nafs. And they can be one of the most worthy ways to love the Supreme Lord and worship Him. Likewise, relations with relatives, work, household chores, the production and raising of offspring, the purchase of housing, favorite hobby, celebrating holidays and overcoming everyday life - all this has two possibilities of implementation.
What we do for the sake of Allah can lift us to unthinkable heights. These actions lead us to spiritual soaring, when we freeze in delight and understand, feel, realize what a miracle it is - faith! This state is easiest for those who have just begun to observe the religion of Allah. The first grief of the neophyte is that this will not be his permanent state. What was mentioned above is gradually beginning to regain its position in the heart of the believer, and the flight is made difficult by the bindings. Keeping and maintaining oneself at the peak of spiritual purity continuously is work. In fact, this is what we have to do hourly while we are alive. Because "we are alive" is a chance.
He fell asleep in the evening
And I woke up in another country.
Nor the cold of the morning
Not a word from a friend
No ladies' roses
Not a futurist manifesto
Nor the poems of a Pushkinian,
No dog barking,
Not the rumble of the cart -
Nothing, nothing
It could not return to the world ...
Probably, few people, at least at some point in their lives, did not ask the question of why people do not fly like birds. Only in childhood this question is most often caused by natural curiosity and the desire to discover something new for oneself. But in adults, it most often occurs in moments of strong emotional excitement, when you just want to take and disappear from the place where you are now. Only now there are no wings ... Prominent minds devoted to the question of why people do not fly, poetry and prose. A vivid example of this is the monologue of Katerina, the main character of A. Ostrovsky's play "The Thunderstorm". What meaning did the desperate woman put into this phrase?
Why don't people fly like birds: is it only Katerina regrets about carefree girlhood?
The play "The Thunderstorm" is deservedly considered one of the most important works of the author. It is all permeated with symbolism. So Katerina's monologue can, of course, be taken literally, thinking that a still young woman simply regrets that the time of carefree youth will not return. But you can reason like this only if you do not read the whole work.
In fact, everything is much deeper! Asking why humans don't fly like birds, Katerina essentially reveals that her soul has lost its power and can no longer soar. If earlier she thanked God, because she had real happiness, simple and artless, today she is not that joyful girl at all. This hurts Katherine so much. It turns out that her world is crumbling!
The young woman says that before prayer and services in the church were happiness for her, she did not notice the time, because her soul and thoughts were pure.
Once in her husband's family, she understands that real life has little to do with her ideals. The husband is weak, the mother-in-law is difficult and not particularly difficult. But she has to adjust and endure ... And then Boris appears in Katerina's life. As a result, the girl becomes even more difficult, because even when it was very difficult for her, she could turn to God, because she did not feel guilty about herself. And now she is deprived of this, because she clearly realizes that her love is sinful.
Interpretation of the heroine's reflections
Here's how to interpret the question of why people don't fly. Katerina's monologue is, in fact, reflections on why a person cannot just go and go where he wants. And with whoever he wants. The girl understands that it is, in principle, not the bonds of marriage that are holding her. And not the opinion of others, but only confusion in her own soul. Therefore, it turns out that the blame for the death of Katerina is not the husband, mother-in-law or lover who has not justified expectations. The reason for everything is an obsolete way of life, a model of upbringing, which was the basis of the life of a young woman, and which she simply had nothing to replace in her heart.
Do our contemporaries ask why people do not fly like birds?
Of course. But it's easier for us in a sense. After all, there are so many different models of behavior and examples of destinies around! Anyone who wants to find an excuse for his desire to "take off" (in other words, to break stereotypes), with a certain effort, will be able to do this without breaking his soul into pieces.
Monologue 1.
Why don't people fly! I say: why do people not fly like birds? You know, sometimes it seems to me that I am a bird. When you stand on woe, so you are drawn to fly. So I would have scattered, raised my hands and flew. Nothing to try now?
