423. Evasive Constructions

There is something that I know I must do. I have no doubt about its necessity. Not doing it almost guarantees harm for me and possibly for others, which means it must be done. This is perfectly clear.

Still, I don’t want to do it. I would much rather do something I enjoy, and the thing I must do is not at all enjoyable. It will be a struggle, and haven’t I already struggled enough? How much struggle can one person be expected to take on? Questions like these suggest the possibility that I do not need to do what I feel I must.

I feel I must. It’s this feeling that I can’t seem to shake. It’s pressing on me, and its imposing weight demands I take action. But still I resist. I resist because it’s easy to leave the problem for another day.

And isn’t tomorrow just as good as today? There’s no reason it must be done immediately. Sure, there is a chance of harm, but one day will make no real difference. Tomorrow it will be done and the problem will be solved. Days are only arbitrary units of time and tomorrow is really an extension of today. It follows that doing it tomorrow is no big deal. Time is basically irrelevant.

All this reasoning is simple to come up with. Sliding from one thought to the next, carefully constructing a convincing justification, is just so easy to do. But it’s also true that this is something I’ve constructed. And if it’s constructed is it real? Or is it just another clever mechanism to escape from what I must do? When I examine my reasoning more carefully there is a lingering dishonesty to it that I cannot excuse.

I feel I must. The feeling won’t leave me alone. It won’t accept deviation or delay. It demands the thing be done immediately, right now. Now seems like a point in time when I try to think about it — a single point in an infinite collection of points. But when I don’t think, now feels like it is everywhere, all at once. It’s tomorrow that doesn’t exist. The only time for action is now.