Mundane Ethical Dilemma

3.7.11 Early Afternoon

This morning when you went for a jog after your early class you notice a $20 bill lying in the gutter of a suburban homes driveway – there’s a newish van parked nearby. You look around. You pick it up. It’s wet from the water in the gutter so you wipe it off inside the pocket of your running shorts. There’s the thought that goes: ring the doorbell and ask if someone had dropped it. But you’re dull and jumbled. You stick it in your pocket, look around again and continue on your way.

While you jog you encounter a few thought-movements related to the banal moral dilemma. Could this be an experiment? – stick a twenty in the gutter and watch what happens from behind a fence? No, highly doubtful.

You are brought to an insight you had some few months ago while emailing Tom. Amongst the emotional resistance and arguments of the thought-movements you recall that ethical thinking comes about primarily when faced directly with a dilemma; it comes about secondly after the dilemmas themselves occur, when one begins to wonder if what one had done was ‘right’; and thirdly, ethical thinking springs up from the encounter and identification with stories, but at much weaker strength.

Your emotional movements stimulate the ethical dimension of the ‘lost’ bill. It goes: perhaps someone dropped it and will ‘need’ it. Or, you have not earned the money, and you also do not ‘need’ it. And, it will be growth-centered if you ring the doorbell.

You jog along listening to music and reacting to the narrative in your mind about what to do. You think about what you could do with the money. A haircut? You felt unattractive this morning and could use the twenty to get a haricut – smooth things out. And, as if to add support to this trajectory, you remember one time when you were younger that you’d lost the same amount of money while riding your bike – a lot of money to you then. This is reasonable, it says.

There’s a counter argument, though. It goes: you do not ‘need’ it, and it is not yours. There’s a recalling of what the ‘commissaris’ says in one of Janwillem van de Wetering’s Amsterdam detective mysteries – “I have not seen much of the Law, but what I have seen has effected me.” You think that returning it may be good. For instance, it would clarify some of your jumbledness this morning. Is this sufficient though? A negative aspect of yourself says it isn’t, that there’s a sort of childish stupidity about it. Yet it is not so. You are not doing it so as to be a ‘good boy’ or merely to feel better about yourself and the world. You feel that a voluntary action aimed at returning the money would help the ‘world’; that is, the quality of the movement would be noticed – perhaps not initially, but later – by the lost money’s owner, and that they would then be in a position to contact this ‘quality’ themselves in their further movements. Perhaps not use it just yet or ever, but they would feel it.

You think that the thinking is not necessary – all of those thought movements are confusing. At the moment of noticing the bill, the feeling was the guided argument. But then the thought came in and you reasoned about not feeling particularly up to ringing the bell because there was an anxiety about dealing with people. Perhaps the early feeling was the higher emotional center, the ‘thinking’ was mechanical.

And so you flip back and forth. There are some times your swayed by both impulses. Yet you finally side with the ‘qualitativenss’. You walk up the steps after jogging back to the house with the van. You ring the doorbell and wait. You ring it again and wait. You wonder if you might just put it under the doormat. The door opens up, suddenly. A girl about your age, attractive in a fleshy sort of way, blonde, but not uninteresting and dull. She’s sleepy looking, dressed in shorts and a baggy white shirt.

You tell here the story, leaving out that you jogged about with the money in you pocket before returning it. She opens the door the whole way and you hand it to her. You don’t ask it if it’s hers. You feel sweaty. She say’s: you’re nice to do that, have a nice night- I mean day.

Well, there we are.

A Night Out And A Walk Back To High School

You walk to your old high school with Shane today. You plan to time each other running a mile around the track. You tell him about yesterdays outing with Garrett N briefly. You say that you probably won’t hang out with him anymore unless it’s with a group of people. You’d hoped he had a part of him that was genuinely grounded and growth-centered but you didn’t really encounter it.

Yesterday afternoon you go to the café, drink coffee, write about the ‘narrative’ that you have developed with Nick, and read from ‘The Transparent Self’. When you finish your latte you spend an hour or so in the library reading some more.

You get the idea to call up Garrett N., perhaps talk to him about writing – the purpose, the impulse, and the function.

You pick him up around five. You decide to eat Mexican food. He mentions that Austin might be on his lunch break around the time we will be eating. Maybe he could eat with us?

You like Austin, but you wish to see Garrett N. alone so that you may see if he has anything to say about writing. However, you don’t know how to go about maneuvering this kind of thing. Before Austin arrives you sip your hot tea and ask Garrett N. what it is that he goes about doing when he writes, what is the movement that brings one to it? He thinks about it and then gives through away answers until Austin shows up. You eat one tamale, a chicken taco, and rice and beans. Austin mentions the plot of a horror movie that you think about throughout the night.

Walking out Garrett N. wonders if what else we might do. He mentions a billiards bar not to far away. You might be able to talk to him more intimately there.

You order a Heineken. They don’t take plastic. You’ll pay Garrett N. back. You play some pool. When people begin to show up it becomes clear that Garrett N. hasn’t much to say to you really. He takes a lot of smoke and bathroom breaks. He talks to a lot of nearby patrons. You end up sitting by yourself much of the time waiting for him to come back to take his turn. When he returns he apologizes profusely. He does this ad nauseam. You think about leaving; you text Vanessa and Shane as something to do. You don’t really drink because you’re driving. When Garrett N. does talk to you its about music, panic attacks, or our small circle of mutual acquaintances. You’re bored, unconnected, and tired from hiking the day before.

