Sacrifice is an abstract concept. And, as a concept, it's helpful to imagine it as some type of road. A path of sacrifice, can lead to values, and lessons, that would be otherwise, unattainable. Nobility, can be earned, through a path of sacrifice. Honor, and self respect may be acquired. The longer, the path of sacrifice is, the more there is to be received in the end.
There's a catch though. Although you can hope, for the acquisition of these lessons and values. It's not guaranteed. In fact. The whole notion of abstract paths is a lie. Life isn't a road. It's life. Sacrifice can be required, sure, but there's not much gained through it. That's the point of sacrifice. To lose something, to give to another and to receive nothing in return. Perhaps, you can gain some sense of satisfaction, or maybe somebody will be paying attention and congratulate you. If you're lucky.
This is what is going through my mind when we realized that the plane was going down. Sure, I mean, you always think to yourself 'women and children first'. However, in practice? It's a bit more difficult than that. I start thinking to myself. Five parachutes. Twenty passengers. Ten of which are women and children.
I think they used to do the whole women and children first thing to keep on with the survival of the tribe or race or species. All things of which, I personally feel no allegiance to. Time is running out here. People are starting to panic. I'm not the pilot, I'm not responsible for this. I'm not going to die so that some complete strangers live. Am I?
Everything that I've ever seen, read or heard on this subject matter, is telling me, as a man, that I need to let them live, and allow myself to die. That's what I've been told. One of the kids might cure cancer or something. I'm not going to do that. My life is expendable, to save them.
Is it though? Would they even learn my name? They don't look like the kind of people that would learn my name. Besides, what the fuck is my name? My name isn't breathing in air, enjoying a cool wind in the sun. My name isn't alive. I am alive. I want to stay alive.
Why women first anyway? Isn't that kind of sexist? Are they more required than me? Aren't we all supposed to be equal? Kids sure, they're young. But the world has more women than it does men. So what the hell, right?
The pilots are putting on parachutes, children are crying. Men and women are screaming. I'm right beside a parachute. I could grab it and put it on and be free and alive.
Here's one thing that they always forget to tell you about sacrifice.
It's a choice.