Still, there is something unsettling about saying that the intention of doing good is all that ultimately matters…

However, the second — avoiding experimentation on others — is a major issue, because it causes you to doubt the propriety of your own actions.

Let’s break this down. What does it mean to experiment on others? It means that you are performing some action on another whose outcome, both in yourself and in the other, is unclear. Furthermore, in this context of unselfishness, the intent of the action is to benefit the recipient.

Why is this bad? Because the aggressive pursuit of unselfishness compels you to consistently perform such actions, but potentially contradicts the positive intent. It’s like giving ten pills to a sick patient who needs only one — you might feel unselfish in having given the pills, but you’ve jeopardized the patient’s health.

Life in society is constant experimentation, so that’s not the part that concerns you. Instead, you want to know — is there a way around this, a way to pursue the quest of unselfishness without needing to risk hurting others? I believe there is. Just as a doctor vows to do no harm, the practitioner of unselfishness must subscribe to ahimsa — avoidance of the willful injury of other living beings. And on the few occasions where the doctor does harm the patient by accident, where the seeker of unselfishness does hurt someone by accident, instead of castigating yourself for having erred, learn from the mistake and recalibrate your actions. Exposure to the risk of hurting others is an occupational hazard of the spiritual seeker who chooses to live in society.

After World War II, when the Allied forces liberated a concentration camp, one soldier was moved to tears by the sight of the starved victims of the Holocaust. Remembering that he must serve his brothers and sisters of the world, he pulled some food out of his rucksack and distributed it to the skeletal figures. Walking away with his heart a little lighter, he met his commander, who witnessed the noble gesture.

“You realize you just killed them, right?” the commander asked.

“What?” responded the soldier.

“Their digestive systems are too weak to handle the food, and will rupture. They’ll die of internal bleeding.”

The commander was right. But was the soldier’s action unselfish? I believe so, especially since now, the soldier has learned a lesson about serving others which will translate to every other concentration camp he visits. Similarly, the seeker of true unselfishness who chooses to live in society may occasionally err, but the only issue would be to make the same mistake twice.

I believe that through compassionate action and learning from mistakes, one converges upon true unselfishness.

What do you think?