The Birch Forest

Since this war started, I've heard some Russians describe what they felt as "what the decent German citizens felt in 1939". But this is not a debate on whom I consider a decent citizen or whether I think of myself as one. I'm also not here to victimize the "decent" Russian citizens, as the number one victim of this conflict is the people of Ukraine - for whom, however, I'm worried the least, having seen their bravery and the will to defend their freedom. The civilized world shall prevail over the blood-lusting barbarians.

The reason we've got here is not some mysterious virus, conscious-altering cosmic rays, or even a chain of unprecedented historical events. It all stems from an idea. In this case, one in a pretty package filled with poison. Ideas themselves are built upon questions and answers, the former being of far greater importance. The questions you ask decide the path you take. The answers you give can only make a difference in whether you walk on the left or the right side of the road.

I remember being asked whether I was proud of having been born Russian. While the answer I would give to that question is not relevant anymore, this is one of the questions that put you on the wrong path before you know it. My explanation, not answer, now would be that you cannot be proud of something you were given and didn't work to achieve. A stone cannot be proud of laying in a particular valley - just as much as a thought cannot be proud of being in the head of a given person. Whether you choose to feel blessed or cursed about such things is just a matter of preference.

While this was no more than a lesson to myself, I want you, my friend, to remember that letting the world ask the questions for you will only take you where the world wants you to be. Pick things apart in your mind, do little thought experiments like the one above, keep creating your narrative. We can only be free by choosing the cages ourselves.