Kant, Buddha and a Twenty on the Ground

I had two ethically interesting things happen to me tonight, one right after the other. I was walking out of the grocery store past a bus stop where two cops were standing just outside of their car. I don’t know why they were there, nothing seemed to be going on. Anyway, as I’m walking I look down and I see a twenty dollar bill at my feet. At about the same time another guy, about my age, also notices the bill. We looked up at each other, then at the cop right next to us, then back to the money on the ground. There was a moment of silent deliberation between us, then the cop said “Guys, it’s a twenty somebody pick it up.” The guy and I looked at each other again and the guy gestured for me to take it. Knowing it’s rude to accept a kind gesture, I picked up the money, smiled a thank you and walked away. Wow, a twenty for nothing, that’s weird. I wondered as I walked the bus stop across the street if that was some experimental setup by social psychologists or the like. Of course, it wasn’t, but being a student and living in San Francisco you must have a paranoia or conspiracy theory of some sort.


So I’m walking away contemplating the situation; if the cops hadn’t been there would there have been so much deliberation about taking the money? If the guy hadn’t been there would I have taken the money or maybe given it to the cop (why would I do that though)? Would the guy have taken the money if the cops weren’t there? I know what I would have done if neither the cop nor the guy were there. Just a few weeks ago I was in Barcelona walking on a pier around the same time of night, around ten or so, there were other people around but they were all at least 50 feet away when I found twenty Euros on the ground. I stopped, looked at the bill, looked up and around, picked up the bill, looked around again, then hesitantly walked off. I felt bad, that money wasn’t mine, I didn’t deserve it and surely who ever lost it would be upset. Then I thought, if I had just left it there someone else would take it, most likely not its rightful owner, so why shouldn’t I be the someone else? I still felt bad and decided I would do something good with it. Of course, after a drink or two I forgot about doing something good with it and bought myself more drinks.


So, back to tonight, I remembered the twenty Euros and my plan to do something good with it which didn’t happen. I decided this was a second chance, I wouldn’t feel bad this time. I just wouldn’t plan on doing something good with it, then when I blow it on candy and booze I wouldn’t feel bad. Just as I came up with this brilliant plan of self-indulgence, a homeless-looking man approached me asking for change. I reacted the way I usually do to this kind of request, I looked away then mumbled “No, sorry.” Then instead of hurrying away like I normally would, I stopped and looked at his face, I held out the twenty I still had in my hand and told him “I just found it on the street. You take it.” I refrained from saying anything patronizing like “You need this more than I do.” He said thank you, then looked at the bill and realized it was a twenty he looked back at me as if I was crazy, then thanked me profusely, which embarrassed me a little. He went in to the corner store at the bus stop and came out with some food and thanked me again. I told him, “Look, I just found it on the street, it’s no more mine than it is yours.” We waited for the bus and he kept looking at me a smiling while keeping his distance, because, I think, he didn’t want to make me uncomfortable, which was nice of him.


I felt really good but really bad at the same time. I’ve thought way too much about ethics, and now I feel bad for feeling good about doing good. I’ve always had this feeling that doing good things shouldn't come from a desire to feel good. These feelings were only refined and intensified by Kantian and certain Asian philosophies. Not an hour before this situation, I was sitting in my Asian Philosophy summer class talking about the Buddhist philosophy of detached compassion. The idea that true compassion comes from a still mind, one that doesn’t dwell on good deeds done, rather does good deeds naturally, like breathing, without judgment of the situation, deliberation, or selfish motive. I couldn’t stop thinking about the homeless man and how good I felt about giving him that money, then how bad I felt about feeling good for such an obviously correct act. I felt good and bad, I tried to still my mind, I tried to focus on the present. I was sitting on the bus not doing anything good or bad, that was my present, that was what I should have been interested in, I couldn't focus, still can’t, obviously.


So this is my conclusion: Doing one good deed makes doing the next good deed easier, the more good deeds I do the less I will be affected by them, thus making me a better person. Feeling good about that deed is natural, I recognize that feeling, analyze it and let it go. Small things can be the most profound learning experiences. From this I learned I must do more good deeds and be patient with my progress to become a truly moral person.