My Russian Revolution Ch. 01

My arrival in Ufa happened suddenly. Several cataclysmic explosions jettisoned me from comfort and safety to this place built on the ancient site of Ivan the Terrible's fortress. Dazed and confused, I found myself driving along the M5 to this unfamiliar place. The rearing horse of Salawat Yulayev gesticulated a cold, stony hello from high above the city. As I passed the iron arches crossing of the Belaya River Bridge, tears ebbed and flowed down my face in solidarity for the rocks and turbulent icy cold river below.

Exiting the M5 propelled me through the Ufa city centre. Every block etched with tragic, militant, artistic memory. The National Museum and commemorative statues celebrated Ufa's tyrannical past, whilst the Fountain of Seven Girls and Street Sweeper Monument celebrated modern everyday heroes. The majestic Bashkir State Opera and Ballet Theatre host to many Republic of Bashkortostan laureates and famous Russian performers watched over pavements crowded with ambitious students from the Ufa Arts College whose dreams lived in that very theatre.

The popular Ufa Arena home of a past Russian champion hockey team, also named Salawat Yulayev, after the Bashkir national hero who had participated in Pugachev's Rebellion. Yulayev was a warrior, poet, and singer whose written works had been preserved and shared orally ensuring his memory was passed from generation to generation. The Ufa Lenin Museum is a museum devoted to Vladimir Lenin. Park Pobedy is crammed with memorials to the Soviet military and WW2 commemorated by an eternal flame shielded by an obelisk. These streets and buildings in time would become more familiar to me as I researched and learned about myself against the backdrop of the sad, chaotic, brutal history of Bashkortostan.

The GPS found my new abode. I dragged my bags, heavy with grief and remorse, up the two flights of stairs to that cold thorny Siberian cave. I wandered from room to room urging myself to accept this frigid lonely prison. I stepped onto the balcony and gazed at the stark red brick vista that stared blankly back at me. My heart and soul had been discarded in the warm green Magnitogorsk valley out east. This beige and brown cell offered no warmth and no distraction for my overactive ruminating mind. Reluctantly I launched myself onto the hamster wheel of mundane working life, lonely silent nights, and endless empty weekends. My appetite for life vanished down the sewers of my past. And my year of penance began.

The months spent piecing myself together were challengingly slow and laborious. My soul had been ripped from me, jammed into the wringer, and shredded out of existence taking with it the very essence of who I once was. Figuring out how to release me from deep self-recrimination so that I could move forward after losing my person seemed insurmountable. Months of self-reflection and re-education in the basic principles of life, ethics, morality, virtue, philosophy, divinity, and individuation followed. Isolation deprived me of the mirror of community. Quickly my identity and existence were forgotten by those who mattered to me most. My reflection began to blur and disappear. Gradually I succumbed to the harsh reality that we expect from others what we are not giving to ourselves.

I persevered, did the work, enduring the torture of the struggle. Slowly, my once depleted life force began to ebb and flow once more as my enthusiasm and appreciation for life returned. Each day I wrote and or painted. Every completed page releasing the tension, grief, anxiety, anger, fear, love, hate, sadness, exhilaration, and joy that had been trapped inside me. I poured my feelings onto pages and canvas, easing my troubled heart and soul with each penned word and brushstroke. A year after my arrival in Ufa, my penance was finally over. I was ready to embrace the world outside my window.

My Ufa exploration began in earnest with a visit to the Botanical Gardens, a partly private enterprise funded by the Federal State, that conducts research on the introduction and acclimatization of plants in the Urals and Bashkortostan. A small crowd of runners had gathered near the entrance waiting to participate in the Sunday parkrun, briefly delaying my chance to reconnect with nature. Mentally I considered joining them sometime in the future. I was heartened by their enthusiasm and excitement as they chatted in a language I still did not understand. As the distraction ran off into the distance, the spectacular colours of the gardens burst open before my eyes drowning me in splendorous beauty. I wandered about the gardens all day, through greenhouses that simulated various climatic zones creating tropical atmospheres despite the icy cold outside. I gazed at unusual exotic fish and multicoloured parrots happily going about their day in a fake tropical paradise. I remembered happier times spent sharing true tropical paradise experiences, deciding that for now, this must suffice. Ufa means "small" in the Turkic language and I had to accept this metaphor as my life.

