This past fall I blogged about Konstantin Dmitrievitch Levin, a central character from Leo Tolstoy’s Anna Karenina. In the blog, “Kostya” or Levin, faces his own mortality through the illness plaguing his brother, Nikolai. Nine months later I revisit Levin as he and I both reflect upon a life of purpose.

In the closing pages of this masterpiece Levin is caught in the struggle to find meaning and purpose in his life. Having watched his brother die, he is struck by his own mortality and seeks to understand the divide between his spiritual aspirations and the dullness of his “ordinary actual life.”  Prior to his Nikolai’s death, Levin was immune to these questions and in his simplicity of living a committed and thoughtful existence, he found purpose. His work ethic and generally hopeful disposition laid the groundwork for a life oriented to self-definition through hard work and connection to community. His brother’s passing shook this world and it is only through a period of unsettled reflection that he comes to understand what he believes. It is this final chapter, while looking at the Milky Way that Levin shares his wisdom and recognizes the universality of his experience, his emotions, and his being;  and in this recognition he finds both solace and comfort.

“This new feeling has not changed me, has not made me happy and enlightened all of a sudden, as I had dreamed, just like the feeling for my child. There was no surprise in this either. Faith – or not faith – I don’t know what it is – but this feeling has come just as imperceptibly through suffering, and has taken firm root in my soul.”

This description is followed by the knowledge that he will continue to err and be human in his relationships, something he initially hoped and believed might be cured by further developing his spiritual side through a more profound understanding of himself.

“… I shall go on in the same way, losing my temper with Ivan the coachman… I shall still go on scolding her [his wife] for my own terror, and being remorseful for it; I shall still be as unable to understand with my reason why I pray, and I shall still go on praying…

It is in this moment that he knows he doesn’t have to fully comprehend and that he cannot reason his way to understanding or to faith. He has learned rather that because his soul, his conscience, is fit to know both right and wrong, and guides him to these, he is able to live with purpose and can choose to do so.

“… but my life now, my whole life apart from anything that can happen to me, every minute of it is not more meaningless, as it was before, but it has the positive meaning of goodness, which I have the power to put into it.”

Today I listened as a community of people gathered to celebrate the life of Mike Dawes, a colleague and friend of mine. I listened in awe as his friends and family rejoiced in the life he’d lived, in the wisdom he’d shared, in the purpose he’d derived from his connections to everyone. It was one of the most beautiful tributes I’ve ever participated in and I feel grateful for the opportunity to both have known Mike, but to have been among his family and dear friends as they commemorated him.

As I listened to his closest friends and his son, I gladly revisited memories of the man across the hall. Mike’s office was paper-airplane-distance-flight from mine and I could always hear his booming voice greeting students, guffawing with colleagues, or challenging parents. Mike put the “positive meaning of goodness” into everything he did, whether that was fishing and spending time with family, or speaking to young people about life’s great opportunities. His life and his legacy was one of intentional celebration and gratitude, of love and laughter.

Today, I am reminded, like Levin, that I have the power to put goodness and positivity into my life. Thanks for that reminder Mike.

Best, John