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Смысл любви
Цикл из пяти статей Владимира Сергеевича Соловьева (1853—1900), впервые опубликованный в журналах 1892—1893 годах. По мнению Н. А. Бердяева, «самое замечательное, что было написано о любви». А.Ф. Лосев писал, что «Вл.Соловьев в виде единственного пути спасения для человечества проповедует половую любовь, которую он, правда, чрезвычайно одухотворяет, так что под сомнением остается даже вся ее физиология, как об этом можно судить в примечаниях…»
69 pages, Kindle Edition
First published January 1, 1894
About the author
Vladimir Sergeyevich Solovyov
139 books150 followersVladimir Sergeyevich Solovyov (Russian: Владимир Сергеевич Соловьёв) was a Russian philosopher, theologian, poet, pamphleteer and literary critic, who played a significant role in the development of Russian philosophy and poetry at the end of the 19th century and in the spiritual renaissance of the early 20th century.
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July 4, 2019
לסקירה מפורטת בעברית, קישור לבלוג שלי -
https://sivi-the-avid-reader.com/משמע...
https://sivi-the-avid-reader.com/משמע...
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October 23, 2026The meaning of love as a feeling is that it really forces us, with all our being, to acknowledge for another the same absolute significance that, because of the power of egoism, we are conscious of only in our own selves.... love is the justification and salvation of individuality through the sacrifice of egoism, whereby the lover acknowledges the absolute significance of the beloved, shifting the centre of personal existence from self to other."
(Vladimir Solovyov)
So, what is the meaning of LOVE? I’ll be damned if I know. Let me take a walk down memory lane.
The Moon Cycle: A Memoir in Four Seasons!
We often measure our lives in years, but some lives are measured in pain and by the moon’s light.
This is a journey through the shifts of a single life. It moves from the spring love of youth, through the blistering heat of summer passion, into the long, resigned warm embers of autumn, and finally to the cold stillness of winter.
This is a story for the lost souls, the dreamers, and anyone who has ever looked into the abyss of another’s soul and chosen to dive in.
1. Spring Moon
In the spring of ’74, I was thirteen, crossing the country on a pop-group tour bus, rushing through the night toward the middle of nowhere. As the bus zoomed into the darkness, I caught a glimpse of her reflection in the window, and I finally understood what it meant to be in love.
That painful discovery was like a fire igniting within, burning me from the inside with bright, glorious flames. Alone in the back seat, with tears trembling at the edges of my eyes, I was painfully ablaze. In that moment, I was ripped from the comfortable safety of my childhood and thrown into the frightening unknown of coming of age.
A bittersweet enigma of hopelessness and joy completely changed my perception of life. I was left confused, unsure how to navigate this paradox of hope and despair, or what to do with this brand-new awareness. Under the glow of a massive spring moon, I suffered the gentle mockery of the well-meaning adults around me. Everyone seemed to understand what was happening but me.
Rocked by the steady rolling bus, I eventually drifted into dreams of a future that could never be. Before I slept, I received a gentle promise that everything would be easier one day and a soft kiss on the top of my head from the first and the last—as I believed then—love of my already long life.
2. Summer Moon
At the end of the summer of ’80, I was nineteen, exuberant and young. Classes had just finished, and I was heading toward the exit. The university was teeming with students—likely bright futures running in every direction, a confusing, colourful ballet performed amidst an indecipherable cacophony of happy background noise.
I was navigating the crowd on the stairs when I was struck by a pair of emerald-green eyes, shining with a radiant pure joy. I nearly tumbled headfirst. In that timeless split second when I lost my footing, I saw those smiling eyes fly open in fear. In the next heartbeat, as I recovered my balance to stay upright, I fell deeper in love than I ever imagined possible. In a spark of understanding, I realised that until that moment, I hadn’t truly been alive; I had merely been breathing in the shadows of life.
One going down, the other up, turning our heads, searching for each other’s gaze with a grin of recognition.
That instant led to a shared complicity that moved us into a private world fed by hopes and dreams. Before long, we built a love that burned like a furnace, neither aware nor caring that such fires end only in ecstasy or charred remains.
My Selene, the most beautiful woman in the universe, with her shining aura, was an explosion of soft light in the darkness of my life. She left her moon to come to me, to explain to me with that first kiss why I existed. To say, "my Selene" was the wrong way to put it because I didn't own her; I belonged to her, body, heart and soul.
Together we were indestructible, invincible, until a monster called Glioblastoma took my Selene back to her moon, and as the lights faded out, her Endymion fled back to the darkness, into sleep, to dream about that sweet first kiss.
