Prishvin love. The road to a friend (diaries, compiled by A
LOVE
When a person loves, he penetrates into
the essence of the world.
The white hedge was covered with needles of frost, red and golden bushes. The silence is such that not a single leaf will move from the tree. But the bird flew by, and a flap of the wing was enough for the leaf to break off and, whirling, fly down.
What happiness it was to feel the golden leaf of the hazel tree, covered with white lace of frost! And this cold running water in the river ... and this fire, and this silence, and the storm, and everything that exists in nature and that we don’t even know, everything entered and united in my love, embracing the whole world.
Love is an unknown country, and we all sail there each on our own ship, and each of us is a captain on our own ship and leads the ship in our own way.
I missed the first powder, but I do not repent, because before the light a white dove appeared to me in a dream, and when I then opened my eyes, I realized such joy from the white snow and the morning star, which you do not always recognize when hunting.
That's how gently, blowing his wing, he hugged the face of the warm air of a flying bird, and a delighted person rises in the light of the morning star, and asks, like a small child: stars, moon, white light, take the place of the white dove that has flown away! And the same in this morning hour was the touch of understanding my love, as the source of all light, all the stars, the moon, the sun and all the illuminated flowers, herbs, children, all life on earth.
And at night it seemed to me that my charm was over, I no longer love. Then I saw that there was nothing else in me, and my whole soul was like a devastated land in the deep autumn: the cattle were stolen, the fields were empty, where it was black, where there was snow, and on the snow - traces of cats.
What is love? Nobody really said this. But only one thing can truly be said about love, that it contains the striving for immortality and eternity, and at the same time, of course, as something small and in itself incomprehensible and necessary, the ability of a being seized by love to leave behind more or less durable things. ranging from small children to Shakespearean lines.
A sportswoman in trousers and a white coat, her eyebrows are shaved into a thread, her eyes are beautiful, like those of rams. She arrives exactly at 8 1/2, measures the pulse and begins the exercises. In the morning I always think well, and I think about my own, and I do the exercises without thinking, I look at her and, like she, so am I, like she, so am I.
That's what I was thinking today, spreading my hands over the score, clenching my fists and crouching. I thought that L. in the spiritual world was for me the same as this athlete in gymnastics. I, gradually looking at L., noticing the methods of her service to me, almost mechanically began to serve her as well as I could.
So she teaches me love, but I must say that, of course, it came to me a little late, and that's why she is so impressed. Generally speaking, this is not a new thing: good families have long been brought up through mutual service.
And perhaps, among all nations, and even among the most savage, in their own way, in a savage way, there has always been the same physical culture of goodness or service of one person to another.
My friend! You are my only salvation when I am in misfortune ... But when I am happy in my deeds, then, rejoicing, I bring you my joy and love. And you answer - what kind of love is dearer to you: when I am in misfortune or when I am healthy, rich, and glorious, and I come to you as a winner?
Of course, - she answered, - that love is higher when you are a winner. And if in misfortune you cling to me in order to be saved, then you love it for yourself! So be happy and come to me a winner: it's better. But I myself love you equally - in sorrow and in joy.
A small ice floe, white on top, green on top, swam quickly, and a seagull swam on it. While I was climbing the mountain, it became, God knows where, in the distance, where you can see the white church in curly clouds under the magpie kingdom of black and white.
Large water overflows its banks and spreads far. But even a small stream hurries to the big water and even reaches the ocean.
Only stagnant water remains for itself to stand, go out and turn green.
So is the love of people: a big one embraces the whole world, it makes everyone feel good. And there is simple, family love, running in streams in the same beautiful direction.
And there is love only for oneself, and in it a person is also like stagnant water.
THE IMAGINARY END OF THE NOVEL. They were so indebted to each other, so delighted with their meeting that they tried to give away all their wealth stored in their souls, as if in some kind of competition: you gave, and I gave more, and again the same on the other side, and until neither of them had anything left of their stocks. In such cases, people who have given everything of their own to another consider this other to be their property and this torment each other for the rest of their lives.
But these two, beautiful and free people, having once found out that they had given everything to each other, and there was nothing more for them to exchange, and there was nowhere higher for them to grow in this exchange, hugged, kissed each other tightly and parted without tears and without words.