How frisky I was! I have wilted completely. Was I that way! I lived, I did not grieve about anything, like a bird in the wild. Mamma doted on me, she dressed me up like a doll, did not force me to work; I do what I want. Do you know how I lived in girls? I'll tell you now. I used to get up early; if in the summer I go to the spring, wash, bring some water with me and water all the flowers in the house. I had many, many flowers. Then we’ll go with mamma to church, everyone and wanderers - our house was full of wanderers and pilgrims. And we will come from church, sit down for some kind of work, more on velvet in gold, and the wanderers will begin to tell where they have been, what they have seen, different lives, or they sing poems. So the time will pass before lunchtime. Here the old women will fall asleep, and I walk in the garden. Then to Vespers, and in the evening again stories and singing. It was so good!
Monologue 2.
Yes, everything here seems to be out of bondage. And until death I loved to go to church! Precisely, I used to go into heaven, and I don’t see anyone, I don’t remember the time, and I don’t hear when the service is over. Exactly how it all happened in one second. Mamma said that everyone used to look at me, what was happening to me! And you know, on a sunny day such a light pillar goes down from the dome, and smoke flows in this pillar, like clouds, and I see it as if angels fly and sing in this pillar. And then, it happened, a girl, I would get up at night - we, too, had lamps lit everywhere - but somewhere in the corner I pray until morning. Or I'll go to the garden early in the morning, as soon as the sun is rising, I'll fall on my knees, pray and cry, and I myself don't know what I'm praying for and what I'm crying about; so they will find me. And what I prayed for then, what I asked, I do not know; I didn’t need anything, I had enough of everything. And what dreams I dreamed, Varenka, what dreams! Or golden temples, or some kind of extraordinary gardens, and everyone sings invisible voices, and smells of cypress, and the mountains and trees seem to be not the same as usual, but like on images are written. And if I fly, I fly through the air. And now sometimes I dream, but rarely, and not that.
Monologue 3.
Where to now? Go home? No, it's all the same for me to go home or to the grave. Yes, what is home, what is to the grave! .. what is to the grave! It's better in the grave ... Under the tree there is a grave ... how good! .. The sun warms it up, wets it with rain ... in the spring the grass will grow on it, so soft ... the birds will fly to the tree, they will sing, the children will be brought out, the flowers will bloom: yellow, red, blue ... all sorts of things ... So quiet, so good! It seems to me easier! And I don’t want to think about life. Live again? No, no, don't ... not good! And people are disgusting to me, and the house is disgusting to me, and the walls are disgusting! I won't go there! No, no, I won't go! You come to them, they go, they say, but what do I need it for? Ah, it got dark! And they are singing again somewhere! What are they singing? You can't tell ... I should die now ... What are they singing? It's all the same that death will come, that it itself ... but you can't live! Sin! Will they not pray? He who loves will pray ... They fold their hands crosswise ... in the coffin! Yes, so ... I remembered. And they will catch me, but they will bring me back home by force ... Ah, hurry, hurry! My friend! My joy! Goodbye!
an excerpt from Ostrovsky's "The Thunderstorm". Believe it or not, I can’t sleep, I began to reread it .. and shed tears again. fuck! either I'm too sentimental because I'm emo, or because I'm going crazy .. I don't even know which is worse)))
The seventh phenomenon
Katerina and Varvara.
Katerina. So you, Varya, feel sorry for me?
Varvara (looking away). Of course, it's a pity.
Katerina. So you love me then? (Kisses hard.)
Barbara. Why shouldn't I love you?
Katerina. Well, thank you! You are such a sweetheart, I myself love you to death.
Silence.
Do you know what came to my mind?
Barbara. What?
Katerina. Why don't people fly?
Barbara. I do not understand what you say.
Katerina. I say, why do people not fly like birds? You know, sometimes it seems to me that I am a bird. When you stand on a mountain, you are drawn to fly. So I would have scattered, raised my hands and flew. Nothing to try now? (He wants to run.)
Barbara. What are you making up something?
KATERINA (sighing). How frisky I was! I have wilted completely.
Barbara. Do you think I can't see?
Katerina. Was I that way! I lived without grieving about anything, like a bird in the wild. Mamma doted on me, she dressed me up like a doll, did not force me to work; I do what I want. Do you know how I lived in girls? I'll tell you now. I used to get up early; if in the summer, I'll go to the spring, wash, bring some water with me, and that's it, I'll water all the flowers in the house. I had a lot of flowers. Then we’ll go with mamma to church, all of them are wanderers — our house was full of wanderers; yes praying mantis. And we will come back from church, sit down for some kind of work, more on velvet in gold, and the wanderers will begin to tell: where have they been, what they have seen, different lives, or are singing verses. So the time will pass until lunchtime. Here the old women will fall asleep, and I walk in the garden. Then to Vespers, and in the evening again stories and singing. It was so good!
