The more I help others, the more I refrain from disrupting the lives of others, the more opposition I face for it, by all those not finding benefit for themselves in the doing. In a culture by design incapable of seeing the stark difference between benefiting oneself, and bettering oneself.
Power doesn’t make someone a hero, for if might truly made right then no rapist or murderer would ever be in the wrong. Wealth or authority don’t make one heroic. It is the absence of those things which makes one a hero, for then they are prompted to sacrifice of themselves, having neither the power or wealth or authority that arrive from or depend upon the sacrifices of others. Power doesn’t come from good intentions, wealth and authority do not come from good intentions. I cannot be unconvinced of this. The notion truth can ever be personal or subjective is simply the callous justification used by persons believing they deserve considerations which they themselves are unprepared to give unto others. Nobody is ever so offended by others having less rights or resources or opportunities than themselves, as they are by those having more, because then good intentions would demand they forfeit their own. I would argue that nobody granted celebrity status is a good person, as esteem is by no means fundamental to survival, but to success in achieving more rights or resources or opportunities than others, power over others, wealth over others, authority over others no matter how infinitesimal.
Holding onto scruples then, is not merely the siding with moral clarity, but resisting the lure of power, the lure of wealth, the lure of authority, all of which stand opposed to morality.
You do not have to file taxes or vote in elections insuring corporate grants and subsidies are ongoing as long as homelessness is a thing. You do not have to maintain a checking or savings account, or have any credit cards in your name for the purposes of survival, only for chasing the specter of success. You do not have to work for corporations or consume their products in order to have options in life. You do not have to rely on the marketing of others to discern what your well-being needs or wants. You do not have to empower persons already claiming for themselves more than your livelihood will ever hope to achieve. You do not have to fight on behalf of your masters, or enable any person, place or thing casual about risking the lives of others. You could instead choose to be as strong as the people around you ever need you to be, choose to truly understand grace, accepting the shortened lifespan where no fantasy can be suffered because dreams are defined by never coming true. The self-serving among us, billionaire profiteers of war and their plethora of political and religious play-things, and the entertainers inserting their own egos between you and the big picture, require your assistance, your time and space far less than do the people whose thoughts and feelings and experiences have allowed for your survival. To be sure, having no grounds for incrimination is a lonely end, but grounds-keeping of any sort is without end. Maintenance is considered a lowly pursuit; it really does have nothing to do with fixing anything, rather its concern is with maintaining so that repairs are rarely if ever necessary. The opposite to living beyond one’s means, for whichever comely pipe-dream.
True, the thoughts or feelings of anybody is priority or responsibility for nobody else, and if the branding irons you give control of yourself over to can do no wrong, you are asinine. How vile is it really, to suggest that nobody anywhere gets to determine or undermine the value of the life of another. What is self-determination if not that propensity to live by our own fates. But if the suffering of others is of any inconvenience to you, you are no less of a monster than the most powerful people ever to have lived. Evil may result from order or from chaos, but it simply does not exist outside of ego’s gratification.
I’ve never in my life been concerned with benefiting myself, and what enrages me is not these 45 years free of appeasement ranging from dignity to luxury. I am infuriated by the reality my family were never allowed to survive, not by their relatives, their friends, their co-workers or employers or neighbors or landlords. Not their government or the industries that broke them, healthcare and law enforcement and all the useless noise of pop culture. My little sister and I have had our differences over the years, I give her my all now, and seeing that nobody can be bothered to hear her crying, being as they are so all-consumed by keeping up with the imaginary Joneses they are unable and unwilling to take heed of all those unable or unwilling to prioritize fantasy, or the sad demise all those unable or unwilling to prioritize fantasy are expected to pursue. Every false hope is just a pretty lie. Perhaps, people of this culture who do not know PTSD are living off the sacrifices of others. Or maybe, when the emptiness is of someone’s own creation, it can never be filled, certainly never by all the good intentions of all the wealth and power and authority of the world. I don’t need the subservience of others to know myself or my place.
My surname translates to “keeper of the well” but I’ve only ever carried water as part of nonexistent bucket brigades, learning again and again I am to go the distance alone. All these years replacing intelligent design with scar tissue, I’ve nothing left to slay the dragon, but I choose not to feed it, or satiate its nonsensical yearnings for blood; the obsession of insects.