Be blessed, wonderful people!
The death of a current man. The lead hit him in the side and hit his heart, but he must have thought that it was his opponent who had hit him, because he jumped up and fell, and his wings were already flapping in agony, and he, tearing out the sound of love from his throat, was current ...
In her everything was found for me, and through her everything came together in me.
The woman stretched out her hand to the harp, touched it with her finger, and from the touch of her finger to the string sound was born.
So it was with me: she touched - and I sang.
A change in the life of a birch since the first bright and still cold pre-spring ray shows the virgin whiteness of its bark.
When a warm beam heats up the bark and a large sleepy black fly sits on a white birch bark and flies on; when the inflated buds create such a chocolate-colored crown density that the bird sits down and hides; when, in a brown density on thin twigs, occasionally some buds open like surprised birds with green wings; when an earring appears, like a fork with two or three horns, and when suddenly on a good day the earrings become golden and the whole birch is golden; and when, finally, you enter a birch grove and the green transparent canopy embraces you, then, from the life of one beloved birch, you will understand the life of the whole spring and the whole person in his first love, which determines his whole life.
No, friends, I will never agree with this that the first man in paradise was Adam. The first person in Paradise was a woman, and it was she who planted and made the garden. And then Adam came to the arranged garden with his dream.
We often see that a man is something and a woman is excellent. This means that we do not know the hidden dignity of this man, appreciated by a woman: this love is selective and, probably, is true love.
If a woman interferes with creativity, then you need to work with her, like Stepan Razin, and if you don’t want to, like Stepan, then you will find your own Taras Bulba, and let him shoot you.
But if a woman helps create life, keeps a house, gives birth to children, or participates in creativity with her husband, then she should be revered as a queen. It is given to us by severe struggle. And maybe that's why I hate weak men.
The person you love in me is, of course, better than me: I'm not like that. But you love, I will try to be better than myself.
Do you know that love when you yourself don’t have anything from it and won’t, but you still love everything around you through this, and you walk through the field and meadow, and pick up colorful, one to one, blue cornflowers smelling of honey, and blue forget-me-nots.
If you think about her, looking straight into her face, and not somehow from the side, or "about", then poetry runs straight to me like a stream. Then it seems as if love and poetry are two names for the same source. But this is not entirely true: poetry cannot replace all love and only flows out of it like a lake.
Love is like big water: a thirsty one comes to it, gets drunk or scoops it up with a bucket and carries it away in its measure. And the water keeps running.
For some reason, it seems to us that if these are birds, then they fly a lot, if they are fallow deer or tigers, then they continuously run and jump. In fact, birds sit more than fly, tigers are very lazy, fallow deer graze and only move their lips.
So are people too.
We think that people's lives are filled with love, and when we ask ourselves and others - who loved how much, and it turns out - that's so little! That's how lazy we are too!
Everyone is doing something...
Isn't it a matter of putting two lives into one?
The beginning of love is in attention, then in election, then in achievement, because love without work is dead.
At last he came, my unknown friend, and never left me again. Now I no longer ask where he lives: in the east, in the west, in the south or in the north.
Now I know: he lives in the heart of my beloved.
When a person loves, he penetrates the essence of the world.
The white hedge was covered with needles of frost, red and golden bushes. The silence is such that not a single leaf will move from the tree.
Composition
Love is a feeling that seems to have appeared along with the human race. There is an opinion that it appeared even earlier, because each of us at birth is the fruit of love, a source of beauty and purity, and only later, over time, a sponge that absorbs the cruelty of realities. But what is love really and how does it affect a person? This is the question that M.M. Prishvin.
“When a person loves, he penetrates the essence of the world,” the text given to us begins with these words, and with each further sentence the author plunges us into the atmosphere of the magic of this feeling, leading us to the great and all-consuming meaning of love. MM. Prishvin seeks to convey to the reader the idea that a person, embraced by this bright feeling, begins to perceive the world around him differently and feel nature - he literally merges with space, because he remains alone with love "embracing the whole world." A person who has lost this feeling ceases to feel immortal, loses inner harmony, as if emptied from the inside.
