Will Spade Substitute for Love?

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What word penetrates into our hearts most deeply? The answer is clear-cut – this word is Love. That is why various self-study guides and books on harmony that tell us how to have a good innings give us wise and sound advice – love the world and it will return your love. Very nice and very sensible advice.

Someone will put this guide to a philosophical approach to life into practice (like in Leo Tolstoy’s, “I do not have everything I love but I love everything I have”) and will actively embellish the material world around them. Feeling no embarrassment at recoursing to force if it is necessary to restore justice. Someone will pardon themselves – say, I love this world and it owes much to me for that. My partner (in a marriage or a relationship) owes me, the boss owes me, the authorities owe me, all the neighbors owe me, my fellow citizens owe me and so on and so forth.

Unfortunately, we have many more those belonging to the second category in our former-soviet states: those who prefer fraternizing with other drivers with the help of a plastic glass of cognac while waiting in a traffic jam to replacing the tires of their car depending on a season. Those who happily go snowboarding at Andriivsky Descent on an enforced snowy day off following the declaration of an emergency in the city. It’s beautiful, I cannot but agree! And – probably – merry. Wonderful free-stylers park in narrow streets nearby and block the way of snow removal machines. The snow is not cleared, the cars of those who are lucky to live in the vicinity have no chance to get out. Or in. But it is merely a sketch of the days of the Great Snow, though these very “pictures at an exhibition” are now intruding into our daily life in a more weighty, disrespectful and outward way.

What is it – simplicity, charming innocence, eminence of soul? I think it is immaturity, irresponsibility, and selfishness.

You’ve had a ride and that will do for you. Working days are here again, but these are snowy days. Social networks are full of moans of all those mama's boys, “oh, a bad angry Uncle Popov has cheated on us again, he said he had cleared everything but we are having 10-point jams again.” A classic of the genre, “It is so easy to deceive me, I long to be deceived myself.” During the weekend (including that involuntary quasi-day off on Monday), nobody understood how depressingly small was the amount of tractors per 40 million tons of snow estimated by the “foundling mayor”.

It is easier to believe that the self-important hypocrite appointed from above who has been living in Kyiv for a mere couple of years and whose personal qualities make him fit for taking charge of a little town at best will take care of Kyiv citizens. Than to take responsibility for your own life and its quality.

P.S. Please, don’t comment that the column is angry and that Love will save the world. It has been definitely saving it on a daily basis, for many billions of years now. (Remember Dante’s “Love that moves the sun in heaven and all the stars.”) Yet, without the help of a weak human body, this divine sense cannot shovel snow drifts and make local authorities do their job. And it will not substitute for a spade, by the way. Thus, as the lamented Vysotsky used to sing, “Don’t write to me about love, I won’t believe it; and I’m fed up with your tout passe. But, listen, here’s some lavsan fabric, good thing, it is; and I can buy it if you wish”.

Tags: Psychology; Work