A History of the Human Condition ~ Gilgamesh and Tolstoy

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I first read the Epic of Gilgamesh when I was fourteen-years-old out of sheer curiosity. As one of the oldest recorded stories of our time, written on tablets of Sumerian cuneiform, I wanted to understand the significance it brought to society today. It's not like sitting in front of the computer and blogging restaurant reviews. This was a burdensome process. Better yet, what was so important about the story that it had managed to be translated for us thousands of years later?

I had the pleasure of reading a seasoned copy from the library, pages frayed by thousands of hands over the years. The text was marked up with scholarly notes and highlights, no doubt used for classwork at some point. The first entertaining contribution was made during Enkidu and the harlot's romp in the hay.

"For six days and seven nights they lay together, for Enkidu had forgotten his home in the hills." -The Epic of Gilgamesh

I laughed myself to tears reading the double underlined notes in the margin deeming it was, "Physically impossible."

What a killjoy...

Then it occurred to me that this was an important connection between the past and the present. I also concluded that men have greatly exaggerated their capabilities since the beginning of time but that's none of my business...

Giphy

Everyone has their own view on why we write. To me, it's a record of the human condition. This was even more apparent when I had to do a cultural analysis on The Death of Ivan Ilyich by Leo Tolstoy. Everything contributing to Ivan's turmoil was somehow rooted in this cultural setting whether it was views on religion, death, the afterlife, or the duties in which he was socially bound that kept him from feeling purposefully complete in the end.

When we look to the past, we see that in all eras and around the world we are not all that different. We write about love. We write about family. We write about the quest. We question the meaning for our existence, our purpose. We even challenge the world around us. I can't help but think where we would be without the mind of a young girl, a dreamer, keeping a diary in the heart of World War II. This girl would later be known around the world as Anne Frank, and the tragedy of so many lives cut short at the hands of hate. To me, this means that while we might be going through similar struggles, we might think that our thoughts never really matter. No one else has the power to think the way you think. No one has the power to see through your eyes. Every piece I come in contact with has the potential to broaden our minds or consider another perspective. In my opinion, we owe it to the human condition.

Keep calm and Steem / Read on...

Epic of Gilgamesh full text