Barbara. Why, we have the same thing.
Katerina. Yes, everything here seems to be out of bondage. And until death I loved to go to church! Precisely, I used to go into paradise and do not see anyone, and I don’t remember the time, and I don’t hear when the service is over. Exactly how it all happened in one second. Mamma said that everyone used to look at me, what was happening to me. Do you know: on a sunny day, such a light pillar goes down from the dome, and smoke flows in this pillar, like a cloud, and I see it as if the angels in this pillar were flying and singing. And then, it happened, a girl, I would get up at night - we, too, had lamps burning everywhere - but somewhere in the corner I pray until morning. Or I'll go to the garden early in the morning, as soon as the sun is rising, I'll fall on my knees, I pray and cry, and I myself don't know what I'm praying for and what I'm crying about; so they will find me. And what I prayed for then, what I asked, I do not know; I didn’t need anything, I had enough of everything. And what dreams I dreamed, Varenka, what dreams! Or golden temples, or some kind of extraordinary gardens, and everyone is singing invisible voices, and it smells of cypress, and the mountains and trees seem to be not the same as usual, but like they are written on images. And the fact that I fly, I fly through the air. And now sometimes I dream, but rarely, and not that.
Barbara. What then?
KATERINA (after a pause). I will die soon.
Barbara. Full of what you are!
Katerina. No, I know I'm going to die. Oh, girl, something bad is happening to me, some kind of miracle! This has never happened to me. Something about me is so extraordinary. As if I’m starting to live again, or… I don’t know.
Barbara. What's the matter with you?
KATERINA (takes her hand). And here's what, Varya: to be some kind of sin! Such a fear on me, such a fear on me! It’s as if I’m standing over an abyss and someone is pushing me there, but I have nothing to hold on to. (Grabs his head with his hand.)
Barbara. What's the matter? Are you healthy?
Katerina. I’m healthy ... I wish I was ill, otherwise it’s not good. Some kind of dream creeps into my head. And I will not leave her anywhere. I will think - I will not collect thoughts in any way, I will pray - I will not pray in any way. I babble words with my tongue, but it’s not at all the same on my mind: as if the crafty one was whispering in my ears, but everything about such things is bad. And then it seems to me that I will become ashamed of myself. What happened with me? Before a disaster before any of this! At night, Varya, I can't sleep, I keep dreaming of some kind of whisper: someone speaks to me so kindly, as if a dove is cooing. I do not dream, Varya, as before, trees of paradise and mountains, but as if someone was embracing me so warmly and ardently and leading me somewhere, and I followed him, I was walking ...
Barbara. Well?
Katerina. But what am I telling you: you are a girl.
Varvara (looking around). Speak! I'm worse than you.
Katerina. Well, what can I say? I am ashamed.
Barbara. Speak, there is no need!
Katerina. It will make me so stuffy, so stuffy at home, that I would run. And such a thought will come to me that, if it were my will, I would now ride along the Volga, on a boat, singing songs, or on a troika on a good one, embracing ...
Barbara. Not with my husband.
Katerina. How do you know?
Barbara. You shouldn't know.
Katerina. Ah, Varya, sin is on my mind! How much I, poor, cried, what I really did not do on myself! I cannot get away from this sin. Don't go anywhere. It's not good, it's a terrible sin, Varenka, that I love someone else?
Barbara. What am I to judge you! I have my sins.
Katerina. What should I do! My strength is not enough. Where should I go; out of longing I will do something on myself!
Barbara. What you! What's the matter! Wait a minute, my brother will leave tomorrow, we'll think about it; maybe it will be possible to see each other.
Katerina. No, no, don't! What you! What you! Save God!
Barbara. What are you scared of?
Katerina. If I see him even once, I’ll run away from home, I’m not going home for anything in the world.
Barbara. But wait, we'll see.
Katerina. No, no, and don’t tell me, I don’t want to listen.
Barbara. And what a desire to dry up! Though die of melancholy, they will regret that eh, you! Why, wait. So what a bondage to torture yourself!
