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  • Andrew Andersen

Those Meditators

Updated: Jun 16

Victoria, BC


I have several friends of both genders in Moscow who belong, so to speak, to the 'intellectual-creative' stratum... On their Facebook pages, they and their friends exchange their works created in the distant past, as well as photos of flowers, kittens, puppies, and themselves on Turkish beaches (they are not allowed in Europe anymore). And all this happens on the very days when 'their boys' are ravaging Ukrainian cities, killing Ukrainian children, raping Ukrainian women, and directing missiles and shells towards kindergartens and hospitals. And now they have blown up the dam of the Kakhovka Hydroelectric Power Station, and they will probably blow up the Zaporizhia Nuclear Power Plant soon. They might even strike with tactical nuclear weapons on the Russian Belgorod province, where some mysterious Russian partisans are causing a stir... Should I comment on this? No, there is no need because there is no point. As one of my childhood friends used to say, 'obvious things don't need to be explained.' But for some reason, I recalled one of the weddings I attended many years ago (there were many weddings, but this one came to mind now)... The wedding took place in a large German city. An elderly German poet married a young Georgian artist... There were many guests at the wedding, and almost all of them represented examples of refined German artists, poets, and philosophers. Well, or those who wanted to be called that... Next to me sat a plump old man who somewhat resembled Shakespeare's Falstaff, if, of course, Falstaff were dressed in a blue denim suit, a snow-white shirt with a collar fastened with an intricate brooch, and had round glasses placed on his reddish nose. The old man could also boast of thick gray hair, gray landsknecht style mustaches, and the same beard, part of which was braided into plaits fastened with colorful threads... During the exquisite wedding feast with champagne, caviar, oysters, and God knows what else, the old man suddenly turned to me and, without any introduction, uttered in a gruff voice, 'While we are feasting here, our world is rapidly heading towards an open abyss!' 'It seems so,' I agreed, 'but are you doing anything to stop this flight?' To this, I received an even more thunderous response: 'WE?! WE MEDITATE AND CONTEMPLATE!' Those meditators...


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