Someone asked me last night, if I thought humans (as a whole) were fundamentally good or evil. I thought to myself, “what do I know about human nature?” How can I begin to answer a question like this.. it is simply too complicated for a mind such as mine to contemplate.
Staring into the distance, my sight arrested by the city skyline before it could wander too far, I tried to organize my thoughts on the subject only to discover that those very thoughts were non-existent. Still I plunged ahead, furrowing my brow and spurring my sleepy mind into motion. But all that came forward were more questions… what does it mean to be good? what is it to be evil? What criteria can we apply to such things? Of course in some way these things are simple; ie. murder=bad, charity=good .. but I feel as if it runs much deeper than this. Can a fundamentally good person not commit a murderous crime, and vice versa, a fundamentally evil one act out of selfless charity?
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As is natural when confronted with a question of such untenable philosophical nature, I turned a mirror against myself to try to find some truth within my own body or “soul”. Assuming myself to be human, and further assuming that as such I may present a singular case study of human nature, should I not find answers in my own actions and convictions? So I asked myself, can I be defined by either of these two concepts, good or evil, and if so from what well do they spring? Honestly speaking, at different times in my relatively short life I feel as if I’ve displayed both of these characteristics, but to what end, to achieve what? It seems that for one to truly question their very nature, a study of motivations is required.
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But motivation is murky and never entirely selfless. Does an act require an abject dismissal of self interest to be considered truly good? More questions, always more questions.. questions leading not to answers but always to the smoky half-truths kept behind the curtain of casual thought. If the curtain is drawn in constant, how and from where do I act and decide? Center stage you will find the external, that which beads on your skin like so much perspiration. This is what people see, and what, most of the time, you may choose to present to your surroundings. We call this reality, and it is the truth and substance of the everyday, on which we build our forthright understandings of others. And yet we all acknowledge, don’t we, the underneath.. the not forgotten background that serves as a backdrop, a visible one to be certain, to our everyday understandings. Within this backdrop, I feel, we can find the undercurrent of the self.. that bubbling brook from which all our presented reality sparkles and appears as if by magic.
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We understand this, I imagine, and acknowledge it as real and observable. Consider someone, addressing a friend or a family member, feeling them out, hearing their words. Those very words, are they not tainted and bent by the backdrop of experience? I see this clearly, background and center stage working in concert to realize a full picture, a scene from which we take our personal truth, understanding gleaned from the connection of the two, a sort of unspoken duet.
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But further back now, the relief upon which the backdrop is painted… something lays behind that, something to which the core of human experience and understanding is indelibly married. Its behind this relief, this so called curtain, where I must look for the answers to all these questions. Behind this, I will find enlightenment. Not so.. for the very word enlightenment is at odds with the darkness, the very absence of light which inhabits the place. It is in this place that our hearts turn asunder and recoil from misunderstanding. Is it from here that true goodness, and true evil are born?
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Without sight, I picture myself there, on a throne of wax. Drool seeps from my gaping maw and I stick to my infirm chair, holding it steady with my weight and with my faith. The wax could melt with heat or break brittle from cold, but it holds strong as long as I sit there. In my left hand, I hold a babe, by one ankle. It is red-faced and crying, squirming in it’s upside-down stupidity. In my right, an apple.. large and green with life, not without blemish, but true in it’s imperfection. At my feet there is paper, scrawled and scratched with everything that I’ve ever said and done, and still with that which I haven’t, and am yet to. In the darkness I see this, sightless but not blind.. rather with the mind’s eye, if we can call it by such a name.
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This man. This me. This king. Where in him do I see either good or evil, proposed singularly in either thought or action? Where in him is there a line drawn between the two? Instead he contains both, is both, simultaneously. Sometimes the babe shrieks and he shakes it, but always it is there. Sometimes the apple is pushed forth, to feed some hungry stomach, but always it returns. One right, one left. Neither wrong, only there, in evidence, and singing in unison.
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So what answers can I have for this someone? With what can I return and say, “Yes.. here it is, a generality of absolutes wrapped up tight and tied with a bow, to leave at your doorstep.” I have done terrible and wonderful things both, neither defining the totality of my life, but always presenting little moments, glimpses behind the curtain. Selfish and selfless. Good and evil. All at once. What answers you ask? None I say, none but these words… this muddled pool of nothing, germinating and heaving from the cesspool of my mind. Take it like this, and hold it close.
Gunslingrrr
