Snippets from the Handbook 6

Therefore let your will to avoid have no concern with what is not in man's power; direct it only to things in man's power that are contrary to nature. 

But for the moment you must utterly remove the will to get; for if you will to get something not in man's power you are bound to be unfortunate; while none of the things in man's power that you could honorably will to get is yet within your reach. 

Impulse to act and not to act, these are your concern; yet exercise them gently and without strain, and provisionally. 

—Epictetus, The Handbook 2 

Jottings on Marcus 8

Through not observing what is in the mind of another a man has seldom been seen to be unhappy; but those who do not observe the movements of their own minds must of necessity be unhappy. 

—from Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 2.8 

For so many years, I couldn't get any sleep, because I was always worried about what she might be thinking. 

It only began to get better when I attended to the quality of my own judgments, and I learned a bit about how to discern between the good and the evil within myself. 

The ugly impressions will still present themselves, but now I firmly remind them why they belong to me, and not to her. 

This works far better than drinking whiskey or counting sheep. 

IMAGE: Edvard Munch, Sleepless Night: Self-portrait in Inner Turmoil (1920) 

Owls 22

IMAGE by Ray Brown 

Seneca, Moral Letters 87.10

“That which, while we are desiring to attain it, involves us in many evils, is not a good. But while we are desiring to attain riches, we become involved in many evils; therefore, riches are not a good,” 
 
“Your first premise,” they say, “contains two meanings; one is: we become involved in many evils while we are desiring to attain riches. But we also become involved in many evils while we are desiring to attain virtue. One man, while travelling in order to prosecute his studies, suffers shipwreck, and another is taken captive.
 
“The second meaning is as follows: that through which we become involved in evils is not a good. And it will not logically follow from our proposition that we become involved in evils through riches or through pleasure; otherwise, if it is through riches that we become involved in many evils, riches are not only not a good, but they are positively an evil. You, however, maintain merely that they are not a good.
 
“Moreover,” the objector says, “you grant that riches are of some use. You reckon them among the advantages; and yet on this basis they cannot even be an advantage, for it is through the pursuit of riches that we suffer much disadvantage.”
 
Certain men answer this objection as follows: “You are mistaken if you ascribe disadvantages to riches. Riches injure no one; it is a man’s own folly, or his neighbor’s wickedness, that harms him in each case, just as a sword by itself does not slay; it is merely the weapon used by the slayer. Riches themselves do not harm you, just because it is on account of riches that you suffer harm." 

—from Seneca, Moral Letters 87 
 
My head has now been stuffed with this philosophy nonsense for so long, that I find certain passages to be downright humorous, as if they were egghead versions of the classic “Who’s on First?” skit by Abbott and Costello. 
 
For me, this letter is full of such hilarious exchanges, where the Peripatetic remains tied to the notion that “things” must either be good or bad, and he cannot conceive of the Stoic insight that the value is not in the circumstance, but only in the use of the circumstance. 
 
The Stoic: “If money were really a good in itself, it would never be an occasion for evil. And yet you only have to spend some time in a room full of bankers to see how easily it is abused.” 
 
The Peripatetic: “So now you’re going to tell me that walking is evil, because I might trip and fall while I’m on my way to school? Should I never get on a boat, because there’s a chance it will sink?” 
 
The Stoic: “The walking and the sailing are to be treated as indifferent, with the benefit or the harm being relative to the virtue or the vice within us.” 
 
The Peripatetic: “But you’re the one who said that riches aren’t a good, and if they aren’t a good, then they have to be an evil. So, which one is it?” 
 
The Stoic: “It’s neither, until we choose to make something of it.” 
 
The Peripatetic: “Ah, that makes it appear very bad. Are you claiming that money is always bad?” 
 
The Stoic: “I didn’t say that.” 
 
The Peripatetic: “Then money must be a good, which is what I I’ve been saying from the beginning.” 
 
The Stoic: “No, it depends. It doesn’t have to be good, and it doesn’t have to be evil.” 
 
The Peripatetic: “Well, it sounds like you are pointing out all of the downsides, as if there aren’t any upsides.” 
 
The Stoic: “I am conscious of both, just as I know how a sword can become a tool to defend, or a tool to oppress.” 
 
The Peripatetic: “Oh, so now you want to ban all the swords too? What kind of weirdo are you?” 
 
And so on . . . 
 
In the simplest of terms, the critic won’t distinguish between the merits of what we do and the conditions under which we do it, between the dignity on the inside and the trappings on the outside. 
 
He is not yet willing to think beyond the standards of acquisition, possession, and consumption, like a yuppie who defines himself by his stock portfolio, his wine cellar, and his squash club membership. 

—Reflection written in 2/2014 

All Nature Has a Feeling

"All Nature Has a Feeling" 

John Clare (1793-1864) 

All nature has a feeling: woods, fields, brooks
Are life eternal: and in silence they
Speak happiness beyond the reach of books;
There's nothing mortal in them; their decay
Is the green life of change; to pass away
And come again in blooms revivified.
Its birth was heaven, eternal is its stay,
And with the sun and moon shall still abide
Beneath their day and night and heaven wide. 

