What we owe each other.

For millennia, mankind has tried to devise all-encompassing schools of ethics in attempts to define what is just and unjust, agreeable and disagreeable, worthy of social praise and worthy of social ostracism. Schools of metaphysical thought were some of the first formal constructs that defined guidelines from which its followers were expected to abide by. Each modeled the creation of the universe and our presence in this world. They discussed our obligations to ourselves and to others, or lack thereof. (One might call some of these social constructs religion.) Written documentation of such guidelines and a growing literacy amongst followers facilitated dispersion worldwide.

Meanwhile and in some cases soon after (and in other cases much later), the buildup of empirical evidence on the known universe and the physical properties of this world led to a revolution that allowed science to take precedence over older (and some would argue obsolete) schools of metaphysical thought. We dropped questions regarding metaphysics and instead directed our focus to the present state of society and how to remedy its shortcomings.

We thought more about what we owed to ourselves, our partners, our friends, our families, our neighbors, our communities, our nations, and to our international counterparts. Suddenly our perceptions of such obligations required stronger cognitive effort to take into consideration things like political correctness, diplomacy, and pre-nups.

The funny thing is that throughout these years of thinking, though we have an idea of what's right and what's wrong, nobody can completely agree on how to make a universal set of morals. Take this cartoon on Utilitarianism, for instance:

What exactly makes people happy? And in the same regard, who are these people, exactly? Do things make us happy because we have arbitrarily associated happiness to such things, or do they have an intrinsic happiness factor inherent within them?

*****

One of my good friends was recently diagnosed with a serious chronic infection. I may be one of the only people that he's told. Nevertheless, I haven't seen him in months. I want to see him, believe me--to comfort him, help him run errands, do silly stupid things with him, just to offer some sort of strength and support--but any form of contact with him always turns into failed attempts.

I told him that I would be open to him when he's ready to talk or just hang out. I can't help but wonder if the reason why he's avoiding me is because facing me would mean having to face his illness. Heck, even I'm having a hard time accepting it all.

I want to be there for him, but it's not easy being there for someone who is too preoccupied with himself that he can no longer show compassion or show appreciation for or towards others (uh, ok, by others I mean me). Needless to say, I can't even imagine what's going on in his mind. As empathetic as I can try to be, I lack the insight because I lack the understanding.

All I can do is remain receptive and go along my merry little way. Though it's hard to be merry with this constantly looming in the back of my mind. How are you? Where are you now? How have you been?!

*****

What do we owe to ourselves and to our friends? Altruistic behavior, in a biological sense, has been documented in several animal species as a means of contributing to the survival of the community at one's own expense. However, all this begs the following questions: How much is too much and how little is too little?

We enter social contracts like friendships, assuming that the relationship exists for the benefit of both parties. Yet, how much benefit is one party getting if the other feels like the unwilling recipient of the two girls one cup smoothies (bonus points if you got that)?

Trying to end on a somewhat positive (though admittedly disgusting) note,

Shopgirl.