The idea that the author develops in the text is connected with the underestimation of such a feeling as love. It, according to the writer, is the happiness and harmony of man. It is only thanks to love that we have the opportunity to feel our full value in this world, to live in unity with everything around us and, with all this, which is very important, “leave behind us more or less durable things.”
One cannot but agree with the opinion of M.M. Prishvin. I also believe that love is a bright and all-consuming ray of light, a ray of warmth and kindness, which allows each of us to see all the most beautiful that is in the world around us. Love gives us an aggravation of feelings, gives us new emotions, pushes us to creativity and ensures eternal existence. In love, it seems to me, there is the meaning of human existence.
About how love can affect a person's life, A.I. Kuprin in the story "Garnet Bracelet". On the example of Zheltkov, the author shows that love from the very first moments can become the meaning of a person's life, his greatest happiness. Once having met Vera Nikolaevna, the main character could no longer let her out of his heart. The whole subsequent life of Zheltkov, every minute of his life was filled with this woman, and the feeling given to him was so sweet for him that he was more afraid of losing him than death. However, unfortunately, this love was not destined to become mutual, and Zheltkov, immensely respecting the princess, did not dare to interfere in her life with more than a few letters - it was enough for him just to write them and live in the short moments of meeting Vera Nikolaevna, in these few seconds he considered himself the happiest man in the whole world.
A good example of true, sincere and pure love is the poetry of A.S. Pushkin. It seems that love has always been in the heart of this poet, which is why he was so close to nature and so keenly felt any change in it. In the poem "On the hills of Georgia lies the darkness of the night..." the author shows that the lyrical hero is truly happy because he has the opportunity to love. There is no severity of negative emotions in him - his sadness is light, and his heart is ablaze with love, because he can’t do it any other way, and why? After all, this feeling allows the lyrical hero, even in the darkness of the night, to see the world in bright, light colors.
A lot of words have been said about love and many lines have been written. In conclusion of all the above, I would like to recall the words written by N.A. Berdyaev, who describe the meaning of love better than ever: “Love is the universal energy of life, which has the ability to turn evil passions into creative passions.”
April 10, 1940. The famous writer Mikhail Prishvin in Zagorsk (as Sergiev Posad was then called) says goodbye to his wife, Evfrosinya Pavlovna. They lived together for more than three decades, raised two sons. And now he is collecting things. To go to another. At 67 years old!
It didn't work out well. The wife threatens with reprisal and death. He advises to dry crackers and be afraid of strychnine. The children are also not happy with the decision of the father. But he cannot do otherwise. Later, the writer will entrust his diary with the following lines:
Do I have the right, in my old age, to live with a friend who is close to my soul? Yes, I loved Evfrosinya Pavlovna and lived in harmony with her, but do you know that I have always been lonely? After all, although she is smart, she never understood me.
But why did Prishvin decide on a painful break with his wife only after three decades of marriage? Why did he dream of another all his life? And how did he fall in love in retirement?
shameful mistake
Prishvin once wrote: "The first difficult thing in life is to marry happily, the second, even more difficult, is to die happily." Mikhail Mikhailovich was looking for his family happiness all his life. Found it for the first time in Paris. In the city of love, the future writer was not of his own free will. In 1897, when a spark was just igniting a flame, he was arrested for participating in the activities of a Marxist circle and placed in solitary confinement for a year. After his release, Prishvin is forced to go abroad to study as a land surveyor. And there, in France, he meets her, Varenka. Varvara Petrovna Izmalkova. Beautiful lady, Versailles maiden, "morning star".
A student of the Faculty of History at the Sorbonne, the daughter of a major St. Petersburg official, in the future - a correspondent for Alexander Blok. For three weeks they have an affair. The matter goes to the wedding, but suddenly - for no apparent reason - Prishvin abruptly cuts him off:
To the one I once loved, I made demands that she could not fulfill. I could not humiliate her with an animal feeling - that was my madness. And she wanted an ordinary marriage. The knot was tied over me for life, and I became hunchbacked.