IMAGE: J.M.W. Turner, Buttermere Lake (1798) 

The Stranger

"The Stranger" 

John Clare (1793-1864) 

When trouble haunts me, need I sigh?
No, rather smile away despair;
For those have been more sad than I,
With burthens more than I could bear;
Aye, gone rejoicing under care
Where I had sunk in black despair.

When pain disturbs my peace and rest,
Am I a hopeless grief to keep,
When some have slept on torture's breast
And smiled as in the sweetest sleep,
Aye, peace on thorns, in faith forgiven,
And pillowed on the hope of heaven?

Though low and poor and broken down,
Am I to think myself distrest?
No, rather laugh where others frown
And think my being truly blest;
For others I can daily see
More worthy riches worse than me.

Aye, once a stranger blest the earth
Who never caused a heart to mourn,
Whose very voice gave sorrow mirth—
And how did earth his worth return?
It spurned him from its lowliest lot,
The meanest station owned him not;

An outcast thrown in sorrow's way,
A fugitive that knew no sin,
Yet in lone places forced to stray—
Men would not take the stranger in.
Yet peace, though much himself he mourned,
Was all to others he returned.

* * * * *

His presence was a peace to all,
He bade the sorrowful rejoice.
Pain turned to pleasure at his call,
Health lived and issued from his voice.
He healed the sick and sent abroad
The dumb rejoicing in the Lord.

The blind met daylight in his eye,
The joys of everlasting day;
The sick found health in his reply;
The cripple threw his crutch away.
Yet he with troubles did remain
And suffered poverty and pain.

Yet none could say of wrong he did,
And scorn was ever standing bye;
Accusers by their conscience chid,
When proof was sought, made no reply.
Yet without sin he suffered more
Than ever sinners did before. 

IMAGE: William Blake, The Agony in the Garden (1800) 

I Am!

"I Am!" 

John Clare (1793-1864) 

I am! yet what I am who cares, or knows?

     My friends forsake me like a memory lost. 

I am the self-consumer of my woes, 

     They rise and vanish, an oblivious host, 

Shadows of life, whose very soul is lost.

And yet I am—I live—though I am toss'd 

Into the nothingness of scorn and noise, 

     Into the living sea of waking dream, 

Where there is neither sense of life, nor joys, 

     But the huge shipwreck of my own esteem

And all that's dear. Even those I loved the best 

Are strange—nay, they are stranger than the rest. 

I long for scenes where man has never trod, 

     For scenes where woman never smiled or wept; 

There to abide with my Creator, God, 

     And sleep as I in childhood sweetly slept 

Full of high thoughts, unborn. So let me lie, 

The grass below; above the vaulted sky. 

IMAGE: Laurits Andersen Ring, Walking in a Rye Field (1905) 

The Mother Road 18

The Basel Dance of Death 21

Matthäus Merian, The Basel Dance of Death: The Abbess (1616) 

"Gracious and pure Lady Abbess, 

How do you have such a small belly? 
Still, I will not hold that against you, 
I would sooner bite myself in the finger." 

"I have read from the Psalter, 
In the choir before the Lord's altar. 
Now no praying will avail me, 
I too must here follow after Death." 

Ellis Walker, Epictetus in Poetical Paraphrase 66

LXVI. 

Doth any one bathe earlier than the time 
That's usually observed, or drink much wine; 
Censure him not, nor say 'tis not well done, 
Say only, he drinks much, or washeth soon. 
For why should you, 'till you have understood 
His reasons, judge his actions bad or good? 
Perhaps he washeth early, with intent 
Thus to refresh himself with watching spent. 
Whate'er your grave sobriety may think, 
In him perhaps 'tis temperance to drink; 
Perhaps his constitution may require 
More wine, his lamp more oil to feed its fire. 
First know the reasons then you may proceed 
With safety to dispraise, or praise the deed: 
Thus will you never any action blame, 
And then on second thought commend the same. 

William Hogarth, Industry and Idleness 4

Many of my peers are so on fire with the struggle for social justice, that they feel the need to despise anyone who is rich, condemn all forms of profit, and cry out for the abolition of property itself. They look at me funny when I suggest that it is not money, but the love of money, that is the root of all evil. 

Given my predilection for sticking it to the man, it took me some time to appreciate the difference between affluence and avarice, and I still need to remind myself why worldly success is entirely compatible with good character. Indeed, if we all chose to play our parts with integrity, and refused to be tempted by sleazy shortcuts, then the wonderful scene depicted here would be the rule, and not the exception. 

Hogarth presents us with an example of good business, in the best possible sense of the word. By proving himself worthy of trust, Francis has now been granted a position of authority, gaining control over the weaver's keys. ledger, and cash. This is as it should be, and it reflects well on both the dedication of the apprentice and the fairness of his master. 

