Rus Articles Journal

About the width of the Russian soul: width or narrowness?

ability of the Russian character to forgiveness and a vseponimaniye, to a vsepronikaniye in foreign troubles and sorrows Is surprising. The patience of the Russian person, apparently, knows no limit, has no limits neither in width, nor in longitude - so it is boundless. It seems, everything one Russian person can take down and forgive to other Russian person - such bottomless heart at him: the vorovatost which already almost became national line, reckless alcoholism, black lie as the truth light on the feet, reckless greed, dissoluteness, stupidity, carelessness - yes how many them there, such low and such high - yes because everything says goodbye! - the devil - devils of low high Russian soul! The Russian person is wide, and the soul is even broader than him and therefore it vseobjemlt all broad world, he was not as if huge, all who are on this broad light, loves all and forgives all! Only one to forgive above its human and Russian forces: direct hit of the foreign word in the wide Russian conscience.

Never could understand, explain though how many - nibud to amazing symbiosis purely the Russian shaking any normal imagination, indifferences, infinite gloomy dishonesty against the drunk men and other same men going by an even stride lying on roadsides the person during snow; barefaced, straight in a face of greed, almost respectable hapuzhnichestvo and requisitions with a virtuous look and unimaginably high, sublime rhetoric, almost a song of songs, the mighty anthem to the unique soul. “If devils nested in soul - means, angels lived in it“ - on - Yesenin`s, probably, will be somehow so.

Unimaginable almost sacred cohabitation in the Russian soul of the purest, as May dew at conscience dawn with low dishonesty, maternal soft-heartedness with criminal indifference, passionate love with hotter hatred. The Russian person not only is extremely wide. Russian person polyaren. Vzaimoisklyuchayushch. It is inconsistent …

Communicating with the Russian people, not hereditary or still what, semi-diluted other European and other blood, semi-others countries, traditions and ways, not those that emigrated years to thirty that to some America, or all life lived in some Central Asian or Caucasian Russian enclaves, and those that “cooked“ only in the new old Russia, dragged themselves, refracted and somehow survived in the last Post-Soviet times, I catch myself on permanent unpleasant feeling as to me it is heavy to communicate with many of them. Especially, when the speech comes about the Russian soul and conscience.

The feeling is such that conscience at Russians - the most painful point of an organism and if you do not want trouble, is better than it do not touch. Any representative of other nation does not react so sharply and is unpredictable on questions of conscience as the Russian person. And it does it with a type of the Saint and infallible martyr, at least behind shoulders it had a vacation for murder, and nowadays he is the coolest souteneur of the area.

The Russian indifference shakes. And especially it is noticeable on sudden cold contrast. When an eye is not hackneyed, and you, under the influence of the decomposing indifferent environment, itself still did not begin to decay …

… Small small town. Late November. Six o`clock in the evening. Rush hour. On the shivered bus-stop of the people fifty who are greedy seeking to leave quicker it to get home, to the beer, to the TVs, on deserved rest. In the same place, on a concrete floor lies the person in the sky of people. Absolutely still the young boy of years of eighteen, with a flush in all cheek, as at the Russian beauty. It is visible that to it it is bad. His breast often rises, the muscle of the left leg small shivers. Two hours in such weather on concrete - also you are a disabled person. But the people, fifty Russian athletes hurrying to beer and the TV do not rush to the aid of the teenager. Nobody conducts also an eyebrow.

To it I rush (because it is still silly and naive). I lift, I tighten on a stop bench, I try to seat. The guy is heavy. At me badly it turns out. I throw in a fit of temper to crowd: “Yes help somebody!“. In reply the lead silence ready to shoot at me with all force. “What you cost! It is not a shame to you?!“ - I throw as if into emptiness. I see how are poured by blood of an eye of impatient stoyalets as muscles under dense sheepskin coats strain as tumors start walking.

“You che, the cleverest?“ - three guys waddlingly approach the exterior which is not inspiring trust me. My acquaintance pulls me hasty for a sleeve. Here - here, and on a concrete floor of a stop other fellow will lay down already. We hasty retire …

… Roadside cafe somewhere between Moscow and Tver. I go to a toilet. I do not manage to open a door as I hear at the very bottom miaow and fuss. I shine with a match. I see up to a throat of the kitten sitting in shit. He desperately calls to the aid. On me a new white sweater. I come back. I report. I am hurried. It is necessary to go. I hesitate. I say that it is necessary to get a kitten. But children drank, to them it is good, laugh. To them not to such nonsense. I come back there where there were five minutes to that. I grudge a new sweater. I roll up a sleeve. I climb for a poor animal. Which - as I get.

All road from me stinks of shit. My fellow travelers laugh over me. I tell something sharp, about conscience. And here pereklinivat them. They were not ready even to glance in a toilet where there was a poor creature, but now are ready to kill me for one mention of conscience … with

… Moscow - the capital of immense Russia. We come back tipsy from restaurant. At the corner of some small street two spindle-legs stick to the young child. Except us, on the street not a soul. The young child - whether the fellow, whether the little girl, in hope looks in our party, mutely appealing about the help. Two gorillas unambiguously search it, accompanying the actions not with Shakespearean monologues. We hasty pass by. At me escapes: “It is necessary to interfere!“. In reply I hear: “Will understand. Nakh. it is necessary“. “It is necessary to cause militia!“ - a stubborn uzh conscience darts about in me. “Walk, do not worry“ - my companions do not worry...

Such inconspicuous events raising in me hatred to all human race, or, at least, to the great Russian people for my short trip on the wide mother - Russia, it was gathered about a small collection. And all the time of the stay in the homeland of forefathers I felt constant sense of guilt as if I do something not so all the time. Me continually straightened out, even sovestit, and at times it is opened, in Russian in a forehead let know that did not philosophize.

The fact that any appeal to conscience caused an acute aversion of everyone to whom it was turned is very remarkable. Even hatred - the feeling was so strong. So far one person gladkodushno stayed idle while nearby same as he slowly and surely died, and so far nobody “moralized“, everything was as was. That is, normally. While in a toilet, in the face of ten stray, the crazy animal perished, nobody staid without turning a hair. So far nearby the violence, robbery was made, and it directly did not concern you - everything was normal too. It is ordinary. As always.

But that is still entertaining that any fleeting mention of the “feats“ made by you, plunges comfortably idle idlers almost into a twilight state. At us it is so accepted: for some reason it is extremely a shame to us to tell about the kind acts - even without hint on boasting, a silent voice. Yes it is as a shame how does not happen it is a shame with the most disgusting affairs made in youth and by mistake. How many I used to know, bragging - who rape who theft who money - to all the kind understanding was thirst to. And here you should mention how you protected someone, lifted from snow or borrowed money and so, accidentally, not for the sake of boasting, among the general fun as there comes the death silence, and you are already examined with mistrust, with irritation and suspicion as if it you, but not they, stole, raped, zaskvalyzhit.

Right there as skin it is felt, at them, cozy and full as if sincere fever as if a conscientious itch in all places. And those who the person and gestures are more opposite, fatter, louder and are more impudent snatch on you, with obvious desire a subhost in scraps, to stop up a throat, to strangle - that you stopped with “boasting“, with the good deeds. Also try to discover such, with undisguised pleasure, in you any any defect - whether it be modest prosperity or a curve nose. Also aim to reproach you with arrogance and arrogance though similar on mind you held nothing. And the feeling it is so strong, is so comprehensive that is not present it I will hold - so prt them, and bears.

Strange thoughts remain from such communication. Feeling - as if in manure got dirty. But they are right, but not you. But because it is not necessary about conscience with the Russian person. About conscience it is not necessary!