The bully. His (or hers) entourage. The disobedient one. The flirtatious one. The goody-goody two-shoes. The socially awkward one. The silent one. The bomb. The addict (drug related, that is). The ones who go unnoticed. The one who grew up in a strict, religious home. The one who grew up in several homes.
We are all the same, yet different. We are all from Mother Nature. Inherently good. But us philosophers like Rousseau and Locke argue, man is then corrupted by its environment.
/ So, what is it that happens along the way?
/ Is it so that we are indeed corrupted by our environments? And if so, if this finite? No way around it?
/ Does a parents' words in fact matter more to a child than other superiors, like teachers and government officials?
/ Have you ever zoomed out into space, taken an objective point of view of things, put things in perspective, thinking about how your actions as a parents can have, and does have, a tremendous impact on the adult your newly-born, oversized-eyed little one is going to grow into one day?
We come out into this world crying, screaming. Then we turn our smiling game on, bringing all the wonders of joy to those around us. With our cute laughs. Our oversized, dreamy eyes. Tiny fingers and toes. Running around with our huge diapers on, like the Minions do. We trip, we fall, we get all bruised up, trying to climb the nearby tree for some unknown, maybe evolutionary point of view. But we don't get discouraged by each and every fall and bruise. We get up, try again! Ouhh, that resilience, people. Damn.
Then, our personalities start to form. Some argue it's as soon as a couple of months after birth. Some say that our personalities are formed by the age of 7. Others say, it takes longer.
Either way, some of us end up at the head seat, running countries, deciding how schools should be run, how big the military forces are to be, what kind of packaging should be allowed to wrap up slices of oranges and watermelons (yes, you read that right) (if any), others decide whether of not to use some of the country's educated students to work for a nuclear programme set to make the worst bombs known to mankind in order for lives to be ended, killed, brutally murdered for something they believed to be a greater cause. Or whatnot.
"With great power,
comes great responsibility!"
The quote above, from the famous Superman movies, said by the grandfather to the main character, Peter. Possibly inspired by the boy who never wanted to grow up, who actually refused, namely Peter Pan. No way around it, man. But, age is, and always will be, a number fixed by the old great mathematicians of this world, either set out as a way to calm people down, or stress people up some a lot more. Or?
Anyway. I've lived most of my adult life in peaceful countries. That is, in countries where there are no continuous bomb attacks. One could argue to which degree it is peaceful here, with all the bullying going on, the high rates of suicides amongst children, the social media hype of the picture perfect lifestyle, the high amount of addicts with regards to either sleeping pills or anti-depressants, the long queues outside the wine- and evil spirits stores.
Studies have shown that people who grow up in conflict areas, in areas where their government has betrayed them in several ways, are less likely to trust their government. But, what is the difference between a government whose state is in conflict and the one in the country where I'm living in at the moment? Are they evil and less trustworthy because they got caught? Because the damage is more visible, more loud? Because the people raise their voices when injustice is served?
Thus, and as the statistics would confirm, having lived in a country devoid of continuous bombings and a state of survival, I've trusted the people in my government to do the right thing. I was also blessed, in a way, that I, after the war, ended up in a country, where you get help if you end up sick, where maternal and paternal leave are present and paid-for, where you do get an x amount of sick days a year. Summa summarum, you're taken care of either way. You might end up with the bare minimum, leaving no room for any kind of tobacco addiction or even a little weekend treat, no mention of going out to eat or drink or even go to the movies or being social at all if not for on a blanket with homemade food and drinks, served by the other one whose not on social welfare, and don't forget having to spend 1/4 of your monthly income for a regular dentist's appointment - but, you are taken cared of. Roof, water, shower.
It's kinda weird, when I come to think of it. For a long time, I trusted the government of the country I was living in, despite the fact that the government of my home country in the Balkans, messed up so bad, leaving A LOT of people jobless, to emigrate, or dead on the streets. A cognitive conflict, indeed. Or, a second chance given to someone who proved to be 'ok'?
