by Don Hall

There had to be a moment—a split second, really—before Derek Chauvin made the decision to put his knee into George Floyd's neck to incapacitate him. He couldn't possibly have known that the consequences of this choice would kill Floyd and spark a simmering rage that would explode across the world and destroy any semblance of the life he envisioned for himself. Despite that moment, he rushed into the decision fueled by emotion. Once committed, he could hardly back down because that's how we all are. Once we throw ourselves into a decision to act, we almost always have some stubborn pathology to complete that action. The people screaming for him to stop, Floyd's own exhortations that he couldn't breathe, the turmoil of smartphones recording couldn't give him pause—he had already raced past the point where choice was at play.

Similarly, the day my third ex-wife was propositioned by a random guy in a van, to have sex in the vehicle for $100, there was a choice. It's likely, given her tendency to bike around Vegas dressed like a teenager from the ‘90s, that she had been solicited hundreds of times before that moment and had chosen to decline. It's likely that she had stepped out of the marriage dozens of times before moving to Vegas and certainly she was already in a secret bump-and-grind with the bass player of a local metal band, but the decision to take money for sex on the side of the road had not been acted upon. There had to be a moment—a split second, really—before agreeing to climb into the van when she wondered what the fallout might be but once the decision was made, she was fully committed to it. Like Hannibal burning the bridges behind his advancing army, there was no turning back.

In the A24/Netflix limited series BEEF, both of the main characters make decisions at the same time, based entirely on emotional response. Certainly, this moment in time—a honk, a flip-off, a driving away and the choice to follow enraged—were the consequences of the straw that breaks but the choices are made with out a second of pause. It's an excellent series and you should watch it.

A friend loves true crime shows. Watching one about a husband who obviously murdered his wife she throws up her hands. "Why do people do this kind of stuff? Are they mentally ill?"

People make bad decisions all the time and primarily out of some spark of emotion. People do this kind of stuff not because they need to or even think past the moment but because they think they can get away with it.

Hold on to that for a second.

We do questionable, potentially dumb or unethical things in part because we think we won't get caught doing it. We don’t pause for a second to wonder about the consequences if we do. There is a lot of anecdotal information to support this myopic view—people getting away with it is as common as GenZ kids claiming something harmed them—and each of us thinks we are somehow immune from the inevitability of blowback.

Here's the thing: the bill will always come due.

Is this karma? The very Western perspective that karma is getting what you deserve or justice for wrongdoing seems both limited and punitive for such a concept. According to the people who created the term, karma is about the future within the framework of reincarnation—the idea that the good deeds in one life affect the next—rather than one act begets a consequence. Within the one life (and that's all I can focus on) there are plenty of examples of bad behavior unanswered and good behavior unrewarded. That said, the bill? It always come due in some way. We reap what we sow whether in large "I didn't mean to kill school children in my narcissistic expression of my own low self-esteem" ways or small "maybe I shouldn't have eaten all the hummus last night" gestures.

Andrew D. Lester, the man who shot the the kid who rang the wrong doorbell, could've used a moment of pause. The cat is eighty-four and now, the rest of his limited time on the planet will be bathed in controversy and maybe prison time. There was that split second moment when he chose to grab his gun that he could have paused and took a mental knee. A split second when he opened the door, pistol in hand, when he could have contemplated the consequences of shooting a stranger at his residence. He didn't take those opportunities and all hell broke loose.

Among those of us who are most impulsive, who leap long before we even bother to see what's below, the idea of a pause before making a grand gesture (or even a simple choice) is difficult. It takes practice. It takes an effort to make taking that pause a habit during low stakes choices so it kicks in when you think that someone is breaking into your house by first ringing your doorbell.

Do I want this bag of fentynal-laced doughnuts or the celery?

[PAUSE] The doughnuts sound dee-licious but with sugar, the calories, and the potential overdose maybe the celery is a more sound choice. No pause, you’re probably wiping sprinkles off of your foamy mouth as you gasp your last breath. Celery ain’t as much fun but it isn’t deadly.

That fucker cut me off in traffic! Should I honk and flip him off, screaming at him words he cannot hear or just let it go because no one was harmed and I’m not really in that much of a hurry?

[PAUSE] Flipping him off feels good but if you’re in a Red State or Chicago, he probably has a pistol in the glove compartment, which means at best you’re getting a bullet hole in your Kia. Maybe let it go.

Maybe I should have a kid?

[PAUSE] I mean, really, pause. Pause and put it back in your pants. Talk about a dice roll. Your kid could be awesome but probably just average but there is a better than half chance your child will be below average or actively destructive. You think those parents of school shooters are congratulating themselves? There’s an upside in that you’ll have someone to take care of you when you’re dying but, man, what if your kids turn out to assholes? At least think on it for a bit so you can only blame yourself when he sets fire to your couch.

I’m lousy at this pause thing. I am, however, practicing.