On Understanding Divisions

Let us examine roots and gravity of young wisdom,
that which we come across, when we are still children.

My first wisdom was in how I faced violence,
I nobly took no part in it, I only pushed people back, I never became like they were.

And right here,
we have a wisdom that we can examine.

My main bully was twisted and cunning,
likely instructed by his father.

We used to be school friends,
and then he started fighting me for no reason.

He didn't just attack me,
but turned everyone against me.

He was probably a puppet,
in his father's sick game.

And if not, then pretending to be hurt by someone,
was maybe his way of making friends.

I remember when he was forced to share his glue in 4th grade,
when he got back a mangled tube he cried that his father would beat him.

The change in that boy was irreversible,
his attacks continued, and at least in my view they were elaborate.

This is a young person,
who became completely unreachable, and incapable of reason, possibly emotion.

He was a normal person at first,
but then became warped, and to me he became a monster.

Whatever happened to him in the span of a day or two,
happened because he was too young to see he was being manipulated or warped.

If that event could have been prevented,
he would continue growing up like a normal boring person.

Even though this was fourth grade,
we were perfectly capable of spotting trouble.

Whatever got him, was invisible to him,
his father most likely, used his lack of experience to warp him.

As he started making friends and perhaps spreading whatever lies about me,
it was more advantageous to him to remain a bully that plays a victim.

His father was no longer needed,
he entered a different life line.

He and his friends, eventually got caught lying,
and the school psychologist who intervened in me pushing him away the last time.

Cracked the case, as two of his friends were supporting his side of the story,
and she made them confess the truth.

The young Psychologist woman came into the class room,
put her hand on my shoulder and said everything is going to be OK.

But my class was manipulated by the boy,
few minutes later, one of the smart girls that I grew up with said that they didn't want me in the class room.

They saw me as the bully that starts fights,
the final skirmish begun as I was trying to save the class comedian from getting beat up.

To my surprise both of them started fighting me,
and the main bully joined in.

I grew up surrounded by bullies,
I had no trouble getting them away from me.

The friends of the bully got together few days later,
and started kicking and spitting on me on our way back from school.

It was between eight and twelve of them,
as I was getting up maybe for the fourth time as they kept pushing me off balance.

With the concrete of the sidewalk digging into my fists,
I understood how powerful I have become for not fighting them back.

To me they were opportunistic predators,
some would come to kick when I was down others waited to knock me down again.

Eventually they got tired,
and allowed me to walk away without anymore shoving.

I took a different path,
and started crying, not because I was hurt, but because how alone I was.

The main bully had another wave come in,
this time it was older kids that were five years older.

They made a circle around me and one of them kicked me in the head,
it was a spin kick no doubt, it didn't hurt.

But fighting older kids that I have not really seen before,
and seeing that they had outside clothes on, I stayed down.

No one came to help, the girls saw the whole thing bu they didn't come to help,
I think everyone was just sacred of older kids.

I wasn't hurt, I was just not moving,
this was Russian language class, and the teacher was mad that I was late.

I stopped going to school as to me it became a circus,
then after few months I go punished and graduated fine, as the teachers didn't wan trouble.

Even though I lacked experience,
I still did all the right things.

I didn't attack back, I stayed down,
when I could smell a knife in the skinhead-jacket pocket of one of the bullies.

And set myself free from school,
by becoming a student of pixel art.

I spent my time away from school at the biggest arcade in the city,
I didn't have money to play, but I loved watching other people play.

My favorite games were Asterix & Obelix, and The Simpsons,
I liked Blanka from Street Fighter II, and I liked how technical Streetfighter was.

When Wolfenstein 3D came out in Poland,
I was not impressed, 3D graphics destroyed Pixel Art, but Pixel Art will rule again someday.

I had to make a choice to break away from everyone else,
as they were sick, or mislead.

The boys in my class wanted to keep together,
sometime after the event I described, I've noticed them role playing boxing.

They asked me if I wanted to fight too,
they were now honorable fighters in their head.

They kept together, because nobody want to be alone,
b8ut that also meant that they were reinforcing each other's behavior; rather than acting on their wisdom.

Where I experienced power, strengths, wisdom and independence,
they were not growing up correctly, they were drifting in the direction of where the group was going.

Sometimes I consider if mandatory military service that we had back then,
actually fueled violent behavior, in preparation for what seemed like more violence, but parents were causing most of the harm.

I remember I had a choke hold put on me by another friend,
but I had no interest in hurting him to get out, his father who beat him with the hose from the washer, was teaching him how to fight.

I probably caused the situation, but inflicting pain was not a healthy response on his part,
some years earlier he said that he wished he grew up watching horror movies so that he had no fear.

There was another boy who was violent but never towards me, when his father found out that his grades were bad,
he took him to girls' restroom and beat him up - his personality change was instant - it was very visible and painful to watch even then.

I remember him stealing stuff after that,
his father ruined his mind - though I think he is a good person now.

I would have ran to help him if I was wiser,
if back then I knew what I know now, I would have sprinted to attack his father, to stop the boy from becoming a thief.

With all I have learned from the bullies,
I would take him down by sliding into his feat and punching his nose, really hard, as I was no stranger to nosebleeds.