3. Autumn Moon
In the autumn of ’96, sitting on a park bench in another town, another country, another continent, I watched the Hunter’s Moon slowly pour its golden-crimson liquid colours over the trees and listened to the wind. Greenish shadows danced among the foliage, and the spirits of the night rose to remind me that I was alone.
Listening carefully, I could still hear the crystalline laughter from the days we ran through life together, certain that we could run as hard as we wished and that our hearts could never break. But they did.
Suddenly, an excited Golden Retriever appeared out of nowhere, dragging a leash attached to his collar at one end, but loose at the other. Its "attachment" came running a few seconds later, panting, with anguish written across her face. The fear in her features turned to relief when she saw me holding the end of the leash.
The furnace of my youth had become a single candle among the ashes of loss; a dim light winking, burning out slowly, yet a flame nonetheless. Under that Hunter’s Moon, I found a different kind of love—softer, milder—and despite the guilt—to which I surrendered without a fight because life had become a whisper in a dream that had to go on.
4. Winter Moon
Back where it all started!
The impossibly low ceiling of grey, heavy clouds choked the world’s light. Tyres splashing stifled the screams of the seagulls and the voices of the passing crowd. The smell of exhaust fumes and wet leaves smothered the ephemeral scent of a cigarette or a sweet perfume drifting on the wind.
The stream of floating black umbrellas—a thousand muffled drums in the distance—massed together, a dark, rolling wave that swallowed the pavement hiding my path.
City lights shimmered in the wet pavement—bright red streaks from a taillight, the yellow warmth of a shop window. The intermittent glow illuminated my thoughts, resurrecting the forgotten quiet streets we ran side by side, and making the silence beside me painfully real.
The old cinema theatre was closed, its broken displays still holding faded posters of famous movies and already dead starlets.
Wandering, I passed the bright, once-favourite café, now a dirty den for impoverished, unemployed, and retired workers.
Walking these ancient streets, heavy rain washing away the present, I stopped in wonder before the window opening into the past, and I saw the old neighbourhoods where we learned to surrender our love.
Yet time, relentless and without shame, showed little mercy; doors and windows, here and there, were boarded up, wild graffiti defaced dirty walls, and rust ate iron fences.
Once, there was a girl who used to wonder what she would become. One day, like this one, she left me for the unknown. Now she's just a memory, and this is just a place where we used to live.
In this other town, here in the dust we left behind, washed by the rain, there is not a trace of us anymore. Everything is gone.
But my tired heart clings to memories.
I keep walking, pulled by a magnetic current of low emotions, dragging me toward my destination. I stopped at the bridge and stood over the dark waters, defying Time, which hurled abuse and painful little truths into my thoughts.
Inside myself, while outside I could feel the winter wind, a gentle summer breeze carrying the sound of soft laughter pushed me forward.
As I stood there, contemplating life through her eyes, knowing how hard it had been, my heart broke under the approaching winter moon and its final, fading light.
Broken and emptied, I simply wait beneath the shades of winter clouds.
I wait for her to come creeping through my soul upon the wings of a gentle kiss, telling me to say goodbye to never-ending sorrows, blowing them away as if they were nothing but a wisp of smoke.
Time passes. Lonely nights have become a desired habit as the days slowly fade, one after another, leaving only the sound of my own breathing as the light goes out.
I search within myself for reasons to scream in amazement when I feel the ember that still burns to this day. I dream, trying to understand why we call this pain true love.
It is called true love because it fills the hollow ache where your heart used to be.
It is called true love because it was the first time you cried so hard you couldn't breathe—the first time you felt completely helpless, reaching out to grasp happiness only to realise it was a mist slipping through your fingers.
It is because you blamed yourself for something that was never your fault, or perhaps for the "fault" of loving too much.
It’s true because you dive blindly into the abyss of that love, forgetting the old warning: If you look into the abyss, be careful, for the abyss can look back, and you jump head-on.
Separated by the eternity of love, we became two lost souls in the darkness of forever, searching for each other.
I would tear my soul apart to cease this memory that I have treasured so hopelessly, just to stay alive while I wait for the Winter Moon to take me to my Selene.
Say a prayer for those lost souls.
(Vladimir Solovyov)
So, what is the meaning of LOVE? I’ll be damned if I know. Let me take a walk down memory lane.
The Moon Cycle: A Memoir in Four Seasons!
We often measure our lives in years, but some lives are measured in pain and by the moon’s light.
This is a journey through the shifts of a single life. It moves from the spring love of youth, through the blistering heat of summer passion, into the long, resigned warm embers of autumn, and finally to the cold stillness of winter.
This is a story for the lost souls, the dreamers, and anyone who has ever looked into the abyss of another’s soul and chosen to dive in.
