Stories of change

Stories of great change are interesting.

I always think of Central Asia, and the many cities that have risen and fallen due to empires coming and going. What are people doing in these final steps. What sadness in entire cultures and peoples being wiped out to be forgotten by history. What philosophy or art they may have had!

I don’t just think of Central Asia, I think of present day Russia east of Moscow too. I think of Perm. I think of Kazan. I don’t know anything about these places, but I wonder about them in 800 AD or whenever Islam and Christianity were there. How would a young boy full of dreams lead his life. Did romance exist?

There’s recent stories of change as well of course. Things closer are harder to romanticize because the horrifying tragedy is so apparent. Anger and helplessness bubble to the top.

But in all these situations our little old human emotions and vices and whatever else are there. Our love and our passion is there as well. It’s not about defining ourselves or leaving a legacy. It’s corny, but it feels like it’s about the dance on the alpine meadows with truth and love. Alpine signifying high ground.

I hope we will not be insignificant casualties in the winds of change.

I hope my son will have a good long life.

I’m saying not much of anything.

Excuse this middle aged man.