Despair is Do-It-Yourself

We live in a world where someone else's poor choices justify our own.

It's not good enough to live a moral life, do good things, be nice to others. If someone else -- just one person out there -- is not moral, does not do good things, is mean to others, that justifies the same behavior in us.

Were it not so, but it is.

This attitude transcends politics, religion, and whatever ism we hold dear. If we say I and mine don't do it, that is a lie.

"Am I my brother's keeper?" Cain asked the angel asking after Abel whom Cain killed.

We live in a fallen world in which not a soul wants to keep or be kept.

He shifted in his bunk. The uncomfortable thoughts swirled in the darkness around him like foul water.

There must be some light, he thought. Light somewhere. Light and darkness, light and darkness. Always together. Sometimes one is dominant, then the other.

Yes. They are the only things in the world that keep or are kept.

His pillowcase suddenly felt damp. He flipped the pillow over, longed for the fan overhead to move more air.

Keep or be kept.

Keep used to mean helping others, he thought. Raising barns. Raising children. But now keep means kept: Bullied, overseen, hindered. Taxed. He chuckled at taxed.

Kept used to mean being watchful for trouble, watchful for error in self and others. And assistance and love without judgment, or at least judgment spoken aloud. But now kept means keep: Stasis, the good old days which were good for some but not for all. Ground under. The pillow again felt damp at ground under.

They say the heart of man will run cold in the last days.

I have a cold heart, he thought.

Even me.

And warming it. Warming it. Too hard. Too much effort.

Keep or kept. Does it matter now, with the world as it is? It's all sunshine, but the lying, bitter sun shining on an Earth stuttering at 20 below zero. There is light, but there is no warmth.

Hearts are cold.

He shifted.

The pillow no longer felt damp.

"So this is despair," he thought.

Isn't it wonderful?

He pulled a blanket over his head.

Effortless, you see. And you get used to it, when you realize you don't have to share it with others because they already have it. Joy requires effort. Materials and blueprints. And other people. Despair is do-it-yourself.

Do it yourself.

"Go away," he said. "Go away."

His poor choices lined up in his mind for consideration.

Oh well, he sighed. He began to sort them, one by one.