There is a little fascist accountant inside my mind. And I suspect, in yours to.
There is this little voice that keeps tracks of the wrongs done to me and the wrongs I have done. It keeps track of the things I recieved from others. This part of my brain does its level best to coordinate my givings. At best, it tries to break even.
We don’t much challenge this voice. Self help books speak of how we have this bank account between us all, and that we place deposits in these accounts and we make withdrawls.
If this is a perscription of how we should be, (rather than a description of how we tend to be) then all is lost.
When I am engaged in act of service, the voice of the accountant is the first one to tell me serving time is over. When I hit a bump in the road toward serving, the voice of the accountant is the first one to say, “Oh well, you tried.” When I make a token attempt, say, vaguely, “What can I do to help?” and the person has nothing to say, the accountant promises me that the person will let me know if there was something I could do to help.
If our fundamental nature is that of a consumer than our fundamental act is consumption. If we are meant to consume the world, then we are meant to consume the people in it. They are her for our benefit only. We are within our rights to ring them out like a wet sponge and leave them drying for somebody else to rehydrate.
What a terrible way to live.