1. Spring Moon
In the spring of ’74, I was thirteen, crossing the country on a pop-group tour bus, rushing through the night toward the middle of nowhere. As the bus zoomed into the darkness, I caught a glimpse of her reflection in the window, and I finally understood what it meant to be in love.
That painful discovery was like a fire igniting within, burning me from the inside with bright, glorious flames. Alone in the back seat, with tears trembling at the edges of my eyes, I was painfully ablaze. In that moment, I was ripped from the comfortable safety of my childhood and thrown into the frightening unknown of coming of age.
A bittersweet enigma of hopelessness and joy completely changed my perception of life. I was left confused, unsure how to navigate this paradox of hope and despair, or what to do with this brand-new awareness. Under the glow of a massive spring moon, I suffered the gentle mockery of the well-meaning adults around me. Everyone seemed to understand what was happening but me.
Rocked by the steady rolling bus, I eventually drifted into dreams of a future that could never be. Before I slept, I received a gentle promise that everything would be easier one day and a soft kiss on the top of my head from the first and the last—as I believed then—love of my already long life.
2. Summer Moon
At the end of the summer of ’80, I was nineteen, exuberant and young. Classes had just finished, and I was heading toward the exit. The university was teeming with students—likely bright futures running in every direction, a confusing, colourful ballet performed amidst an indecipherable cacophony of happy background noise.
I was navigating the crowd on the stairs when I was struck by a pair of emerald-green eyes, shining with a radiant pure joy. I nearly tumbled headfirst. In that timeless split second when I lost my footing, I saw those smiling eyes fly open in fear. In the next heartbeat, as I recovered my balance to stay upright, I fell deeper in love than I ever imagined possible. In a spark of understanding, I realised that until that moment, I hadn’t truly been alive; I had merely been breathing in the shadows of life.
One going down, the other up, turning our heads, searching for each other’s gaze with a grin of recognition.
That instant led to a shared complicity that moved us into a private world fed by hopes and dreams. Before long, we built a love that burned like a furnace, neither aware nor caring that such fires end only in ecstasy or charred remains.
My Selene, the most beautiful woman in the universe, with her shining aura, was an explosion of soft light in the darkness of my life. She left her moon to come to me, to explain to me with that first kiss why I existed. To say, "my Selene" was the wrong way to put it because I didn't own her; I belonged to her, body, heart and soul.
Together we were indestructible, invincible, until a monster called Glioblastoma took my Selene back to her moon, and as the lights faded out, her Endymion fled back to the darkness, into sleep, to dream about that sweet first kiss.
3. Autumn Moon
In the autumn of ’96, sitting on a park bench in another town, another country, another continent, I watched the Hunter’s Moon slowly pour its golden-crimson liquid colours over the trees and listened to the wind. Greenish shadows danced among the foliage, and the spirits of the night rose to remind me that I was alone.
Listening carefully, I could still hear the crystalline laughter from the days we ran through life together, certain that we could run as hard as we wished and that our hearts could never break. But they did.
Suddenly, an excited Golden Retriever appeared out of nowhere, dragging a leash attached to his collar at one end, but loose at the other. Its "attachment" came running a few seconds later, panting, with anguish written across her face. The fear in her features turned to relief when she saw me holding the end of the leash.
The furnace of my youth had become a single candle among the ashes of loss; a dim light winking, burning out slowly, yet a flame nonetheless. Under that Hunter’s Moon, I found a different kind of love—softer, milder—and despite the guilt—to which I surrendered without a fight because life had become a whisper in a dream that had to go on.
4. Winter Moon
Back where it all started!
The impossibly low ceiling of grey, heavy clouds choked the world’s light. Tyres splashing stifled the screams of the seagulls and the voices of the passing crowd. The smell of exhaust fumes and wet leaves smothered the ephemeral scent of a cigarette or a sweet perfume drifting on the wind.
The stream of floating black umbrellas—a thousand muffled drums in the distance—massed together, a dark, rolling wave that swallowed the pavement hiding my path.
City lights shimmered in the wet pavement—bright red streaks from a taillight, the yellow warmth of a shop window. The intermittent glow illuminated my thoughts, resurrecting the forgotten quiet streets we ran side by side, and making the silence beside me painfully real.
The old cinema theatre was closed, its broken displays still holding faded posters of famous movies and already dead starlets.
Wandering, I passed the bright, once-favourite café, now a dirty den for impoverished, unemployed, and retired workers.
Walking these ancient streets, heavy rain washing away the present, I stopped in wonder before the window opening into the past, and I saw the old neighbourhoods where we learned to surrender our love.
Yet time, relentless and without shame, showed little mercy; doors and windows, here and there, were boarded up, wild graffiti defaced dirty walls, and rust ate iron fences.
