I related readily with Ivan Ilyich, the main character in Leo Tolstoy’s The Death of Ivan Ilyich. There was a time when I myself lived my life without regard to the spirituality of life. I, however, was very lucky in that it did not take death looming over my head to realize this. Maybe the fact that my bout of depression’s onset happened sooner in life allowed me to see it sooner. Eric Simpson put it best as “We all die, like Ilyich, and if we only live to live, to create and carve our own meaning into the universe, then life itself becomes ultimately meaningless and painfully insignificant.”The key point here is the “painfully insignificant”(Simpson). Depression snuck up on me like old age will, forty times quicker. Ilyich manages to cover his depression by compartmentalizing his feelings from his thoughts and by becoming a workaholic. Doing this, he had a means of either dismissing his depression or drowning it in work. Ivan Ilyich did not notice his depression and lack of spirituality until three days prior to his death. It is not until Ilyich asks himself, “What if my whole life has really been wrong?”(Tolstoy 1203), and comes up with an affirmitave answer that Ilyich tries to find a way to rectify his situation. His solution is painfully simple, spare his family the heartache of his dying and to just get it over with.My solution was quite different. I came up with two simple rules. The number one rule of feeling better is to help strangers whenever possible. For example, last Wednesday, my car broke down on Route 7. I did not have a cell-phone and there wasn’t a payphone in sight. Since I had a paper due, I started hitchhiking to class. After about five minutes of walking, a middle-aged woman with her two preschoolers picked me up. Asking what made her stop, she replied, “I don’t think I would have slept so well knowing I left a student walk to class down a six-la...
