“Let us consider it then.”
Was it right, I ask, for you, being affectionately disposed to your child, to run away and leave her? Is her mother not fond of the child?
“She is indeed.”
Should the mother then have left her too, or should she not?
“She should not.”
What of the nurse? Is she fond of the child?
“She is,” he said.
Ought she then to have left her?
“By no means.”
Again, is not the child's attendant fond of her?
“He is.”
Ought he then to have gone away and left her? Was it right that as a consequence the child should be thus left desolate and helpless because of the great affection of you its parents and of those about it, or should die in the hands of those who had no love or care for it?
“Heaven forbid!”
Once more, it is not fair or reasonable, is it, that a man should not allow others equally affectionate with himself to do what, because he is affectionate, he thinks proper for himself. It is absurd.
However I might feel, and whatever I might choose to do, the right act will always be an act according to reason, not because morality is merely cerebral, but because it is only possibly for me to do what is good if I first understand why it is good. It is my thoughts that give meaning to my passions, and it is my awareness that informs my deeds with purpose.
It is a surefire sign that I am straying from the good when I treat it in an inconsistent and contradictory manner, where the principle is compromised for the sake of convenience. I remain confident that other people should act with care and concern, and yet I simultaneously consider myself exempt from acting with the very same care and concern. That man over there should surely do it, but because I believe that I am special, the responsibility does not apply to me.
And so it is, that just as all virtue proceeds out of wisdom, so all vice proceeds out of ignorance. Where sound judgment is lacking, there can never be any good living.
Hence the official finds it obvious that a mother, or a nurse, or a servant should express their affection by being present, though he can apparently express his affection by being absent. His choices have become crooked, since he isn’t thinking straight.
Many instances come to mind where others have used such a double standard around me, yet casting blame has a way of feeding my resentment. No, let me look within myself for an example of wanting to have it both ways.
From an early age, I would distance myself from people whenever I was feeling fearful or insecure. This could take the form of averting my eyes, or refusing to engage in conversation, or crawling off into a corner with a book.
It became quite the habit, and while I figured I was just protecting myself from injury and pain, there was a part of me that wanted someone to come after me, to seek me out, to prove me wrong in thinking that there were no kind and decent folks. If they didn’t do so, it gave me an excuse to be bitter.
With that sort of a temperament, you’d think I would have been far more sensitive to other people calling for help, and yet I still cringe at the memory of the times I walked away when someone else was clearly reaching out. My motive throughout was somehow keeping myself safe and secure, even as it expressed itself in a glaring contradiction: I expected everyone to take a risk in being kind, except myself.
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