Once, there was a girl who used to wonder what she would become. One day, like this one, she left me for the unknown. Now she's just a memory, and this is just a place where we used to live.
In this other town, here in the dust we left behind, washed by the rain, there is not a trace of us anymore. Everything is gone.
But my tired heart clings to memories.
I keep walking, pulled by a magnetic current of low emotions, dragging me toward my destination. I stopped at the bridge and stood over the dark waters, defying Time, which hurled abuse and painful little truths into my thoughts.
Inside myself, while outside I could feel the winter wind, a gentle summer breeze carrying the sound of soft laughter pushed me forward.
As I stood there, contemplating life through her eyes, knowing how hard it had been, my heart broke under the approaching winter moon and its final, fading light.
Broken and emptied, I simply wait beneath the shades of winter clouds.
I wait for her to come creeping through my soul upon the wings of a gentle kiss, telling me to say goodbye to never-ending sorrows, blowing them away as if they were nothing but a wisp of smoke.
Time passes. Lonely nights have become a desired habit as the days slowly fade, one after another, leaving only the sound of my own breathing as the light goes out.
I search within myself for reasons to scream in amazement when I feel the ember that still burns to this day. I dream, trying to understand why we call this pain true love.
It is called true love because it fills the hollow ache where your heart used to be.
It is called true love because it was the first time you cried so hard you couldn't breathe—the first time you felt completely helpless, reaching out to grasp happiness only to realise it was a mist slipping through your fingers.
It is because you blamed yourself for something that was never your fault, or perhaps for the "fault" of loving too much.
It’s true because you dive blindly into the abyss of that love, forgetting the old warning: If you look into the abyss, be careful, for the abyss can look back, and you jump head-on.
Separated by the eternity of love, we became two lost souls in the darkness of forever, searching for each other.
I would tear my soul apart to cease this memory that I have treasured so hopelessly, just to stay alive while I wait for the Winter Moon to take me to my Selene.
Say a prayer for those lost souls.
September 3, 2013
A short but complex book. I probably spent far too little time reflecting on Solovyov's thought, but this was still a rewarding read and would make a great book for group discussion.
September 7, 2022
كتاب بشكل عام جميل ومفيد
ما أشوفه فلسفي كثر ما هو علمي؛ بس هو الكاتب مزج بين فلسفته الشخصية مع علوم الحياة الفيزيائية والدينية وحتى البيئية
يحتاج تركيز عالي لاستيعاب المكتوب
أنا كقارئة ضعت في القراءة بسبب طرحه لفكره وتكرارها مع أكثر من تفسير وفرضية
بعد انتهائي منه ما أضمن فهمي الكامل له أشوف إنه كتاب احتاج لترتيب أكثر وتبسيط أو وضوح للأفكار المذكورة
يحمل معلومات وأفكار جميلة ونادرة بالنسبة لي وهذا شي استمتعت فيه على الأقل
ما أشوفه فلسفي كثر ما هو علمي؛ بس هو الكاتب مزج بين فلسفته الشخصية مع علوم الحياة الفيزيائية والدينية وحتى البيئية
يحتاج تركيز عالي لاستيعاب المكتوب
أنا كقارئة ضعت في القراءة بسبب طرحه لفكره وتكرارها مع أكثر من تفسير وفرضية
بعد انتهائي منه ما أضمن فهمي الكامل له أشوف إنه كتاب احتاج لترتيب أكثر وتبسيط أو وضوح للأفكار المذكورة
يحمل معلومات وأفكار جميلة ونادرة بالنسبة لي وهذا شي استمتعت فيه على الأقل
September 15, 2020
When Solovyov talks about love, he manages to describe the structure of the world, universe's being, human being, the meaning of existence, to criticize Freud, and it's still about love. Just Great.
October 15, 2025
A sublime expression of the profundity of what is ordinarily called "romantic" love. Only such seriousness can make sense of that phenomenon used as the ultimate image of love in the Song of Songs. I wholeheartedly recommend this to anyone.