Ufa sits at the confluence of the Ufa and Belaya rivers and is one of the largest industrial cities in Russia. Fuel, energy, and machine-building finance the local economy and sustain its population of over one million people. The Trans-Siberian Railway cuts its way through the city and the International Airport has flights to other Russian cities, Europe, and Asia. The city streets are wide with parking on either side. Unsightly pylons and power lines criss-cross the landscape where modern high-rise apartment buildings nestle alongside derelict ancient timber shuttered houses that once paraded their beauty. A one-storey house on October Revolution Street, constructed in the mid-18th century, is the oldest building in Ufa. It belonged to Demidov, an owner of several mines and metallurgical plants. The beautiful mosque on Tukai Street was built in 1830 and the spectacular Cathedral of the Nativity of the Theotokos is the largest Orthodox church in Ufa.

Mega is a massive mall on the outskirts of the city that boasts many European designer stores. American burger and sports brands have managed to creep into this truly Russian metropolis. My food preferences tend towards fresh vegetables grown on the local agricultural lands that circle the city. Russian schwarma is soul food or for a treat, I pop into the Mc Highlander a beautifully decorated Scottish themed restaurant and microbrewery on Karl Marx street. For dessert, my choice is tasty crepes, and coffee at Lido Pushkin.

Back In 1557, this area, inhabited by the Bashkirs, became part of the Grand Principality of Moscow until the Russian Tsar Ivan IV, built his fortress in 1574. The settlement became a town in 1586. The Ufa flag and coat of arms depict a brown running marten on a white background with a band of green below these became the emblems of the town in the middle of the 17th century at a time when the population was a mere 1,500 people. The image looks to me like a squirrel but apparently it is a weasel-like mammal once hunted for its fur.

There are many museums displaying artifacts and cultural reminders of the past. The Bashkir State Art Museum, Museum of Archaeology and Ethnography Museum of Geology and Mineral Resources of the Republic of Bashkortostan, Museum of Contemporary Art of the Republic of Bashkortostan, the National Literary Museum of the Republic of Bashkortostan and of course the National Museum of Military Glory plus many small galleries displaying more contemporary art. Theatres are in abundance too; including drama, youth, puppets, ballet, opera alternative perspectives. Plus, a planetarium for stargazers and the city zoo for those who can bear to see captive animals.

The crime rate in Ufa has risen steadily since the 2014 financial crisis, with frequent daytime attacks by groups of criminals. Ufa's murder rate has given it the title of one of the most dangerous cities in Russia.

On the outskirts of the city, a system of 20 natural caves has been formed by gypsum mining. Also, on the fringe of the city, the massive carcass of an abandoned chemical factory sits vacant and untouched. The uranium factory was ordered to close after it was found to be causing immense environmental damage to surrounding areas and catastrophic health problems to its workers who worked with toxic nerve agents. Many factories around Ufa produce rubber, caustic soda, or mine copper and zinc producing equally large quantities of toxic waste. In 1990, high levels of phenol found in the water system rendered tap water undrinkable. Officials continue to deny this being the cause of ever-increasing cancer rates in the area.

It was at this point of my revolution that the universe decided to interfere with my progress.

The global pandemic arrived in March 2020 prompting Russian and global leaders to impose a tight restrictive lockdown, completely curbing all personal freedom. Just 100 years after the Russian Revolution, the collapse of industrial civilization suddenly seemed imminent. Suddenly we are all faced with a common enemy.

This enemy is invisible, unseen, and unpredictable. We do not know where it will strike next nor who it will attack. We cannot prepare nor defend ourselves against it. No amount of money can protect us from it. It can enter anyone, anywhere and at any time. It makes no difference whether you are rich or poor; famous or unknown; professional or amateur; CEO or beggar. This common enemy will break down structures we considered indestructible. It will defy political affiliations and religious persuasion. It will take out the weak and bring down the strong. This enemy will drive us into seclusion, cutting us off from all the external distractions that have sustained us. This enemy will force us to focus inward to face our own demons and to draw on our own strength.

Only occasional excursions to buy essential food items from places manned by masked humans with deep fearful eyes allow us a brief escape from solitary confinement. When out in the world, the collective terror is palpable amongst the phobic and ignored by the nonchalant and reckless.