I'd tell the police that his father was hurting him,
and I was just protecting him.

That's probably why the girls didn't need much convincing that I was a bully,
I was breaking up fights, to get the bullies to stop hurting people because I sensed what it meant, and I saw bullies make bullies.

But it wasn't fighting,
just pushing the red faced snarling beasts back.

Do you now remember how there are these tiny events when we are young,
that dictate all the rest of our lives ahead?

That's wisdom; not philosophy, education, schooling, cultures, heritage,
but the most powerful force there is: wisdom.

It comes from our warrior nature,
but then it flourishes and grows to make us Great And Peaceful Philosophers.

It is easily stunted by group think,
by doing what others do to satay with them as friend.

But more than that, these tiny events in our youth also often mark points of no return,
at least not for a long while.

I see myself as nothing if I took the disgusting path to be friends with the bullies,
who later ended up attacking one of the special needs girls, and again the other girls barely raised their voice, to their credit I remember it being raised.

Hopefully they figured out the cool boys were monsters,
and to stay safe and away from them, and and protect their sister, special needs does not mean that someone is broken, just that they need real friends.

I felt like an outsider, I didn't know I belonged anywhere,
I didn't know I could find that Psychologist lady that helped a year or two before to rain her amazing wrath, I didn't know to become friends with the Principal, or call the Police.

I trust the girls that I grew up with to take care of her,
I just know they looked after her, we were a family together for almost a decade.

When I left for America,
I was glad to leave the bullies behind.

There was one more bully in Brooklyn,
but having watched NYPD Blue, I knew I could call the police, and to tell then not to press charges.

NYPD broke up the gang,
the mothers stepped in.

And right before I came to Michigan,
the bully barely whimpered "Fuck Poles".

He was not racist, he was just made sick,
he didn't hate white people, so he picked the Polish people to hate something.

He too had a an opportunity to go to the Library and search for wisdom,
rather than going to the boxing club to get good at fighting.

In the 20 minute walk back from school,
he punched me maybe four times in the back of my head, full force, full theatrics.

Once we made it to the street we lived on,
I finally turned around to his punches.

I was ignoring them before, as I became an artist when it came to bullies,
we were maybe seventeen or so, and his boxing instructor was, bad.

He opened up with a full volley with punches to my face,
it only made it red for long enough for NYPD Blue to get a full picture of what they need to do.

Like the bullies in Poland,
this boy needed wisdom.

When his brother or cousin, or mad uncle was saying white people are crazy but poles are worse,
he needed to walk away from that conversation.

Better yet,
here is what he needed to say to his stupid uncles face:

Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever ides may be
For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
In the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloodied, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds and shall find me unafraid.

It matters not how narrow the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate,
I am the captain of my soul.

In a a way all this boy needed was a poem,
a thing that would help him grow the necessary wisdom against hate.

My bullies were monsters,
but they didn't hate, they relished inflicting pain, but they had no hate in them.

This boy,
did get poisoned by it.

I think the police to underline the gravity of the situation,
never told him I didn't press the charges, but just kind of left it hanging in the air.

Hate of any kind of group of people as a teenager,
is a lot of evil to handle.

Rejection of hate requires a culture of wisdom very early on,
a young person must immediately reject divisions.

In that case by Brooklyn Bully,
could chose to reject the family members that propagated hate, or permanently become a hater.

Though his Mom would be proud,
the path of rejection of hate and division could make him an outcast.

From the perspective of old man him,
he only had one real choice, Become a Philosopher, and and make those who spread hate the outcasts.

He needed to become someone capable of inspiring his family to Wisdom,
and away from that which is not worthy of us.

He had an opportunity to become a Philosopher, and change the world,
but he became a bully, that to me, is a big of a tragedy as the friend who got beat up by his father and instantly warped.

Do you see,
and are you able to see it in the strangers you came across in your lives.

They are being pushed,
because they lack wisdom and experience.

The trick made by a family member looking for affirmation to their own hate,
or looking to simplify their own life.

I believe that every violent person,
had an opportunity to become a Philosopher, but it was stolen from them.

Violence, Division, and especially Hate,
are so incredibly alien to us, that it is like breathing toxic air.

Those things do not emerge in children,
they are put there, and always deliberately.

It takes root because like cults it holds answers,
plugging up questions, and offering a target for hate.

Long before a child is made ill by a broken, mind warping idea,
there is a long stretch of time when they are more than capable of comprehending Greatness.

Restraint, Dignity, Nobility, Unbreakability, Fortitude, Courage, Honor, Love;
and Insight; and Foresight; and Understanding; and Authenticity; and Heroism.

These are the ideas, that when taught early on,
will immunize against the easier wrong, and bring a young person a feeling of ennoblement for choosing the harder right.

Ladies and Gentlemen,
we are not divided, we are not different, we are one family.

We are to repair schools, and end poverty,
and prevent the propagation of broken ideas that only give an impression of answers while keeping a person imprisoned within the invisible walls of hate.

Walls that prevent a person's Wisdom and Greatness,
from ever reaching the heights that are worthy of them.

We are one,
one family under the sun.