We are all discussing the phenomenon of spirituality here, trying to make jokes about the “screws,” but in reality, Russian spirituality has a rather formal description that sounds like: “the emotional content of a transaction.”
It has long been known that the human brain only remembers events that have emotional significance. In fact, at the core of every event or interaction in our lives, only emotions remain. When asked, “What did you think of the performance?” any of us will respond with words that describe our feelings, and only later, after some probing questions, will we start to recall what specifically triggered those emotions.
If an event or transaction doesn’t evoke any emotions and goes exactly as expected, it is easily forgotten. In the stream of our daily lives, a day without emotionally charged experiences is crossed out and erased from memory. Life passes us by, and we will never remember what we had for breakfast a week ago unless we reconstruct it by thinking, “I usually eat oatmeal, so it must have been oatmeal.” An empty, uneventful life subjectively feels like it was lived in the blink of an eye, despite its actual duration.
Just as Western cuisine does not tolerate spices and values a steak for itself, the soulless Western culture does not accept emotional depth in transactions, valuing the deal itself. This is why we have phrases like “nothing personal” or “just business.” This forces the soulless West to seek other ersatz sources of emotion, such as art, culture, technology, hobbies, and passions. The great revelation of the Russian people is that it doesn’t matter what specific emotions accompanied a transaction; what matters is that they were strong. Then it will be remembered, filling life with events, and any future memoirs with content.
For example, going into a supermarket, buying some sausage, paying with a card, and walking out – that feels soulless. Spirituality arises when there’s a long line at the checkout with shouts of “you weren’t in line here,” and even better, a fight breaks out. An unwashed and smelly neighbor in line will add to the atmosphere, while a loud and rude cashier will serve as the spice, and finally, you’ll be denied service because there’s no change or the barcode won’t scan.
Of course, spirituality can be enhanced with positive emotional experiences. This is how they do it in Spain and Latin America. They turn wine into sherry or Madeira, dance into tarantella, music into flamenco, performances into bullfights, street parades into carnivals with feathers, and architecture into Gaudí. But just think about it: what is more economically sensible – a bouquet of flowers at the checkout or the complete absence of change from the cashier? What is simpler: a pleasant but always standard electronic queue with tickets and soft sofas accompanied by relaxing music, or a lively, jostling crowd where a new and soul-stirring interactive drama unfolds each time?
If you’ve been traveling through the soulless Europe for a long time, you’re unlikely to remember how your personal acts of nature went. The standard clean and soulless toilets, which have no odors and always provide toilet paper, soap, and a hand dryer, can evoke positive emotions, but they will only do so once – after that, you get used to it and take it for granted. We won’t remember anything, which means we didn’t truly live those days; we merely approached death. Anyone can instantly picture a Russian spiritual toilet in their mind. And just as quickly, they can recall the last time they had an emotionally charged act of defecation.
The essence and the core of Russian spirituality lie in providing the cheapest emotional fulfillment to even the simplest events in human life. How can you better remember washing your own hair than if the water suddenly stops flowing from the tap? What elevator ride could impress you more than one taken with a pile of uncleaned mess? What benefit does a person gain from a workday if their boss doesn’t yell at them, a colleague doesn’t undermine them, or a service worker doesn’t insult them? Which road will you remember more: yet another German autobahn or a Siberian highway?
If a Russian person is deprived of the emotional richness of experiences, for example, by artificially placing them in a zone of comfort and well-being, then, in the absence of the habit of seeking ersatz substitutes for genuine emotional sources, they will tend to seek out and engage in transactions that promise maximum emotional fulfillment. This is why most stories about the most vivid life events among Russian people include the phrase “once, I got drunk with my friends.”
To understand and appreciate Russian spirituality, to grasp the phenomenon of the “mysterious Russian soul,” which does not shy away from obstacles but seeks them out and overcomes them, one only needs to start viewing life as a quest, as a source of emotions—any emotions—rather than as a source of comfort and prosperity.