In time, limited choice and rare moments of freedom allow for total focus and plenty of time to create through colour, shape, and form. Endless surveillance aside, being invisible translates into true freedom and becomes a supreme test of inner resilience and stability. Not for profit or gain, but creation purely for personal amusement, justifiable self-indulgence, and a test of the limits of my own imagination. My thoughts are my constant companion, reminding me that effort is not always rewarded. Kindness is not a commodity that society appreciates, and my profession and purpose is to create order out of chaos and shed light on hidden thoughts and ideas, to ignite the spark of originality and creativity that lives in everyone.

Music is allowed. Wireless connectivity is allowed. Electronic connection is allowed. Conversations with work colleagues and strangers are allowed. We make imaginary friends online through text and conversation; knowing we will never meet. Social contact is forbidden. We are doomed to a life without human touch, hugs, or kisses. When in public, exposing the face below the eyes is forbidden. Contact with masked technologists in sanitary environments offers our only nuance of human touch.

The fear and anxiety of the collective oozes through the media and conversation. My sanity is nurtured by memories and the dreams that sit behind my eyes. Warm navy and azure oceans, squeaky white sand, clear sunny blue skies, and meandering roads that took us to exquisite places in foreign lands. Sumptuous feasts prepared with love and warm embraces that closed each exhilarating day spent with the one I love.

The future state of Ufa in this dystopian world is not known to anyone. Tyrannical leaders share limited information raising doubt and suspicion amongst the masses. Our task is to create our own tribe of thinking individuals who hear and understand our language, our words, our images, with open-faced delight and total comprehension. We live at work and allow others virtual access and entry into our personal space.

Home is where we are, and the only travel permitted is through your own dreams and imagination. We are sheltered in place protected from fear by isolating ourselves completely. All energy expended creates something new and meaningful. Not for the eyes of anyone but our own. It is the process that gives us joy. The merging and mingling of disorganised colours as they chase each other across the glossy pages of our life, to the beat of music that reminds us of people, places, and happy times from the past. Our only solace and escape from the mundane are through our own thoughts, our own creativity, and self-acceptance. The choice is ours to take the high road or the low road as we awaken and plan each new day. Uninterrupted in your work cocoon from dawn until the oranges sun drops behind the horizon at the end of the day.

Day flows into night, then into weeks and then into months. Please, oh please do not let the months flow into years. Time is losing its meaning and we feel we are living between worlds. Life as it was and life as it is; contained, encapsulated, and limited.

New horizons start to appear as I move out of the darkness fuelled by inner wisdom gained through introspection. Fears of the unknown disappear and the world outside my window comes into focus, dissolving all resistance created in my own mind, replacing the negative narrative that once lived there. Mundane busyness takes second place as my mind expands and begins to see the bigger reality of this dystopian world. My true purpose is germinating and emerging as my higher vision and new insights change the picture of my future.

Travel will not be possible for some time to come and will possibly be restricted by intangible geographical borders. Airlines operate a few expensive routes amid real concerns and blatant fear of being in an enclosed space for too many hours with a contaminant. Virtual tourism will become a new way of exploring the world.

Without being able to plan future trips my mind wanders on to the theoretical and solving of hypothetical problems. What if the opportunity miraculously arose to be in a relationship again? What would I do? How would I be? What would I want? How would I make it work... next time if there is ever a next time?

Trying to thrive alone is less difficult than living with the shadow projections of the other. Particularly if the good and bad aspects of your own shadow are mirrored back at you by them. Our relationships are constantly sabotaged by our subconscious belief systems. Learning new ways of doing relationships has become my new fantasy. No assumptions. Straight talk. Pattern breaking. Slow and deliberate. Nurturing feminine energy needs to be received and returned so they never become adversarial.

Second best is never my preferred place in a relationship. Reciprocity and balance are a critical foundation. Settling for less than I deserve does not work for me. I choose to be magnanimous with my time, effort, and energy. I am fire. Untamed, explorative, steamy, and electric. I need to be felt, seen, and above all heard rather than silenced. Vociferous debate informs me, enhances understanding, and deepens intimacy. Partners who prioritize one another overwork, family, and friends build a united front that could serve the world at large. Deep conversations reveal thoughts, dreams, passions, fantasies, desires, and the secrets that hold us back. Truth liberates. Truth opens doors. Truth frees us from the shackles that keep us small. I may be in Ufa and the pandemic may be in charge for now, but my progress is sure and steady thanks to my Russian Revolution.