I’m surely not Jain.
- cdavid508
- Jul 2, 2020
- 1 min read
No one likes to think they’re the purveyors of doom. Sometimes you just stumble into the role. Case in point:
It’s late. I’m a little high, yet tired. It’s been warm today. I walk into my bathroom, turn on the light, begin to wash my face and brush my teeth. I’m hot, so open the unscreened window.
Suddenly, a half dozen moths are flying about, beating their wings desperately in an orgasmic light delight.
Can I help it that they fly in and become suicidal? Yet somehow i feel it’s my fault.
In the court of Karma I plead Happenstance:
I turned on my bathroom light to brush my teeth. My goal: Exterminating millions of one-celled microbes residing there. I feel no sorrow about this mass extermination. Yet now I’m feeling guilty about a more organized group of cells, aka, moths, which I unknowingly extended an invitation to doom.
Stupid moths. Just had to interrupt my evening toilet; fly in and do your Hari Karis in front of me while I'm fighting fighting caries.
Guilt delivered on gossamer wings.
Nicholson Baker wrote a play called Checkpoint that's just two men debating each other. I don't remember it well but the one part that stuck with me is when they're discussing the morality of abortion and one guy challenges the other to define at what point it's no longer okay. "When the fetus is the size of a cockroach? The size of a mouse?"
Interesting to think about what moment another being makes you feel guilty for killing it and how fluid that line can be. I may feel bad for this ant I'm stomping on but we're having chicken for dinner.