Babies grow up. They tumble and slip and fall and roll, but eventually they learn to walk, jog, run. Some choose to run for office.
For a long period of time, I used to think that everyone, and I mean, every single human being around me, had a train of thought as I did. They thought the way I did, thus acted the way I did, thus reflected upon their actions as I did, thus either rewarded themselves, or punished themselves, according - as I did. I also, and check this one out, used to think that evil people are only to be found in books, on TV, on some or other news media channel doing a report about a unique encounter with one or two world leaders portrayed as disastrous monsters for their nuclear programmes and armies the size of all the bacteria that fit right underneath my fingernails after a job well done potting and re-potting my plants with homemade fertilizer.
But the other day, I realised something.
The bully. His (or hers) entourage. The disobedient one. The flirtatious one. The goody-goody two-shoes. The socially awkward one. The silent one. The bomb. The addict (drug related, that is). The ones who go unnoticed. The one who grew up in a strict, religious home. The one who grew up in several homes. They all grew up.
And WHAT happened to them?
I had an encounter with three security guards the other day. I was waiting for the train to take me home after an evening out, when three of them came, grabbed me by my arms, dragged me away from the newly arrived train, and out of the building, halfway across the station. While I was sitting on a bench, waiting for the train. Listening to some old school music, enjoying my own company. Minding my own business.
When I then went back to the station to take the train home, the guards reappeared as out of nowhere, took a knee and drove it in my back, lay me down on the ground, handcuffed me, and then called the police on me. From the cops who arrived, I got plenty of human decency, sympathy that is, but no love left for the security guards. I filed a report, which got dismissed, in spite all the evidence that was piled against the security guards, and I'm now left with a confused sense of justice, a huge disappointment in the father- and mother figures who are out there with the (what should've been) sole purpose in life, of serving and protecting others from harm.
Also, the episode triggered a philosophical train of thought. Whatever happened to that bully in school?
/ If left unattended, how did his actions escalate? And if they in fact did escalate, how did the bully get worse?
/ How many more suffered along his sharp-clawed ploughing through life?
/ Does he now occupy a seat at Parliament?
/ Is he one of the people on top, governing the rest of us?
/ Did someone actually die, or try to commit suicide, because the words and actions of that high-school bully hurt too much, turned out to be the last drop?
/ Did one of those bullies grow up to become a security guard or police officer, where he saw an opportunity to live out his worst nightmares on other people? To hurt them they way he was hurt? To take the bullying to the next level, a level where you could actually legally use force on people and get away with it?
/ And last, WHO HURT YOU, POOR BOY? (or girl)
All of these young adults grow up one day. They make decisions, taking them each on a path through life. Some use the power, given to each and every human being, wisely - by serving others, protecting others, genuinely being there for others. While other people use their power in ways that should've only been read about in ancient history books and kept locked up in order for some to not get a wise-a** idea up in their head and then continue the pattern of destruction.
The bully. His (or hers) entourage. The disobedient one. The flirtatious one. The goody-goody two-shoes. The socially awkward one. The silent one. The bomb. The addict (drug related, that is). The ones who go unnoticed. The one who grew up in a strict, religious home. The one who grew up in several homes.
We all grow up.
Some only in years tho.
Others in development - physically, emotionally, spiritually.
Choose wisely.
Being a parent is not just the result of a few minutes of pleasure in bed. Or in a parking lot. Or in the forest. Or behind the community pool. Or on a train. It's ALL that comes after. What do you want your legacy to be? Do you want to be an example your children followed to the stars, or downwards to hell and beyond with all the drinking and smoking and gambling and lies and betrayal and cheating? Do you want to be the parent of those security guards who attacked me for no reason? Do you want be any of the silent bystanders who saw me being dragged and choked by my own jacket halfway across the central station? Or do you want to do the right thing, and stand up for what is right?
Choose wisely.
Peace be with you, people.
Inhale and let go. Then forgive.