On Evil — Post 10: The Flip
When I get home I turn the phone off and try to let go of the day. The headphones go on, a podcast, some music, whatever book I’m listening to, and the lid comes off the cold plunge.
When I get home I turn the phone off and try to let go of the day. The headphones go on, a podcast, some music, whatever book I’m listening to, and the lid comes off the cold plunge.
You tee off clean, halfway down the fairway. A little to the side, but you can still approach the pin. The integrity of golf comes from the players’ self-governance. Rules are enforced in real time.
When my wife crosses the front door threshold after a day at work, she starts losing articles of clothing and personal items as she glides across the floor. Shoes, phone, jacket, water, purse.
When my son was born, the extra room in my house was a tomb to the bygone era of bachelorhood. Exercise equipment and collectible disc golf discs lined the walls, along with tools from the course and boxes of shirts for sale. We needed a nursery.
Stick with me here. I’m going to lead with a metaphor. A North African bishop makes a credit card swipe in the form of compelle intrare.
Every situation presents us with an opportunity. You may not always get to choose the event but you do get to choose your reaction to it.
The word evil carries some weight. It’s heavier than other words. You don’t just use it, you wield it. It lands like a verdict. Decisive. Non-negotiable.
How do we make sense of rare, extreme events that we’ve interpreted as evil? I mean the events that stop time.
I want to start with a nature analogy that will help me keep my initial argument against evil simple—because it is, until it isn’t.
I don’t personally believe that people do “evil” in general—much less willingly. I can see the look in someone’s eye when I say it.