Here are some extracts:
The meaning of human love, speaking generally, is the justification and salvation of individuality through the sacrifice of egoism. On this general basis we can also complete our particular task: to explain the meaning of sexual love. For good reason sexual relations are not merely termed love, but are also generally acknowledged to represent love par excellence, being the type and ideal of all other kinds of love (cf. the Song of Songs and the Apocalypse). (chapter 2.3)
The task of love consists in justifying in deed that meaning of love which at first is given only in feeling. It demands such a union of two given finite natures as would create out of them one absolute ideal personality. (chapter 3.1)
True spiritual love is not a feeble imitation and anticipation of death, but a triumph over death, not a separation of the immortal from the mortal, of the eternal from the temporal, but a transfiguration of the mortal into the immortal, the acceptance of the temporal into the eternal. False spirituality is a denial of the flesh; true spirituality is the regeneration of the flesh, its salvation, its resurrection from the dead. (chapter 4.4)
By steadfast, believing and insightful love, however, we know that this idea is not an arbitrary fiction of our own, but that it expresses the truth of the object, only a truth as yet not realized in the sphere of external, real phenomena. (chapter 4.6)
This living ideal of the Divine love, antecedent to our love, contains in itself the secret of the idealization of our love. In it the idealization of the lower being exists together with an incipient realization of the higher, and in this is the truth of love's intense emotion. Complete realization, the transformation of the individual feminine being into the ray of the eternal Divine femininity, inseparable from its resplendent source, will be a real, not merely subjective but also objective, reunion of the individual human being with God, the restoration in him of the living and immortal Divine image. (chapter 4.7)
This bond between the living human source (personal) and the unity-of-the-all idea incarnated in the social spiritual-physical organism, ought to be a living syzygetic relation. It ought not to be subjected to its communal sphere or to dominate it, but to be in loving reciprocity with it, to serve as its active fertilizing source of motion and to find in it the fulness of life's conditions and possibilities—such is the relation of the true human individuality, not only to its immediate social environment and to its nation, but also to the whole of humanity. (chapter 5.4)
Here are some extracts:
The meaning of human love, speaking generally, is the justification and salvation of individuality through the sacrifice of egoism. On this general basis we can also complete our particular task: to explain the meaning of sexual love. For good reason sexual relations are not merely termed love, but are also generally acknowledged to represent love par excellence, being the type and ideal of all other kinds of love (cf. the Song of Songs and the Apocalypse). (chapter 2.3)
The task of love consists in justifying in deed that meaning of love which at first is given only in feeling. It demands such a union of two given finite natures as would create out of them one absolute ideal personality. (chapter 3.1)
True spiritual love is not a feeble imitation and anticipation of death, but a triumph over death, not a separation of the immortal from the mortal, of the eternal from the temporal, but a transfiguration of the mortal into the immortal, the acceptance of the temporal into the eternal. False spirituality is a denial of the flesh; true spirituality is the regeneration of the flesh, its salvation, its resurrection from the dead. (chapter 4.4)
By steadfast, believing and insightful love, however, we know that this idea is not an arbitrary fiction of our own, but that it expresses the truth of the object, only a truth as yet not realized in the sphere of external, real phenomena. (chapter 4.6)
This living ideal of the Divine love, antecedent to our love, contains in itself the secret of the idealization of our love. In it the idealization of the lower being exists together with an incipient realization of the higher, and in this is the truth of love's intense emotion. Complete realization, the transformation of the individual feminine being into the ray of the eternal Divine femininity, inseparable from its resplendent source, will be a real, not merely subjective but also objective, reunion of the individual human being with God, the restoration in him of the living and immortal Divine image. (chapter 4.7)
This bond between the living human source (personal) and the unity-of-the-all idea incarnated in the social spiritual-physical organism, ought to be a living syzygetic relation. It ought not to be subjected to its communal sphere or to dominate it, but to be in loving reciprocity with it, to serve as its active fertilizing source of motion and to find in it the fulness of life's conditions and possibilities—such is the relation of the true human individuality, not only to its immediate social environment and to its nation, but also to the whole of humanity. (chapter 5.4)
August 26, 2026
ينظر سولوفيوف إلى الحب من زاوية فلسفية أعمق من العاطفة والانجذاب ؛ وعدم إختزاله في الرغبة أو الإنجاب؛ فالحب عنده تجربة أوسع، تقوم على رؤية الآخر كقيمة مستقلة، لا كامتداد لنا...
.
كما أن المحب لا يرى الآخر كما هو فقط ، بل يرى فيه ما يمكن أن يكونه ، ولهذا يحمل الحب شيئًا من المثالية.
.
غير أن قوة الشعور وحدها لا تكفي؛ فالحب يفشل حين يبقى انفعالًا عابرًا ولا يتحول إلى فعل مستمر يتجاوز الأنانية .
كتاب بديـع ✨
.
كما أن المحب لا يرى الآخر كما هو فقط ، بل يرى فيه ما يمكن أن يكونه ، ولهذا يحمل الحب شيئًا من المثالية.
.
غير أن قوة الشعور وحدها لا تكفي؛ فالحب يفشل حين يبقى انفعالًا عابرًا ولا يتحول إلى فعل مستمر يتجاوز الأنانية .
كتاب بديـع ✨
July 28, 2020
U pravu je Solovjev. Mogu samo dodati kao zaključak i ujedno sažetak cjele knjige da je smisao ljubavi isto toliko individualan koliko i univerzalan.
