Deep Thoughts by Me - (No)NaBloPoMo Day 28
Am reading the Brothers Karamazov by Dostoyevsky. I've been reading it for days and hours and weeks and am still only 45% done. If I were reading the hard copy and not the Kindle I'd probably have major guns hoisting that fat ass book around.
In Brothers Karamazov, the Father Zosima died. Spoiler alert there but the book is 150 years old. If I've now ruined it for you, I'm not overly sympathetic.
This Father Zosima was a really respected Elder and everyone loved him when he was alive. Because of this, the town had the expectation there might be a miracle and his body might not stink in his coffin. I guess this is the mark of a saint, that your coffin doesn't stink up the place.
Sadly, Father Zosima stunk. No miracle. And everyone started to question his greatness. Whereas the day before the town defiantly and wholeheartedly loved him, suddenly people began to doubt the worth of what he'd done for them.
It reminded me of an article in the Onion about how someone found a lost Beatles album that sucked and so concluded that "New evidence reveals Beatles actually a terrible band."
This probably has to do with this phenomenon I read about in the Daniel Kahneman book. Kahneman says that whether we ultimately enjoy something or not has to do with what happens at the end.
Say we listen to glorious amazing music for 20 minutes that we are in awe over, but then there's an earsplitting screech right at the end. Most will say that the music was not enjoyable and the whole experience was ruined. Even though the vast majority of the whole experience was hugely enjoyable.
More deep thoughts:
In Brothers Karamazov, the Father Zosima died. Spoiler alert there but the book is 150 years old. If I've now ruined it for you, I'm not overly sympathetic.
This Father Zosima was a really respected Elder and everyone loved him when he was alive. Because of this, the town had the expectation there might be a miracle and his body might not stink in his coffin. I guess this is the mark of a saint, that your coffin doesn't stink up the place.
Sadly, Father Zosima stunk. No miracle. And everyone started to question his greatness. Whereas the day before the town defiantly and wholeheartedly loved him, suddenly people began to doubt the worth of what he'd done for them.
It reminded me of an article in the Onion about how someone found a lost Beatles album that sucked and so concluded that "New evidence reveals Beatles actually a terrible band."
This probably has to do with this phenomenon I read about in the Daniel Kahneman book. Kahneman says that whether we ultimately enjoy something or not has to do with what happens at the end.
Say we listen to glorious amazing music for 20 minutes that we are in awe over, but then there's an earsplitting screech right at the end. Most will say that the music was not enjoyable and the whole experience was ruined. Even though the vast majority of the whole experience was hugely enjoyable.
More deep thoughts:
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