A year later, he attempts to cut this knot. Sends Varvara a letter - with a request to start all over again. She comes to Petersburg and makes an appointment with him. It would seem that here it is - the long-awaited happiness! But fate decreed otherwise. Many years later, Mikhail Mikhailovich would call it "the most shameful moment of his life." It's hard to believe, but he ... mixed up the day. The offended girl goes back to Paris and sends him a farewell message in which she begs him never to look for a meeting with her again. Otherwise, he threatens to lay hands on himself. Soon Prishvin finds out: Varvara got married. For a person without high demands and with a good memory. It turns out later that this is not true. But still nothing can be changed. The lost bride will dream of him until old age. In the first months after parting with her, Mikhail Mikhailovich was terribly afraid of sharp objects and upper floors. To distract himself, he goes to work with his head. Goes to agronomy. To study potatoes ... in garden and field culture.
mental suffering
One day, he trusts his sad thoughts to paper. It seems to be getting easier. This is how Prishvin's first works are born. He stops eating potatoes. Seriously takes up the pen and leaves away from difficult memories. To the land of fearless birds. Kola Peninsula, Solovetsky Islands, Arkhangelsk, Arctic Ocean. From distant business trips he brings fairy tales, stories, essays. But the heart continues to suffer. To soothe his heartache, he meets with a simple illiterate "the first and very good woman" - a peasant woman Evfrosinya Pavlovna. The future mother of two sons of Prishvin.
Together they were in joy and in sorrow. After the revolution, in the impoverished Smolensk region, the house for the writer and his family was ... a hay barn. It would seem that difficulties should unite the spouses, but this does not happen. With each new day, the writer understands: Evfrosinya Pavlovna is not the woman he has been looking for all his life ...
Our union was completely free, and I thought to myself that if she decides to leave for another, I will give her up without a fight. And I thought about myself - if another, real one comes, then I will go to the real one.
But where to look for it, this real one? After all, he is already under 70, most of his life has been lived. And there is still no truly close, beloved person nearby. But there is sadness and depression. Alone, completely alone... In December 1939, the writer's assistant at home, fearing for his mental health, brought a copper cross on a black cord from the church. To put it on for Prishvin meant forever putting an end to the dream of finding a beloved woman and friend. Calm down and while away the rest of the days with the family. Accept your cross...
cherished desire
Prishvin meets the new, 1940th year with his family at home - in Lavrushinsky. When the chimes strike 12, household members make wishes, write on pieces of paper and burn on fire the joss-house that the son of the writer Leva brought from Bukhara. Mikhail Mikhailovich also picked up a pencil. Wrote the word cross and held out his hand to the fire. But at the last moment, he pulled back. I wrote "Come" and burned the note.
She arrived on January 16, 1940. On the coldest day of the coldest Moscow winter. Shortly before this, Prishvin throws a cry among friends: find me a girl with a Russian soul. To help put your personal archive in order. Many years later, a brilliant writer will write in his diary:
The day of our meeting with L. the holiday of the frostbitten leg
L. Liorko Valeria Dmitrievna. Lyalya. At first glance, Prishvin did not like her so much that their first meeting promised to be the last. To himself, he called her Popovna and gave her woolen socks in parting. But she still froze her legs
The first meeting put Valeria Dmitrievna to bed for a long time. I couldn't walk because of the pain. And she also recalled with dislike the famous author of Ginseng:
Throwing back his gray head, stocky, unusually youthful for his age, he expressed self-confidence and disdain. I sat under a white Venetian chandelier, laced like a bride, and I knew that in its light every hair, every spot was examined on me. My heart sank: I realized that I was in a strange place.
A month later, Valeria Dmitrievna came to the writer's house again. And it was no longer a foreign place. For seven hours they talked about everything except work. Prishvin - about his loneliness. She also poured out her soul. Bedridden mother, hard work. Lost love, arrest and exile ... The writer was shocked:
I don't know such a miserable life.
A few days later, Mikhail Mikhailovich will tell her:
What if I fall in love?
And he writes in his diary:
... our attention to friend to friend is extraordinary. And spiritual life moves forward not by a clove, not by two, but at once by one turn of the lever to the whole cog
Soon the beautiful sorceress will settle in the writer's house. Prishvin is happy, in love and truly loved - for the first time in his life. He calls her his evening star. And he admits: as if wings had grown:
After her, I had a dove in my chest, and with it I fell asleep. I woke up at night: a dove trembles. In the morning I got up - everything is a dove.
