The human struggle for equal quality of life will never end. The higher brain functions in us bipeds demands a continuous development of conceptual, and applied justice, and though justice may have, up until now, been just thinly applied concept across the globe people will continue to sacrifice individual lives for the body whole of the future humanity.
And do you think for one moment that cushy lazy cheetoh or caviar poppin’ m*****f******* reared on entitlement kickin’ back in recliners or high flyin’ in BMW's that go vroom!, who've never felt a pang of hunger, or a bullet through the thigh or the mind, do you think they will survive the most important revolution waiting for us all not too fardown the road ? Not likely.
But, I understand how there's a method to the seeming madness of this devolutionary, evolutionary strain.
One of the reasons I’m grateful for having been brought up predominantly in a communist country for the first nine years of this particular life strand, is that it gives me perspective and allows me to critically dissect information fed to me on other cultures by this specific culture I find myself inhabiting.
My memories skim over the stream. . . .
A young me in a military dress saluting the effigy of Lenin and singing along with well organized lines of children on May Day.
Russian soldiers at dinner in father’s house, laughing and cavorting like all men do when the uniforms are left behind in the barracks.
I adored the Russian soldiers, their meticulous and crisp dress, those long winter coats that flared out at the waist. They were like my father, and so it was easy to reconcile their extraordinary grace with their extraordinary violence.
Just another day, another year in Papa, for me.
Their was a central cemetery specifically for the Russian soldiers at the entrance of the town's cemetery.
Weeping willows embraced the graves, the walls.
I was at one of the funerals for a specific commander who was my father’s friend. Not too deep into it, we watched outside the walls, me on Horse with father next to me on his Arabian stallion.
“Why aren’t we going in?” I remember asking.
“Because they mourn death. We celebrate it as a new beginning.”
That night we raised a glass of sweet cognac in celebration of his next incarnation.
I’ve been in the world of Muslim, and the world of Taoist and Buddhist, Communism and Fascism, and Democracy, and so on and so forth, and what I can tell you is that within each body of belief you will have the infinitesimal fringe that will take the core belief and pervert it to their own means.
You can never judge an entire culture, or religion, or system of government by the few who pervert it.
I am so lucky, such a lucky girl still draped in a Russian soldier's coat reciting an ode to Lenin in front of a blazing fire place, while the men applaud, and the snow falls and falls through the winter nights.