Dear [Sagacious],
I believe that there is no line except the one that exists within our selves. Each instance is experienced from different perspectives, and right and wrong is determined by conscience (true desire), and the relative importance and urgency of each factor affecting the choice being made about them (though I would say "by them," as I believe all of our choices are already made, based on who we are, which is who we choose to be). I believe that there is a "gray area" when a life is threatened, and one life or the other would be taken; though I believe this gray is made up of the absolute black or absolute white which exists in each separate situation. In each case, it is the nature of the choice makes it right or wrong - intention determines its purity or evil, love or hate.
What we are taught to this day, that first lie, the "original sin," what is accepted (to my knowledge) universally amongst nations and sects, is that my proximity to a life is believed to be the determinant of its importance to me - the closer a relationship I have to this person, the greater lengths I can go to to defend them, with my choices guarded by this bond - nothing more than my selfish desire to choose that the life I am most familiar with is more valuable than one unfamiliar to me. What I know is that, if it truly IS me that chooses who I am, then this proximity should matter not; my substance should be determined by what it is, my own gravity, not that of others. Only I can feel where my true center exists; only I can determine what the right choice is for me to make.
And the last bit of the paradoxes constituting the paradoxical whole: I think that this accepting the predetermined necessity of the approbation of society grants us a false comfort in having our decision made for us by the image of society that we create for ourselves. It is an unnecessary excuse - an apology for being what it is that we are, and the donning of the garments and upholding of the flags and standards of an oppressive entity that does not exist outside of our imaginations.
And I am having trouble thinking in a straight line, or capturing my thoughts with the usual quality of my locution in tact. My head begins to spin with the infinite complexity woven from that one simplicity and my perception of it - just like observed physical existence and the progression of dimensions from a "point," something that is nothing more than a moment. It gets pretty bright up there sometimes.
Once again, no proofread. Okay, no second or third proofread, one of those - I skim my work as I write, which I allow is proofreading - but the connotation with which I use the word "proofread" is to, upon completion of an entire draft, undertake re-reading with the intent to discover and correct mistakes. That's how I'd phrase it, anyway.
Glad to Have Been Found Familiar in Soul,
Edward
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