Only one thing overshadowed his happiness: he was married. And he perfectly understood that the explanation with his wife would not be easy. Still would! Gray hair in a beard, demon in a rib. The famous writer, the father of two children, leaves his family for the sake of a “young woman” with a camp past, who “assists” only a small room in a communal apartment, where she is not even registered, and a sick mother in her arms ...
Insidious homeowner
The exposition of the family drama unfolded on the threshold of the writer's apartment. The plot is instant: either we, the native family, or this woman- a homeowner, an insidious predator who is trying with all her might to confuse the writer's head for the sake of a four-room apartment. Prishvin described the climax in his diary:
Dickensian picture! Lyova shouted at me in his madness that they would put my “wife” in prison, and they would remove my orders from me. It was so unbearably painful and terrible that something in me broke off forever.
It was not possible to "recapture" the father and husband. Many years later, before her death, Evfrosinya Pavlovna, an abandoned wife, would say:
My husband is not a simple person, a writer, which means I must serve him. And she served all her life as best she could ...
The new darling - Valeria Dmitrievna, who allegedly only hunted for Prishvin's apartment - was seriously alarmed. Not for housing - for the life and health of a loved one. And for the first time she confessed her feelings to him:
Since yesterday, I learned that living without you is disturbing, I can’t find a place for myself. I think it's because I learned about the danger: they want to separate us. You have, to be honest, achieved this - and here you are: now I can only be with you or without you at all.
Since then, they have not parted for a single day. Together they lived happily for a decade and a half. It so happened that the day of their meeting - January 16 - became the day of the writer's death. After his death, Valeria Dmitrievna became the heiress of the huge literary archive of Mikhail Mikhailovich. It was thanks to her that many of Prishvin's works saw the light.
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If the writer Mikhail Prishvin had met his fate destined for him not in his declining years, but at least a little earlier, he would have entered the history of literature not as a “singer of Russian nature”, but as a singer of love. Mikhail Prishvin's diaries, which he kept for half a century and which he called his main book, are full of lyrical statements. And the love diary “We are with you”, which Prishvin wrote together with his beloved Valeria Lebedeva (Liorko), can be called one of the most beautiful books about love.
“Love is like the sea, sparkling with the colors of heaven. Happy is he who comes to the shore and, enchanted, harmonizes his soul with the majesty of the whole sea. Then the boundaries of the soul of a poor person expand to infinity, and the poor person then understands that there is no death either ... ”- Prishvin went to this understanding all his life. “I will bring my love to the end and find at the end of it the beginning of endless love of people passing into each other. Let our descendants know what springs hid in this era under the rocks of evil and violence, ”wrote Prishvin. To understand what the lessons of love learned by the writer looked like, one should turn to his diaries.
Love doesn't have to be carnal
More precisely, love should not be based only on carnal feelings. In a love diary, Prishvin recalls an incident that had a strong effect on him: “It was in childhood. I am a boy and she is a beautiful young girl, my aunt, who came from the fabulous country of Italy. For the first time, she awakened in me an all-encompassing, purest feeling, I did not understand even then that this was love. Then she left for her Italy. Years passed. It was a long time ago, now I can’t find the beginning and reasons for the duality of my feelings - this shame from the woman with whom I met for an hour, and fear of great love.
Later, Prishvin met with his “Marya Morevna,” as he called her, and confessed to a painful split. “And you connect,” the former lover answered mysteriously. “But this is the whole difficulty of life, in order to regain your childhood, when it was all one.” Prishvin carried this awareness of the sinfulness of the flesh, the denial of love without the participation of the soul through his whole life. He believed that it was "the denial of temptation" that helped him become a writer. After a series of those cases when the feeling was based solely on passion, Prishvin will seek in love, first of all, a spiritual beginning: “Nothing can come from outside, this is your personal business - connect and create true love, without shame and without fear."
That's why: Relationships cannot be built on passion alone. Prishvin always warned "to beware of passions", their dark power overshadows the mind. A truly strong relationship includes the voice of reason, and carnal pleasures, and tenderness of the heart at the same time.
