If we take the time continuum to be a week, with ‘Monday’ being the ‘Dark Ages’, controversial and yet unexplored by science eons before Homo Sapiens came along, ‘Tuesday’ being two millennia of human history, packed with wars, revolutions, reformations, progress, ups and downs, searches, discoveries, and losses, then the present time is ‘Wednesday’, calm and serene compared to the previous ‘days’. We like peering into the bygone eras, full of fury, beauty, frightening ferocity, magnetic might, irresistible passion, and all those iconic utopias & anti-utopias, gained and lost. On the one hand, ours is a trouble-free time, saturated with gadgets, making our lives comfortable & easy, with so few flashes of wars or revolutions. We have even reached outer space and might as well make the galaxy a holiday destination, as popular as tropical islands. On the other hand, everything seems somewhat shaky and vague – as if we were standing on tip-toe, trying to see what’s beyond the horizon, expecting a train bound for a bright future to pull in any minute, no one knowing the route, carriage number, or arrival time. Things are changing sweepingly, with the usual boundaries deleted and the genders, identities, nationalism, and geography transformed in ways unseen before. Present-day humanity is unwilling to continue the old world’s legacy. The inheritance left by the previous generation has become outdated before being inherited by the next one. Heritage, often viewed as a material gain, has been replaced by its down-to-earth synonym – inheritance. Just like mankurts, we forget traditions, prefer watching to reading, and rather than singing lullabies for our babies, hand them over to digital nannies. At table, our children and we are both stuck in our smartphones. Peering into the abyss of the black mirror, we lose our genetic memory and selfhood, while this bottomless pit breaks the bonds, making us unique.
Striving to forget the past and construct a future, we only lose our present. Even if we think ourselves abler and smarter we should keep the heritage of the past. In each of us are fibres, binding the past with the present.
My heritage is the patterns of my Granny’s carpet, featuring her raven-black curls, fairy-tale characters, Cossack songs, stories about her hard lot, her wisdom, experience, and motherly instructions. Imbibing all that wealth, I had no idea how to use it in my life. They say heritage and inheritance are different things, but not for me. My heritage is that good old gramophone music, those evening talks with Dad, Grannies’ fairy-tales, Mom’s style, and her perfume, helping me feel her presence in her absence. All those sounds, smells, hugs, stories, and fellowship I will always carry in my heart. This load is not heavy. With all that, I’ll never be alone. And locking eyes with my baby boy, I will be singing a lullaby for him, just like Mom did for me, Granny had done for her, and so on from times immemorial. May the times change as they will, and Tuesdays turn into Wednesdays. That’s all right if we are still who we were yesterday. And if we have a heritage to leave and heirs to inherit it.