War and Peace 🍃🕊️
A Book That Grew With Me
When people hear I’ve read War and Peace many times, they look at me like I’ve lost my mind. It’s long, dense, and often labeled boring. But to me, it’s not just a book — it’s a mirror of life, growing with me through every stage of my own transformation. (And yes, I’m a total bookworm; books are my comfort food. The ones I love, I return to again and again, like old friends. I don’t just read them once; I live with them, reread them, and grow with them.)
The first time I read it, I approached it like a storybook. I didn’t yet have the stillness, nor had my brain developed enough to truly understand what I was reading. It wasn’t until I began to process the suffering and joy of life that the characters came alive. I didn’t just see their choices; I felt their inner battles. My heart had become stiller, and in that stillness, War and Peace opened up to me in a different way.
I began to see that suffering isn’t just something that happens to us — it’s part of life’s rhythm, woven into love, loss, change, and time. But we are not powerless. As a child, I had few choices; I couldn’t shape my circumstances. And yet, even in childhood, there are small, quiet ways of influencing one’s inner world, decisions, or future path — through curiosity, resilience, kindness. As I grew, I began to understand that I could choose how to respond — and learn from each circumstance. The journey hasn’t been smooth, but each fall has taught me something, and each time, I rise a little stronger, a little wiser. This is what Tolstoy showed me through his characters: that even in the darkest moments, human beings carry the quiet strength to reflect, to grow, to love, and to find meaning.
But War and Peace is not only about suffering. It’s also about clarity — the kind that comes when you truly see what matters. Through the eyes of Pierre, Andrei, Maria, and Nikolai — deeply human characters — it asks: What if we stopped chasing what society tells us is important? What if we let go of fear and ego? What if we slowed down enough to notice the simple things — a field, a quiet meal, a sincere conversation — and let those moments shape our lives? My life hasn’t been easy, but happiness has always been with me.
