Some May Think Tragedy, Some
May Think Gods
I don’t know if the memories that I have about my
Russian orphanage are reality or just nightmares. The thing that I know for
certain is that an Orphanage is the place associated with having kids that
aren’t wanted anymore. Just imagine
being in a two-story cracked brick building worn from ages of standing in the
same place for decades . Living with others who aren’t “wanted” like you. The
bedroom being a large room with metal beds lined up in rows. White walls
chipped and stained. Iron bars on each window preventing any escape to the
outside world. Celebrating holidays was not allowed. All I ate was kasha and
black tea. Taking burning hot baths, the kind that scorch your skin, being
spanked not by a hand, but by a long wooden stick. Being locked in a cellar
where supposedly there dwelled baba yaga, a witch who arraigned her fence with
the heads of the travelers who came to her home. Not know what a real family
felt like and staying inside all day, imprisoned by the caregivers, who in reality
lacked the tenderness that a
three-year-old needed then. When sickness overcame you, a caregiver locked you in
the smallest room for what seemed like eternities, isolated completely from the
world, and scaring you by announcing darkly that you had done something wrong
and would never be allowed to come out of that room. In an orphanage you aren’t important; you’re
just another boring fish in the vast sea. The only comfort you’d feel was remembering
that everyone awaited the same fate as you, unless of course a person seeking a
child came to the front gates and became a knight in shining armor and whisked
you on to a better life. Alas these are
the only memories I can offer for I have blocked out that part of my life and
it will forever stay a blank canvas.
In another part of Russia lays another dismal
orphanage. The only difference is that this one holds the children with
deformities. Whether the kids have four arms or ten eyes, this place was built
just for them. Their deformities didn’t appear just out of bad luck, they
appeared because these kids had the utmost misfortune of living near
Chernobyl. In this orphanage the kids
don’t go out into society because people don’t want to see someone so abnormal.
There are no “normal” kids that dwell in this place; everyone has to have
something wrong with them so that they are put into a social group just for the
non-normal. The hurt and heart-wrenching The agony of being in the same place, same
room for what seems like decades, only in reality are years ticking by slowly
like a turtle trekking through a mud lake.
They were put in these homes because their families couldn’t afford to
have treatments to cure their illness. They didn’t want to have to live a life
of knowing that it was their fault. The
explosion of this nuclear power plant was one of the deadliest events to occur.
Like dying in your sleep, no one in Russia, Ukraine, and surrounding countries
knew what hit them, and when they finally saw the light it was much too late to
do anything about what had happened. That could have been me.
I had the advantage of being able to forget unlike
the children in Chernobyl. Every day they look out the cracked and dusty shred
of glass called a window and are hit in the face with the cause of their
deformities. The dreary remains of what
used to be a well running power plant, now a rundown pile of steel looming in
the distance. Caution tape and “do not enter” signs run in circles around the
power plant making sure that people never set foot on this ground and become
exposed to the hanging pool of the Ukrainians hopes and dreams that were swiped
away like candy from an inattentive baby. No one bothers to tell the children
the secrets of this building that they all look at every day. Questions speed
as fast as a racecar through their minds slowly making them more curious then
curious George himself. Every afternoon
the Chernobyl children gather in the playroom and let their imaginations flood
out of their minds, recreating events and telling stories of how
this mysterious wreck came to be and what happened to make it look to
dreary and haunted. Little did they know that when Chernobyl went rogue, they
were the ones who were affected. They
should never know this. For all they know they are the same as everyone else,
and in truth they are correct.
If I was one of these children and I got saved and
was able to have a better life in the United States, I wouldn’t fit in.
Citizens would walk around me and stare at my difference. I wouldn’t be able to
go out in to society for fear of getting beat up because I am a freak and
freaks aren’t allowed here. The only place that I know of where I would be
accepted for the light that shines within me rather than what I look like would
be an ashram in Crestone, Colorado. Love
and light hit you the minute you open the door like bed sheets engulfing you
and keeping you warm. The sweet aroma of
homemade vegan food hits your nose making your taste buds tingle with
excitement and thirst. The smiles and laughter and hugs from old friends, or
new ones making me feel like I have nothing to be afraid of.
Walking down to the creek and bathing in the crystal clear liquid
refreshes my mind and body, making me forget that I have four arms. The ringing
of bells and voices of the Divine Mothers devotees makes a smile grow on my,
making me want to dance to their joyous tune. The reason behind not having to worry about
being criticized and judged by the people that I meet is the fact that just up
the hill lays a temple that contains a goddess. Four arms are what bring this
sacred goddess and me together as one. She is one of the most beautiful figures
that I have ever seen. Standing on her lotus pedestal, looking brighter than
the sun its self makes me feel the light that radiates off of her. Her ivory
eyes seem to follow me wherever I stand, and a smile always engraves on her
lips. A rust colored pattern of henna graces each hand making her deformity
seem as though everyone should have one. Gazing upon this amazing goddess makes
me forget that I am different.
Looking out of the window I no longer see a dark
looming power plant that exploded and caused me harm. I don’t have to stay
inside for fear of being exposed to more radiation and the cruelty of society.
When I look out of my window at the Ashram, I see glimmering solar panels
lining the horizon. These solar panels that don’t cause me harm when I go near
them. Thinking back, I wonder why there was a need for a power plant in the
first place. Could it be that no one realized that there might be a safer way
to heat my tiny home in the outskirts of Ukraine? These solar panels make the
feel of the ashram more clean and natural like an untouched meadow hidden in
the middle of the woods. The air here is much cleaner. No longer is the sky
clouded with smoke and harmful chemicals. No one has to breathe in these
toxins. No more kids have to be born like me. These solar panels teach me how to conserve
the energy that the earth provides me. If I use too much of it then no one else
who dwells in this sacred place will be able to use it. I don’t have to worry
about an explosion happening that could cause millions of other beings harm. I
wake up every morning, and I no longer yearn for my family and a better life.
Why live in a world that makes you feel pain and mourning when I can go out and
change the life that I have and take this difference that I have and make it a
good thing. If it weren’t for the ashram and the healthy choices that I make
here I probably wouldn’t be alive.
These words are not of my realty though. I was not
affected in a physical way form Chernobyl. I look like any other person that I
see walking the streets. Not being affected physically doesn’t mean that I
wasn’t affected mentally. The thought of these poor innocent souls having to
live a life of pain makes me want to sweep them away like a gentle wind and
carry them to an ashram so that they too can have the experience of healing and
acceptance. If I had any power to be able to open their eyes to a better world
then I would be content. Since I have no power to do anything for this occurred
years before I was born, all that I can do is imagine. Imagine the pain,
imagine the love I would feel and imagine a better life.
No comments:
Post a Comment