I found some books in a box on the side of the road, outside a hospice shop.
Many of the books were famous ones I wanted to read.
I decided to take ten of them home with me.
I trotted off down the road loaded like a pack mule feeling rather guilty.
Once I rounded the corner anxiety turned to racing thoughts.
Was I stealing? Was it wrong to take something on the side of the road? I hadn't paid for them? I decided fifty or so metres down the road I would simple dip into a few and then return them outside the store the next day or so.
Something inside me remained unconvinced.
Certain philosophical thoughts also raced through my head: was I acting out the truth? Would this decision haunt me for life? I recalled an Aristotlean scholar who said there were certain decisions we made that could have far long-lasting effects on our lives than we cared to realize! Was I setting myself up for future problems? Was the present me trying to benefit the future me? but really undercutting his ethical and moral standing for the smallest of financial benefits? Did those with little money steal more? Was I to blame for my sullen deed? What did my shadow think about the matter?
I consulted the darker aspects of my psyche! It was rather happy to steal the books.
I paused multiple times while walking down the hill to my house.
The idea of having the books in my room sickened me.
In fact, visual images of mud started to appear in my mind's eye.
Yes, a sense of uncleanliness had overcome me.
This simply wouldn't do, and yet I wanted the books, but did I?
I had to look through them all again, my little horde of jewels!
The one book I wanted the most was one I already had!
I know that sounds rather mad, but the one in my hands, or on top of the pile was a much nicer edition — the cover and font were better.
I thought long and hard then walked on — toward home.
I paused again.
My stealing my moment of weakness had it been driven by my unconscious? I felt it wanted me to remain ladened by guilt!
I let it go.
I returned and walked back, the way I had come. A lightness overcame me.
An ocean of cortisol inside me began to dissipate.
I was simply going for a walk again.
When I placed the books back near the box I noticed a cover had been placed over the books. Some unsuspecting soul had also been tested.
I placed the books back where I had gotten them.
Next to the box, not in it. I couldn't touch the box anymore. Too painful.
I placed the pile down and walked away.
My breathing steadied.
I had been tested, at first, I failed, but then I succeeded. (As the cheesy saying goes).
I overcame my unconscious through the strength of conscious perserverance.
What a bloody relief!
The truth had been lost and then recovered — and all in the span of about 20 minutes.
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