Love doesn't have to be spiritual
Everything is good in moderation. After a collision with the "dark side" of carnal attraction and disappointment in him, Prishvin becomes an ascetic for many years. “Hunger for love or poisonous food of love? - his choice is clear. “I got a love hunger.” In 1902, traveling around Europe after graduating from the University of Leipzig, Prishvin met Varvara Izmalkova, a Russian student at the Sorbonne, in Paris. The platonic romance did not last very long, only three weeks, and ended in a break due to the different aspirations of the lovers. Prishvin, with his bitter experience of “spiritual”, carnal love, was looking for a union of souls, he saw in Varenka a “Beautiful Lady”, an object of worship, but not a living woman with all her advantages and disadvantages. Varvara, on the other hand, thought more down to earth, like most girls in her years, she was waiting for a marriage proposal, engagement, wedding dress and other pleasant everyday worries that did not interest the young idealist writer at all. He did not know how to combine the desire to possess his beloved, to make her his wife with the desire to worship her from afar, like a goddess on a pedestal: “This was the fatal romance of my youth for life: she immediately agreed, and I felt ashamed, and she noticed it and refused. I insisted, and after a struggle she agreed to marry me. And again I got bored of being a groom. Finally, she guessed and refused me this time forever and thus became inaccessible. All his life, Prishvin recalled this relationship: “To the one I once loved, I made demands that she could not fulfill. I could not humiliate her with an animal feeling - that was my madness. And she wanted an ordinary marriage. The knot was tied over me for life.
That's why: spiritual love without bodily attraction also does not bring happiness. Relationships should be as complete as possible. It is worth excluding one “ingredient”, and now discord sets in ... It was not for nothing that Prishvin compared love with the sea: “But the other comes to the sea not with a soul, but with a jug and, scooping up, brings only a jug from the whole sea, and the water in the jug is salty and worthless. "Love is a lie," such a man says, and never returns to the sea. If you choose only one side of the whole spectrum of relationships, be prepared for disappointment.
Love doesn't have to be compassionate
The trouble with many women is that they mistake pity for love. But men, it turns out, are susceptible to this. Still experiencing a break with Varvara Izmalkova, tormented by the incompleteness of this relationship, Prishvin met a peasant woman, Efrosinya Pavlovna Smogaleva. After her divorce from her husband, she raised her son alone. Prishvin, with his idealism, decided that since he did not succeed in the role of a knight singing the Beautiful Lady, then he could try himself in the no less romantic role of a savior. “I thought: to love a woman is to discover a girl in her. And only then will a woman go to love when you discover it in her: a girl, even if she had ten husbands and many children, ”Prishvin thought at that time.
Love, based only on the mind, did not work out from the very beginning. Pity was replaced by mutual discontent, irritation. Pavlovna, as Prishvin called his wife, understood that her husband did not love her and took out her disappointment in anger. Prishvin, on the other hand, suffered in silence, endured the endless reproaches of his wife, constant humiliation - and Efrosinya could, for example, begin to rudely scold him in front of the children - and blamed himself for everything: “In my love there was an egoistic rush with an inability to penetrate into the soul of another person. He seemed to atone for past unsuccessful relationships with self-sacrifice.
Writing helped come to terms with a failed marriage. And also a passion for beautiful things that Prishvin fell in love with, “like in his youth he fell in love with a bride.” He bought an antique gold-headed cane from a thrift store and took it with him to bed. This "materialism" was a kind of psychological defense against the sad reality. “And, of course, Pavlovna appeared to me then not as a person, but as part of nature, part of my home. That is why there is no “man” in my writings,” Prishvin answered the accusation of Zinaida Gippius, who called him “an inhuman writer.”
That's why: self-deception does not make people happy. If there is neither a spiritual nor a sensual component in a relationship, they turn into a “deadly swamp”. Since ancient times, wisdom has been known: the attraction of bodies generates passion, the attraction of souls generates friendship, the attraction of minds generates respect, and only the combination of all three attractions generates love. There was no passion, no friendship, no respect in the marriage of Mikhail Mikhailovich and Pavlovna. “Why did I do this, why did I waste precious human life on fun or self-deception! - Prishvin lamented at the end of his life. - There was no bright day for us. One displeasure after another…”
It's never too late to love
But fate always encourages patient people, and at the age of 67, Prishvin meets his first true love. Valeria Dmitrievna is 40 years old, and she came to Prishvin's house to get a job as a secretary on the recommendation of a mutual friend.