May 11, 2022
Klein maar fijn esoterisch pareltje wat je volgens mij het beste kunt plaatsen in de gnostische traditie. Aan de ene kant is het een soort ontmoeting van Oost en West, maar het is zeker geen orthodox gedachtegoed. Een soort liefdesliedje aan het universum of de aarde. Solovjov hield er interessante ideeën op na, wellicht ook gedeeltelijk in navolging van Hegel. Het hogere doel wat de liefde volgens hem dient, er komt wat natuurkunde en darwinisme bij kijken, is de vergeestelijking van de materie. Veel vakterminologie, maar het ideale of de hogere creatieve macht van de liefde is scheppend (nieuwe mens). Natuurlijk wel alleen tussen man en vrouw dan. De liefde bevrijdt ons van egoïsme, het overwint de individualiteit. Het gaat dus over het realiseren van het goddelijke beeld in de mens, en dit gebeurt door ware liefde. Voor pure voortplanting is in principe geen liefde vereist. Dat doen dieren ook. Het hoogste principe van de liefde is voor Solovjov vereniging met God. Waarbij de mannelijke en vrouwelijke principes ook verenigd moeten worden. Zie die vereniging eerder als symbiose, een wederkerigheid.
''True life is to live in another as in oneself''.
In het laatste hoofdstuk wordt het echt behoorlijk esoterisch als het gaat over een soort van eenwording met de kosmos. Een liefdevolle relatie met de natuur wordt vooropgesteld, de scheppende kracht in de natuur is dezelfde als de creativiteit in de mens. Vrij ingewikkeld wordt het als hij het heeft over het eeuwig vrouwelijke principe, wat hij niet echt verduidelijkt. Solovjov haalt in dit verband ook de Bijbel aan die vaak naar de mensheid refereert als zijnde de bruid van Christus. Het wordt bijna een soort mysticisme als hij het daarna heeft over een syzygystische eenheid. Dat wil zeggen een soort samenvallen, waarvan het eindproces een wereldwijde eenwording is. Natuurlijk is dit niet zo simpel, en dit ziet Solovjov ook in. We zijn afgesloten, materieel en geïsoleerd. Maar elk individueel leven bevat een klein vonkje van het alles ( het universum zullen we maar zeggen). En in dit inzicht valt Solovjov weer volledig samen met wat de moderne natuurkunde hierover zegt. Helaas ziet hij wel een soort Hegeliaanse historische perfectie die langzaam bereikt wordt in de geschiedenis, dat wil zeggen in het bereiken van de eenwording.
''In sexual love, truly understood and truly realized, this Divine essence receives the means for its definitive, ultimate incarnation in the life of a human''
Het concept van het vrouwelijke als iets verheffends komt trouwens wel vaker terug in de Russische literatuur. Zie bijvoorbeeld Olga in Oblomov, die de geïdealiseerde liefde bereikt met Stoltz. Solovjov had het ook vaker over Sophia, een soort vrouwe Wijsheid als bij Boethius die hem visioenen verschafte. In Spreuken komt die figuur van de Wijsheid ook terug trouwens.
Vreemd genoeg sloot het voor mij aardig aan bij Lucretius, hij wordt zelfs een keer aangehaald!
''True life is to live in another as in oneself''.
In het laatste hoofdstuk wordt het echt behoorlijk esoterisch als het gaat over een soort van eenwording met de kosmos. Een liefdevolle relatie met de natuur wordt vooropgesteld, de scheppende kracht in de natuur is dezelfde als de creativiteit in de mens. Vrij ingewikkeld wordt het als hij het heeft over het eeuwig vrouwelijke principe, wat hij niet echt verduidelijkt. Solovjov haalt in dit verband ook de Bijbel aan die vaak naar de mensheid refereert als zijnde de bruid van Christus. Het wordt bijna een soort mysticisme als hij het daarna heeft over een syzygystische eenheid. Dat wil zeggen een soort samenvallen, waarvan het eindproces een wereldwijde eenwording is. Natuurlijk is dit niet zo simpel, en dit ziet Solovjov ook in. We zijn afgesloten, materieel en geïsoleerd. Maar elk individueel leven bevat een klein vonkje van het alles ( het universum zullen we maar zeggen). En in dit inzicht valt Solovjov weer volledig samen met wat de moderne natuurkunde hierover zegt. Helaas ziet hij wel een soort Hegeliaanse historische perfectie die langzaam bereikt wordt in de geschiedenis, dat wil zeggen in het bereiken van de eenwording.
