Episode 7: Reflections from the Underground

Domatia, Greece An episode about grappling with disconnection, doubt, and existential dread, and the fragile balance between isolation and connection. About finding the courage to reach beyond the walls we build within ourselves.

EPISODE TRANSCRIPTS

G. Michalis Papadopoulos

3/27/20257 min read

What would a life lived entirely inside your head feel like? A fantasy? A nightmare?

We’ve all had days when the world feels too loud, too chaotic, too overwhelming. But what if that feeling never went away? What if you retreated so far into your mind that you lost touch with everything outside it?

This episode is driven by that question. Can you empathize with what I’m asking? Can you relate?

Have you ever thought about how the world is an utterly frightening place? It always has been, ever since we humans began enforcing our dominion over this poor planet.

As many people around can’t see it. Or they won’t care! They won’t spend time asking such questions - what for, that would be a foolish waste of it! Ethics don’t pay, don’t fill one’s stomach, don’t increase one’s social status. No, most people will tell you, “you must play the game”. Because that’s what we are. Because that’s human nature, everyone claims. Well, not me. You hear? Not me! In such a reality, why even bother participating in this circus?

Kalispera, Good evening, Buenas Tardes, Dobry Wieczór.

You’re listening to After the Dragon, a reflective, existential podcast about navigating life’s changes. Episode 7: Reflections from the Underground.

Coming back from bustling India, as I described in Episode 6, I had reached a point of awareness and gratitude. 2024 had been tough, but not destructive, and what didn’t kill me made me stronger and wiser. It became a state that helped me to get back on track for what was to come.

But at the end of that year, after that trip, I was still mentally & physically exhausted, I needed something different. I needed quiet, solitude, and peace.

So I headed to my village, Domatia, nestled in the foothills of Mount Pangaio. A place of childhood summers and ancient myths.

To detox, relax, unwind, and also see my grandma, whom I haven’t seen for months at that time. We ain’t much alike, I don’t speak much with her, but I guessed it would have been a nice bonus, to keep her company on a New Year's Eve she would have otherwise spent alone.

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Domatia is a quaint settlement, resting in the foothills of Mount Pangaio. I spent my childhood summers there, playing in nature and abandoned walls of the old, escaping the Greek heat while resting in its river waters, underneath its numerous stone bridges.

In antiquity, this area was thought to be a sanctuary of Dionysus. But, perhaps to Dionysus’s dismay, I viewed it as my sanctuary of peace and tranquility, not of wine and revelry with satyrs. To his probable horror, I almost never even drink!

With that idea in mind, I went there to rest my mind and racing thoughts, the necessary breath before diving in the sea of what was to come.

Yet, 2024 had one last lesson to teach me. The one that I considered the most didactic. The one that connected the dots for me. Coming from a book, read in that voluntary solitude. A book I started and finished on the last day of the year.

Fyodor Dostoevsky’s “Notes from Underground”.

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Dostoevsky needs no introductions. He is one of the world’s greatest writers, crafting masterpieces drawn from the depths of his struggles.

As, throughout his life, he faced it all: imprisonment, close death calls, addictions, heartbreaks, and health issues.

He was caught and sentenced to execution for his revolutionary involvement, but was spared at the last moment—if you can call being sent to a Siberian prison camp "being spared." He endured seizures, came dangerously close to ruin due to gambling, and endured heartbreak after heartbreak.

At one point, he had to write a book in under a month or risk losing all the rights to his works by his publisher, due to their contract, including his newly published Crime and Punishment. A book that, together with The Brothers Karamazov, is considered his best work.

He still pulled through, writing The Gambler in under four weeks, almost without outside help.

Almost, because while he refused the help of other writers, he accepted the assistance of a stenographer named Anna, who soon became his wife.

It is no wonder that such a personality managed to grapple some of humanity’s darkest thoughts, playing with them in the shadows, exploring them in a perilous swordfight that would have its spectators at the edge of their seats.

Notions like nihilism, for example, one of the first Westerners who entertained the idea on a deeper, actual level.

And he did all these, with some of the best writing ever conceived by a human mind.

Dostoevsky’s attention to detail draws you into his world. His writing weighs on you, his tone darkens your mood, and his ideas haunt you long after you’ve turned the last page.

I was no stranger to his work. The Gambler remained my favorite book for years, with The Idiot being a close second; but Philosophise This recent episodes on his work, reignited my interest - sources will be in the description and the episode’s epilogue.

After I came across episode 218, talking about the Notes from the Underground, an episode I heard while on a tuk-tuk ride in Mumbai, I knew I had to read it for myself.