Valeria Prishvina
By the time they met, Valeria also had an experience of unhappy love behind her. Her first lover, a philosopher, "abhorred marriage" and called for a lofty ideal of relationships. He wanted to travel with Valeria and preach a new doctrine, but she could not leave her mother. Later, the girl married a friend who had long sought her hand. But this marriage of convenience did not bring her happiness. On a false denunciation, she and her husband were arrested and sent into exile. A few years later, Valeria, unable to live with the unloved anymore, asked her husband for a divorce. With such a "burden of the lived" she comes to Prishvin.
“It was a woman not imaginary, not on paper, but alive, spiritually graceful, and I realized that real happy people live for this, and not for books, like me; that it is worth living for this ... ”- Prishvin will soon write in his diary. From this mutual admiration and respect began a friendship that grew into love. Prishvin realized past mistakes and realized that love is not always complicated, but can appear in such a simple guise: “And now I wanted to escape from this gloomy-habited throne.” Perhaps for the first time in his life, Prishvin is ready to forget about his ideals and enjoy the closeness of a simple "earthly" woman.
If the writer was tormented at first, thinking how he deserved such happiness, then the difficult divorce from Efrosinya calmed his doubts. She did not even hesitate to go to the Writers' Union to complain about the "criminal relationship" of her husband. After the “war”, as Prishvin said about his divorce, happiness with Valeria became complete. It was clear to both of them that this was forever. The last years of his life, Mikhail Mikhailovich Prishvin lived with the feeling that "God created me the happiest person and instructed me to glorify love on Earth."
That's why: it is never too late to break off relationships that make you unhappy in order to start new ones by meeting a person in whom you feel a kindred spirit. It is worth fighting for love at any age, because living without feeling is like “being pickled in a glass jar,” as Prishvin said about his first marriage. He added: “If a woman helps create life, keeps a house, gives birth to children, or participates in creativity with her husband, then she should be revered as a queen. It is given to us by severe struggle. And that's why, maybe, I hate weak men ... In love, you have to fight for your height and win this. In love, you have to grow and grow yourself.”
M. Prishvin raises the problem of the importance of love in human life.
To draw readers' attention to this problem, the author asks the question: "What is love?" There is no exact answer to this question, but the writer is convinced that love "contains the desire for immortality and eternity", "the ability of a being to leave behind more or less durable things." The publicist brings us to the idea that love evokes new emotions in a person, makes you think in a new way, look at the world with different eyes.
M. Prishvin compares love with "an unknown country in which each person sails on his own ship, is a captain and leads him in his own way."
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According to the author, love is the highest value in a person's life, which awakens the best feelings in him. One cannot but agree with this, because it makes our life filled with meaning and allows us to look at the world with completely different eyes, reveals the best qualities in a person.
Many domestic writers understood the problem of the significance of love in human life. An indelible impression on me was made by the novel by A.S. Pushkin "The Captain's Daughter" We are witnessing how, against the backdrop of historical events, sincere and tender love is born. Petr Grinev and Masha Mironova fell in love with each other. This love helped them with honor to go through all the trials of life.
Using the example of Pyotr Grinev and Masha Mironova, Pushkin shows the ideal of human relationships. True love, faithful and devoted, is of great importance in a person's life. It is she who helps to find the meaning of existence, to reveal the best human qualities, to preserve honor and dignity, even in the most difficult situations.
No one can remain indifferent to the novel - the epic L.N. Tolstoy "War and Peace". One of the main characters is Andrei Bolkonsky and Natasha Rostova. Starting to read this work, it is difficult to guess that a little girl, whose birthday is celebrated at the very beginning, will fall in love with an adult married man. And later, these feelings will be mutual.
Throughout the work, Andrei Bolkonsky goes through many life trials, does not feel love for his wife, suffers, and after her death is completely saddened. Everything changed when Natasha and Andrei met at the ball. Bolkonsky, who has not seen Rostov for a long time, falls in love with her during the dance. This relationship was long-awaited for Natasha, she arrived in seventh heaven with happiness. Bolkonsky also changed, became kinder, softer, smiled more. Love has a huge impact on people, reveals the best qualities in them.
Love is the highest spiritual value in a person's life, which awakens the best feelings, makes you look at the world around you differently.
Updated: 2017-07-24
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