''In sexual love, truly understood and truly realized, this Divine essence receives the means for its definitive, ultimate incarnation in the life of a human''
Het concept van het vrouwelijke als iets verheffends komt trouwens wel vaker terug in de Russische literatuur. Zie bijvoorbeeld Olga in Oblomov, die de geïdealiseerde liefde bereikt met Stoltz. Solovjov had het ook vaker over Sophia, een soort vrouwe Wijsheid als bij Boethius die hem visioenen verschafte. In Spreuken komt die figuur van de Wijsheid ook terug trouwens.
Vreemd genoeg sloot het voor mij aardig aan bij Lucretius, hij wordt zelfs een keer aangehaald!
March 7, 2024
حكاية الحب والوجود بين التماهي والمركزية، تجربة أولى لسولوفيوف ولن تكون الأخيرة بإذن الله ..
كتاب قصير إنما بليغ يحتاج لتركيز عالٍ وحضور متّقد بالأسئلة والنظر في عمق التفاصيل، فلسفة الحب بوصفه طريق نحو تحرير الإنسان من الأنانية نحو الفرادنية التي تأخذ بيده نحو الوجود عن طريق الخيال والإيمان هي نظرة لافتة ووجهة نظر عميقة ومؤثرة. لكن سولوفيوف ترك اختياره للمصطلح الواصِف للحب، وسيلة الإيمان لتحقيق وجوده ونتاج هذه النظرة خارج أُطر ما تم شرحه هنا كذلك كنت أتمنى أن أقرأ أكثر عن تأثره بالكبالا رغم كثرة استشهاداته الإنجيلية.
وأخيراً فيما لو رأى الهشاشة اللغوية، والانغماس الأنانية في اللذة لإنسان العصر الحديث أكان ليتراجع عن نظرية التحسن بفضل الإنجاب وفقا لاحتمالات المستقبلة التي تحل محل معطيات الماضي بين البشر؟
كتاب مثري رائع لا أستطيع التوقف عن الحديث عنه وهو من أفضل ما قرأت ولمن يريد مواساة عن مفهوم الحب ومعناه عن الحلم وتبعاته فليقرأ هذا الكتاب الزاخر.
كتاب قصير إنما بليغ يحتاج لتركيز عالٍ وحضور متّقد بالأسئلة والنظر في عمق التفاصيل، فلسفة الحب بوصفه طريق نحو تحرير الإنسان من الأنانية نحو الفرادنية التي تأخذ بيده نحو الوجود عن طريق الخيال والإيمان هي نظرة لافتة ووجهة نظر عميقة ومؤثرة. لكن سولوفيوف ترك اختياره للمصطلح الواصِف للحب، وسيلة الإيمان لتحقيق وجوده ونتاج هذه النظرة خارج أُطر ما تم شرحه هنا كذلك كنت أتمنى أن أقرأ أكثر عن تأثره بالكبالا رغم كثرة استشهاداته الإنجيلية.
وأخيراً فيما لو رأى الهشاشة اللغوية، والانغماس الأنانية في اللذة لإنسان العصر الحديث أكان ليتراجع عن نظرية التحسن بفضل الإنجاب وفقا لاحتمالات المستقبلة التي تحل محل معطيات الماضي بين البشر؟
كتاب مثري رائع لا أستطيع التوقف عن الحديث عنه وهو من أفضل ما قرأت ولمن يريد مواساة عن مفهوم الحب ومعناه عن الحلم وتبعاته فليقرأ هذا الكتاب الزاخر.
August 11, 2021
Not without its merits or its beautiful passages, but in the main somewhat dull.
June 9, 2024
كتاب فلسفي رائع يحكي في الكاتب عن معني الحب من وجهة نظره وارتباط الحب بالجنس وتنوع الحب ومنظور الفردانية داخل العلاقة
انصح به بشدة
انصح به بشدة
December 26, 2025
It was interesting to read a book like this by a Russian author. I know that Russia's contributions to Esoteric Christian thought are substantial, but I've never read any such author directly. With the caveat that my knowledge of all of these authors is based on translations of their works, it reminded me of something by Rudolf Steiner, or Valentin Tomberg - especially if the latter truncated the amount of references to other authors.
an argument that stood out to me was about how romantic love as humans experience it differs significantly from the mating and procreative processes of animals. he made an interesting observation that mammals and birds seem to embody different composite elements of the romantic process in the animal kingdom, and that what humans experience envelops both. i am still getting used to Christian thinkers who are convinced of the veracity of the evolutionary process, and I appreciated that his arguments took evolution for granted in the context of humanity's development.
the subsequent chapters became much more abstract, but i appreciated his reasoning. his commentary on the nature of Sophia - personified wisdom - was interesting; i knew that was coming, but it flowed naturally in terms of pacing.
