“Your conscience is the measure of the honesty of your selfishness.
Listen to it carefully.”
Richard Bach
Illusions: The Adventures of a Reluctant Messiah

When I was a child one of the ways the adults in my life controlled me was by controlling my conscience. As a result, I grew up struggling with guilt. It was such a relentless struggle that I would sometimes tell people that with a little effort I could blame myself for the shooting of Pope John Paul II back in the 1980's. And I was only half joking.

With time, and a lot of therapy, I'm no longer so ready to assume guilt for all the world's woes. But that doesn't mean my conscience is any less well honed. Sometimes life forces me to confront the darkness within myself and the struggle takes on all the dogmatic drama of a pitched battle with the Prince of Darkness himself.

While I have long accepted that violence is an unfortunate, and sometimes even necessary, part of life, I have never condoned it. I am frequently dismayed by the cruel and heartless natures, as well as the depth of the depravity in some human beings. I like to believe my soul is free of such malignancy.

But then, something like the assassination attempt on Donald Trump will induce such an overwhelming maelstrom of emotion inside me that I fear I am in danger of succumbing to that malignancy, at least in my heart. For while I would never seek to end another person's life, it is sobering to find I can feel abject disappointment when someone else fails in an attempt.

Those who are acquainted with me to any degree know of the depth of the animosity I feel for Trump. I have felt it since long before he ever threw his hat in the ring for the presidency. From the first time I ever learned of his existence, in fact, way back in the 1980's. When he stole the election for president, I wasn't disappointed, I was horrified, because I felt, and continue to feel, that he has the capacity to destroy the country. I never dreamed that that animosity would extend to decrying the failure of an assassination attempt, however.

So I've struggled ever since the news first broke against a part of my truth that I would prefer to have remained ignorant of. Those of faith would liken it to a battle for my soul, and maybe it is, but whatever it is, it's forcing me to acknowledge that I am capable of depravity if only in thought. I refuse, however, to allow the battle to take place secretly deep within the darkness of my mind. To do so will only allow the wounds it inflicts to fester into putrid self hatred. I worked too long and hard to clean out such an infection inside myself and I have resolved I will not allow it to return. I learned long ago the best way to deal with aspects of myself that I dislike is to look it in the eye, accept it, then dismiss it. The important things are not to allow it to control me or act on it.

There are tee shirts and memes that entice us to “Come to the dark side. We have cookies.” The promised cookies may seem tempting, but I know they're made of deadly poison. So while I acknowledge my dark side exists, I'll continue to say no to the cookies. My conscience is heavy enough as it is.

c. 2024