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fesip

There are no conditions to which a man may not become accustomed, particularly if he sees that they are accepted by those about him.

Leo Tolstoy, Anna Karenina

We are taught to hate everything Russia today, because of what the regime behind Vladimir Putin inflicts upon us. The cult of personification forgets he is but one man, an excellent salesperson of duality and contrasts. The front man, accepted and refuted, caught in a cobweb of ideologies and interests.

I'm not pleading here for him to be seen as victim, he's publicly visible and in that alone ad minima a driving force of what happens. The narrative is “a” and not “the” driving force.

We in the “west” don't allow ourselves to see how many parts of the world are turning their attention to Russia in the face of Western nations unwillingness to intervene. Err, we shit our pants, in the name of money and perceived, such as nuclear, self preservation.

It is not because we get record amounts of refugees risking their lives fleeing to us that in South America, Asia, Africa people are not turning hungry for Russia. The hardship of our omission to act brings and fuels global issues of hunger, energy, minerals, ...

We focus on Ukraine, rightly so in short sightedness. Afghanistan, Georgia, Armenia, the Krim, ... We focus on what does not need knocking on the door because it is already in the henhouse. So much so that we're willing to welcome old corruption which we thought we had dealt with once and for all. Urgent enlisting less equipped nations who linger in old ways called out as illegal. Do they realise it is missionary-like joining the by old guard countries new reorganised and legalised forms of corruption?

As Europeans we are on the headless chicken run to maintain an idea of perceived control, whilst we sit on our arses moaning the living daylight out of issues affecting our enslaved existence. Cars, trains, internet, artificial intelligence, phones, ... And the more we run saving the unnatural, the less we do what's needed to ensure peace of heart.

Many countries in the face of adversity look at what Russia can mean to their improving. In fact, except our western societies vindicating the opposite, all countries are sensitive, and open, to the old adage: when there is blood in the streets... Supremacist colonialism two-point-o, reinvented. Isn't that the very essence of successful, and applauded, capitalism?

Did you see the documentaries a while back on how western countries go into Ukraine promising help in exchange for enslaving the country into highly lucrative contracts for our big businesses, negotiated by our top politicians? Suddenly you had all western leaders flurting up Ukraine. I remember one in particular following French President Macron, documented by embedded journalists for weeks.

Neutrality is choosing sides. Switzerland is still on the path of concealing its holocaust responsibilities, whilst offering its confidential banking system services for the war effort of both sides. In so doing, it does not side with the peace hungry and impoverished population but with the vengeance and honour seeking powerful. The universal and human rights violating bank of war.

Regardless of the extreme horrors running through the timeless history of Russia, regardless of what happens right under our noses, one has to admit it is home also to the other extreme.

The extreme of beauty in all aspects of life, which few people's have achieved.

Let's not burn this through past endured hardship fuelled beauty in the face of, and as a reaction to, its current ugliness. Let's, remind and cherish it as a learning school for the path to peace.

Alas, deprived from true empowerment by out pocket-sized life dictating accessory brains, we've become nothing but moaners chasing the quick-fix to any monkey business. Running to save the comfort of our perceived freedoms and rights, which are nothing but a sand-in-eye, never thirst quenching nor reachable mirage.

Perception is the only driving factor here, like religion is the driving force of beliefs. The world is flat syndrome, remember?

We're the jokes of our ancestors, of our history, of what shaped us to be. Our self inflicted ignorance stems but from our unwillingness to feed ourselves with what has already happened, in delirious quests which make it happen all over again.

Many regard Leo Tolstoy's Anna Karenina as one of the finest novels ever written. It is Russian and I am not ashamed to say so, to acknowledge it is one of the greatest forms of art, even to me. Today's fesip is lifted from that work.

But from which work? Until I become fluid at Russian, alas from interpretation.

There are allegedly 15 translations of the original work, and some have been reworked for subsequent editions.

I quoted the on internet most used iteration, yet I could not find this exact iteration in any of the translations I could find. A like grass four times to muck digested result in order to obtain life giving milk.

Rosemary Edmonds on page 739 translated it as:

*There are no conditions of life to which a man cannot get accustomed, especially if he sees them accepted by everyone about him.*

Constance Garnett has it translated as:

*There are no conditions to which a man cannot become used, especially if he sees that all around him are living in the same way.*

That is only 3 different ways to say the same thing from the original Russian text.

So what do we really read when we do not understand the original text ourselves? How does different use of language shape our ideas? How does communication flow from the brain of Tolstoy, to his feather frantic scribbling directed by dark inc stained fingers, to a translator's reading the words on paper triggering personal emotions, which in turn fuel an interpretation in another language transferred to other paper...

Anna Keranina is a work of art, for which your ultimate experience will depend on the version you choose to read

Given our failure to stand up for our perceived powerless understanding and certainties, seeing the other version accepted by those about us, do we continue our quest to become accustomed to the worst of conditions?

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