Austin shows up around 9, and a whole bunch of other familiar people drizzle in as well. You notice Kelly, and Everett and his girlfriend. Perhaps you’ll play music with Kelly in a day or two. You have to tell Everett about your situation with school because he wonders why you’re not in Washington. You ask him about VTC.

Near 10:30 or so you finally get up the nerve to tell Garrett N. that you’re going to take off. He asks if it’s cool that he can finish his beer. While waiting you notice Doug, an old high school friend. You stand and watch him play pool for a minute before initiating conversation. It is so weird to see him. You catch each other up briefly. There’s a lot of unresolved stuff between you and him but it’s not too hard to talk. He gives you his number and tells you to give him a call – he’s in town for a while. Perhaps it would be good to meet up with him, figure things out.

Garrett N. ends up staying at the bar. He gets a ride from a friend’s friend who plans to stay until they throw him out. You stand outside and talk to the guy while he has a cigarette. He offers you one and you take it – well, you take Garrett N.’s, because he pulls his out faster. He’s pretty cool actually, Ryan. You both laugh at this guy that Garrett N. starts talking to: a car salesman who starts free styling. This other guy walks out to smoke and stars talking to you too. He’s Hungarian and works for a drinking water company. He starts talking about not trusting people, not even himself. You say that that’s pretty natural, not trusting yourself. He say’s that he thinks he is talking to a shrink; you go: maybe it’s the collared shirt. When you say goodbye and leave he tells you to remember what he said, but he didn’t really say anything because he was mumbling and drunk.

You make some tea for yourself and Garrett (your brother) when you get home. You talk to him about Avatar The Last Airbender. You check your grades online before you go to sleep. You passed your life management course but not your statistics one.

You walk from Shane’s house to the track. He begins to talk about his relations with a young woman who you vaguely remember from high school. He spends a lot of time articulating himself about it: she has just finished university, is back in town, is potentially moving to Chicago soon. He has recently spent good time with her, growth-centered, intimate, caring, I-Thou time. But there arises some blocks. The relationship began with the notation that it was casual and potentially finite. Shane has come to appreciate and care, nevertheless. As she heads to Chicago for an interview of some kind Shane wishes to see her off correctly. Perhaps there is a need for her to maintain control of those factors that commit her – she is after all only 22, just out of the forming institution. Shane wants to see her the morning she leaves – not too sure why, but thinks its right. He reads you some text messages: he comes off as a bit irritating and clinging perhaps. She reacts a small bit, boxed in, suggests she is disappointed in him, didn’t we address the ground rules? From here Shane begins to be possessed by the potentiality that it’s not as important to her as to him, just another notch on the old belt. He goes over all this with you. You get him to further articulate and translate. You wonder what he wants - from you here and now, from her. You suggest the interpretation that comes to you most warmly: that even though she supposedly never gets angry, finds positive in his weaknesses, and is refreshingly mature – things he finds appealing about her - that she was feeling not so competent about her interview, has not yet defined their relationship to herself, that the two pulls resulted in an imprisoning feeling. You suggest that he write about all of this to himself, that ‘what to do’ will drain out of it. You say its good that you have experienced this kind of thing, it opens yourself up to yourself. Emotional intelligence is about filtering out those possessing movements and reinstating activity that you can will, can get behind. You say that when you meet her next that he should prepare for it, get silent to himself.

You run a mile around the track as Shane times you. You get tired on the third lap. You think about Vanessa – a sort of uplifting image or trajectory. It helps some. You stay with your breath and your body when the pain sets in. Shane says 5:03 when you finish the third lap. You pick up your pace, its not so far really. You finish at 6:38. You hadn’t done this, really tried to run a mile, since perhaps junior high. You’re reasonably satisfied.

You walk and jog with Shane a bit afterwards. You talk rather loudly about erections, now versus in high school, as this fellow passes by on the track. When you sense someone behind you, you turn around. He goes: Its okay, I can just pass you by here. He walks on the grass to your left.

You walk back to his house talking about the meaning of Donnie Darko, the death of the community, and ‘honesty’. You plan to go to waller park to eat and chill out. You make tuna sandwiches, walk to your house, put on warmer clothes and have some tea.

You listen to the Donnie Darko soundtrack on the way. Its just right. When you eat the sun is going down and the wind sets about a chill but it becomes clear to you how wonderful and just-so it is being with Shane. He is the type of person you can be yourself with. It’s good that you are friends. Its not bullshit at all.

When you drop him off, you don’t even talk about what you are doing. Its just obvious that this is what we are doing. It is just-so. It means we are tired, but not tired of each other. He says lately he has been looking forward to taking showers. You say that you keep expecting to run into Tom. That every gray haired slim fellow you walk past makes you turn your head to get a glimpse. He says that today was a good day, that he tries to think about the day near the end of it. You listen to nice music from the 5^th and 6^th Harry Potter films as you drop him off. The first track is somber and the second track is whimsical. You take a bath when you get home. Trish talks with you in a wonderfully warm way regarding school. She hugs you and wants you to be doing it for you. You say you will sleep on what to do regarding your failed class.