Of acts

I have a fixation, well, I have many but I would like to write about one in particular. Since early life I have been obsessed with the desire to distinguish and label things and events in good and bad. Many times I blame my Catholic upbringing for this judgmental approach towards life. The years have questioned, fractioned, reversed and erased those categories. Nothing is steady. Much less my distinction between good and evil. The fact that bad is still associated with evil shows our religious standards when arranging words. Now, at the age of 30, I have not solved the basic moral dilemma of what is wrong and what is good for myself; I haven’t even decided if I want to question open or if I just want to clear it from my life and let events occur as they are without judgement. This, of course, is a utopia. There are moral standards in every action, even when the action in question is against other or, supposedly, “all morality”. Can we act without morals? What is an act? I consider an act a process through which someone goes in order to affect something. I, personally, do not consider mere pleasure as an act, or is it? Is pure hedonism a mode of action? If yes, then I believe it is supported by a set of believes, by a will. Or is it that everything – existence – is act and that we cannot stop affecting our surroundings? Existence is action as some philosophers would argue. Then, if our lives are a continuum – non-stoppable- series of acts; should we then develop a morality that suits us best? One with which we are comfortable? If we, by living, actively affect the world we inhabit how to proceed? I recently read a short story written by Zweig, it depicted the life of a man that was kind, intelligent and who was born with a vast set of talents. He could do what he pleased but the search of goodness was his foremost priority. Life, as to everyone, happened to him. He started as a soldier, then he became a judge followed by a monastic time to end up as the poorest man in town taking care of a dozen of dogs. He was haunted by the affection of his acts, he felt paralyzed. He moved slowly and thoughtfully towards inactivity. But even rocks are active. We all do, even by not doing. And the most tricky part about this matter is that acts act by themselves. Once they are acted they gain a life of their own, we cannot control them. Meant acts are our brat children. So, there seems to be no purpose distinguishing good from bad, bad from good. To the date I haven’t read Nietzsche’s book on the subject, I will certainly DO so. A friend recently told me that the meaning of life was the pursuit of justice. Another friend, not so recently, told me that life was everything but just. That justice was an illusion. Justice is represented as a blinded woman, a person who cannot see her acts. Is it better to be blind and carry about a weight wherever you go?

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