And when I discussed it with my sister, and she told me she’d left a copy of the book in Domatia, it felt like fate. Thanks to her, too, for making this episode possible.

I arrived, grabbed it, and read it without distractions, taking it on walks in the mountains. It became my sole companion. I kept reading even after I returned to my room, shivering away from December’s cold, ignoring everything else around me.

And it spoke to me in a way no other book ever had.

The protagonist of this book is, well, we never catch his name. Most call him "the Underground Man." And not in a cool, hipster kind of way.

He is a 40-year-old retired public servant who’s stuck in a loop. A loop of feeling superior to everyone around them, yet unable to connect, weakened in his motivation to live, powerless in believing in something, anything that can let him crawl out of his misery.

Feeling both superior and inferior: a Schrödinger’s cat of existential despair.

Which, if you can’t tell, it’s a simply disabling state. Eager to notice society's thunderously obvious pitfalls, how we humans are far from the rational beings we claim ourselves to be, while at the same time powerless, knowing that we all, and he included, are still bound by some kind of universal truths.

And he brings this dynamic all along the book; across all his depressing interactions, throughout its pages.

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Not all people can empathize with such a character; so let’s stop here, to ask yourself this question:

Can you?

What kind of person are you?

Are you someone who enjoys life for what it is, because you’ve either never faced devastating challenges, or because you’ve faced them and come out the other side stronger?

Or are you someone who’s spent years living inside your head, missing chances, doubting everything, and retreating from the world?

Regardless, there is a beauty to behold when reading the Underground Man's sickening thoughts, as well as many of the other novels of Dostoevsky. That was why my favorite book was “The Gambler”. Because, while I never comprehended the mind of a sick soul that sticks to the table until he loses it all, Dostoevsky, as an avid gambler, his poison being card games, himself, has shown me how these people think. In what kind of situations are they stuck in a loop?

I read The Underground Man’s pages feeling as if this could have been me, a version of myself that completely gave up in life after that horrible 2024. And, honestly, I always carried this version of myself around for years.

It was no coincidence that I started and finished this book on New Year's Eve, in a room in Domatia—a village whose name, in Greek, literally means “Rooms.” Greek villages are weird.

But as I closed the book’s final pages and faced the protagonist’s ultimate despair, it was almost time for the year to change.

I won’t spoil the ending, as I believe you should read this book no matter what (and it’s a short read too, so there are no excuses here). I'll just say this: it gave me what I needed, A long-awaited end to my suffering. A chance to leave my isolation behind.

To reach out to others and understand that they may be going through similar stages in their life.

As you may have noticed, this podcast began with a very self-centered premise, and it’s true. As we can only change ourselves, as we need to fill in our cups before all else, as we are required to put on our masks before we tend to other passengers.

But, there is a time when we have to escape the cruelty of our heads, and slowly reintegrate with the people around us.

Take all the time you need. There’s no rush. But when you’re ready, remember:

No life is worth living entirely inside your head.

It’s time to leave the underground.

And live life in its own messy, imperfect terms.

Even if you don’t know what you’re doing. Even if you still struggle with finding some meaning.

Move forward anyway.

Simply put, life’s the color you choose for it.

Choose the shade that fits you.

And if you can’t know what that is, just get out there and explore.

And maybe, one day, you’ll find it.

Because the other option should not be an option.

Because, as Dostoevsky shows us, there’s no life worth living underground. Without love, without connection, within the vacuum of our heads.

I took that first step that day. I left the underground, or, in my case, I left my room and went downstairs. I rejoined life; even if it was just by sharing a glass of wine and a laugh with my grandma. A small moment, it looked like, a small step it seemed, sure; yet, it felt like the beginning of something bigger.

So, I'll leave you with one question. What’s one small step you can take to escape your own underground?

Thank you for reaching the end of the seventh episode.

I cannot recommend a book more than The Underground Man, as well as the "Philosophize This"’ episodes on Dostoevsky and the Kyoto School; he delves much deeper into strongly related philosophical concepts, in his beginner-friendly way that is really one-of-a-kind. As always, sources will be in the description.

Leave a review, a like, follow the podcast on its other platforms and social accounts, and spread the word for it to expand; all of this helps the show massively.

Because, no matter what, I enjoy doing this, so I’ll keep doing it, as it is reflective, as it helps me understand myself a bit better, one episode at a time. But that’s a journey I know many people are undertaking right now, as I do; and it will help to take this together. One way or another, I refuse to do this by myself any longer.

Thank you once more. The next episode will be on Thursday, April 10th.

See you then; until then, try to escape your own underground, and take care!