Act of Love

Choices are neither good nor bad, just choices. Actions followed by consequences. Choices and consequences. Choices and consequences. The cycle of life that underpins the human condition. As natural a rhythm as breathing or the passage of the stars on their vast circuit around the sky. Choices and consequences. Choices and consequences.

There is of course much misunderstanding about the root of this eternal mechanism. Despite the stories of damnation peddled by those who would govern by fear, the consequences are never a punishment, more an indentured learning opportunity. It is about balancing the books. No escape. No exceptions. Action and consequence.

I look on with impassive eyes. That is my role. I am the balancer of the books.

The over-riding influence upon the Universe is to settle into a state of total equilibrium. A single point where all opposing forces balance and nothing is left except eternal stillness. Of course this point is never reached as the forces acting on the universe are ever changing. So the Universe counteracts every force with an equal and opposite reaction. This is the mechanism of the Universe. Action. Consequence. Action as a transient act of will. Consequence as a reaction to restore the balance.

Each life represents an evolutionary trajectory through time and space. As the consciousness makes choices, the outcomes influence that trajectory. My role is to correct that alteration if the influence lowers the possible outcome and to uphold the change where the course brings about greater evolution for the given soul. I am a principle. An angel with folded wings. An invisible thing hovering on the margins of perception, appearing everywhere and nowhere at once.

You may see me on times, just out of view, the shimmering grey figure of an old lady, or a gaudily dressed youth that never quite comes in to full focus. My form is whatever is needed, or sometimes just a foreshadowing of what is to come. The only constant is the little black book that never leaves my hand, containing the infinite outcomes of the Universe and the balancing actions required to restore order. I open it at the page for the events unfolding before me and will the consequential balancing action into being. This is my task as an agent of balance.

I am the shadow that follows a young man as he stoops to pick up a small satchel left beside a park bench. His action is smooth and casual to disguise the illegality of what he does. He walks on until he can find a safe place to review his acquisition away from curious eyes. He unclips the fastenings and sifts through the contents. An assortment of legal documents and a thick manilla envelope. He tips the contents of the envelope on table, spreading them out like an irregular fan across its surface, the adrenalin of theft and undreamed of success pumping through his veins.

The bag has been left behind by an elderly woman. With the increasing irrationality of mental degneration she drew out her life-savings to find a safer place for them to be better protected. Gathering all her documentation together into a bag she set off from the bank to her home, stopping for a brief rest along the way. She placed the bag down beside the bench and never thought of it again as she stood up a while later to continue her journey oblivious to her loss.

Fingering the bills, the young man started to count. $20,000. It was a huge gift from nowhere that would alter his life: a car; winning clothes; king of the party. He was set. I moved within the greyness of the room, opening my black book at the point that beckoned me. And then I stopped.

The young man did something not expected of him. He squared his shoulders, looking resolved as he gathered the bills together into a neat packet once again and slid it into the envelope. He placed the papers and the envelope into the bag, checked the bank address on the withdrawal slip and set off to present the satchel to the bank with expectation that they could return it to its owner. He had made his choice. Had taken his action.

I found the pages the little book deemed correct and willed into being the young man’s future, the trajectory corrected to account for a rare and exceptional act of loving kindness to an unknown human being.