I was driving to a nearby mall to make some necessary purchases but my mind was addressing the use of the phrase 'moral equivalence.' Too often I find it seems to mean that our killers are not as evil as someone else's killers.
I parked the car, got out, and stood by the trunk. I turned my shopping list over and made some notes with a pencil stub I carry with me. Since when does morality require a test of validity? Is there a registry of values to be applied to morality? And if there is...#*&+!
Suddenly a beetle the size of a penny landed on the tiny paper list I was using. Impatiently, I flicked it away with a finger. Instantly I felt remorse. What if, I thought, that beetle came with a message for me, for my thought. What made it land on that little paper scrap at the point of my pencil? What have I done?
Yes, this is a fair description of my daily confusion. Trying to navigate between old age and living in a culture extremely different from the one I was formed by. A ceaseless grasping for mental handholds.
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