the topic of romance is not really pertinent to my day-to-day existence at the time i read this book, but i am glad i have a copy and imagine it will carry more weight when i revisit it at a later chapter of life.
an argument that stood out to me was about how romantic love as humans experience it differs significantly from the mating and procreative processes of animals. he made an interesting observation that mammals and birds seem to embody different composite elements of the romantic process in the animal kingdom, and that what humans experience envelops both. i am still getting used to Christian thinkers who are convinced of the veracity of the evolutionary process, and I appreciated that his arguments took evolution for granted in the context of humanity's development.
the subsequent chapters became much more abstract, but i appreciated his reasoning. his commentary on the nature of Sophia - personified wisdom - was interesting; i knew that was coming, but it flowed naturally in terms of pacing.
the topic of romance is not really pertinent to my day-to-day existence at the time i read this book, but i am glad i have a copy and imagine it will carry more weight when i revisit it at a later chapter of life.
October 4, 2025
I must say, this is sometimes very difficult to read and other times full of gems and good, deep nuggets. I am happy I read "Sex at Dawn" before, as I right away found the perfect description of the argument against that book inside here, written over 100 years prior. It is difficult to place this book; I surely need a reread if I were to delve deeper into the issue of love - and here - sexual love. I think today's theology has things to learn from it still.
Want to Read
March 24, 2026Thank you to exam duty for allowing me to catch up on my reading.
I'm gonna reread this sometime, I didn't follow one hundred percent of his argument all the way through the text. My main take away is that Solovyov was probably a freak in the sheets.
I'm gonna reread this sometime, I didn't follow one hundred percent of his argument all the way through the text. My main take away is that Solovyov was probably a freak in the sheets.
September 18, 2019
Una muy buena introducción a la manera de concebir el mundo fuera de la estructura occidental.
July 24, 2022
Nisam je previše razumio. Dijelovi koje sam razumio bili su mi odlični. Treba čitati jako sporo, paragraf po paragraf.
January 26, 2024
The first few chapters were surprising in that they didn't read like a book from the nineteenth century. But the later chapters I just didn't find engaging.
June 11, 2024
Затрагивает много интересных тем, но перепрыгивает с темы на тему быстро, какой-то интеллектуальный паркур
July 22, 2025
Very interesting.
August 31, 2026
Felt like pseudo-philosophy with no clear logic.
September 16, 2009
This man affected many of the Russian Symbolists--contemporary of Doestoyevsky and part of his circle. The same kind of gnostic mystical vision that trembles in Doestoyevsky's work--and was the underpinning of poets like Blok.
****
Man as the crown of creation shtick sticks in my craw. Wish he'd get on with it.
****
If it doesn't get better in like ten pages, I'm out.
****
Okay, that's it. This is one of those books I want someone else to read for me and tell me what it's about. I know there's intriguing stuff here (hence the two stars), but I can't breathe for holding my nose through all this notion that man is evolution's end-point, that all of creation was only a precursor for man. Can't get to whatever it is he has of such value to say. It's not a writer's fault for being a creature of his time, and it's not fair for me to overlay my modern relativism and new understanding of ecology on this guy from the 1870's. But. I can't. Read. It.
****
Man as the crown of creation shtick sticks in my craw. Wish he'd get on with it.
****
If it doesn't get better in like ten pages, I'm out.
****
Okay, that's it. This is one of those books I want someone else to read for me and tell me what it's about. I know there's intriguing stuff here (hence the two stars), but I can't breathe for holding my nose through all this notion that man is evolution's end-point, that all of creation was only a precursor for man. Can't get to whatever it is he has of such value to say. It's not a writer's fault for being a creature of his time, and it's not fair for me to overlay my modern relativism and new understanding of ecology on this guy from the 1870's. But. I can't. Read. It.
September 3, 2021
Well this is a book that must be read given the time, society and beliefs (before ever existing sociobiology, non-heterosexual relations were not allowed, women served man and that was their only purpose, among other ideas). It is a trenchant and against almost all today we believe it is true. At the same time, it is humbling to think that our own thought-forms might be equally provincial and outdated.
According this author, love between men and women (and this the only natural sexual love, being only between bodies that complete each other) has a component of mystical transfiguration of the world, leading the man out of its own egoism and into a higher state.
I wonder what he would think if he came into this century.
According this author, love between men and women (and this the only natural sexual love, being only between bodies that complete each other) has a component of mystical transfiguration of the world, leading the man out of its own egoism and into a higher state.
I wonder what he would think if he came into this century.
August 2, 2013
"True love is hat which not only affirms in subjective feeling the absolute significance of human individuality in another and in oneself, but also justifies this absolute significance in reality, really rescues us from the inevitability of death and fills out our life with an absolute content."
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