The gloves lying on the desk appear as if they are two hands shaking, which is a perfect image for how any honest enterprise should operate. Sadly, we are far too familiar with workers being exploited, which blinds us to the fact that the greatest gains are always the result of friendship and cooperation. A profit is not selfish when it is distributed according to merit instead of privilege. 

Observe the demeanor of the master: he is proud of his achievements, and he is proud of the young man who has worked together with him. Observe the demeanor of the apprentice: he stands with a glorious combination of confidence and reverence. I wish I had a boss like that, who would offer me such familiarity in return for my service. 

In case there is any doubt that things are going well, the man delivering supplies is wearing the livery of the Corporation of London—a government contract is usually a good sign! The calendar hanging by the desk shows an allegory of Industry assaulting Time, for it is within our power to make the most of the moments we are given. 

The standoff between the dog and the cat may represent the contrast between Francis and Thomas, which in turn symbolizes the deeper conflict of diligence and indolence. Though my own preference has always been for cats, I can accept why a stalwart companion is more reliable than a shrieking ball of fur. 

I would humbly suggest that tearing down the free market is not the best solution to inequality. If it is truly free, then all of us will have the opportunity to prove our worth, and there will be no need for resentment and recrimination. I can decide to begin with myself. 

Matthew 25:21 

Well done good and faithful
servant, thou hast been faithful
over a few things, I will make thee
Ruler over many things. 

William Hogarth, Industry and Idleness 4: The Industrious 'Prentice a Favourite, and Entrusted by His Master (1747) 

Udana 1.3

Thus have I heard. On a certain occasion the Exalted One, soon after the attainment of Buddhahood, dwelt at Uruvela on the banks of the stream Neranjara, at the foot of the tree of Enlightenment. At that time the Exalted One, after remaining in a sitting posture for seven days, experienced the bliss of Emancipation. 

When the seven days had come to a close, the Exalted One arose from the state of trance and in the last watch of the night thoroughly thought out the chain of cause and effect in both the direct and indirect orders. 

Now by the complete destruction of Ignorance, there is cessation of Conformations. And the Exalted One in this connection, on that occasion, breathed forth this solemn utterance: 

"When the conditions of existence dawn upon the strenuous, meditative Brahmana, 

He stands, scattering the hosts of the Tempter, as the Sun, diffusing its rays through space." 

Sayings of Publilius Syrus 202

Vain are his prayers who cannot grant a prayer. 

IMAGE: Jacques-Laurent Agasse, Androcles and the Lion (c. 1810) 

Plutarch, The Life of Cato the Younger 33

Elated by this success, Caesar introduced another law, which provided that almost the whole of Campania be divided among the poor and needy. 

No one spoke against the law except Cato, and him Caesar ordered to be dragged from the rostra to prison. Cato did not any the more remit his bold utterances, but as he walked along discoursed about the law and advised the people to put a stop to such legislation. 

Moreover, the senate followed him with downcast looks, as well as the best part of the people in silence, though they looked annoyed and troubled, so that Caesar could not fail to see that they were displeased; but he was obstinate, and expected that Cato would resort to appeal or entreaty, and therefore had him led along. 

However, when it was clear that Cato did not so much as think of doing anything of the sort, Caesar was overcome by the shame and infamy of his course, and by his own secret persuasions induced one of the tribunes of the people to rescue Cato. 

Nevertheless, by these laws and by other favors Caesar's party so cajoled the people as to get a vote passed giving to Caesar the government of Illyria and all Gaul, with an army of four legions, for five years, although Cato warned the people that they themselves by their own votes were establishing a tyrant in their citadel. 

They also unlawfully transferred Publius Clodius from patrician to plebeian rank and got him elected tribune of the people, a man who, in order to secure Cicero's banishment as his reward, was using all his political influence for the gratification of the people. 

For consuls, too, they secured the election⁠ of Calpurnius Piso, who was Caesar's father-in‑law, and Aulus Gabinius, a man from the lap of Pompey, as those say who knew his ways of life. 

Seneca, Moral Letters 87.9

Hence, good does not spring from evil, any more than figs grow from olive trees. Things which grow correspond to their seed; and goods cannot depart from their class. As that which is honorable does not grow from that which is base, so neither does good grow from evil. For the honorable and the good are identical.
 
Certain of our school oppose this statement as follows: “Let us suppose that money taken from any source whatsoever is a good; even though it is taken by an act of sacrilege, the money does not on that account derive its origin from sacrilege. 
 
“You may get my meaning through the following illustration: In the same jar there is a piece of gold and there is a serpent. If you take the gold from the jar, it is not just because the serpent is there too, I say, that the jar yields me the gold—because it contains the serpent as well—but it yields the gold in spite of containing the serpent also.
 
“Similarly, gain results from sacrilege, not just because sacrilege is a base and accursed act, but because it contains gain also. As the serpent in the jar is an evil, and not the gold which lies there, beside the serpent; so in an act of sacrilege it is the crime, not the profit, that is evil.”
 
But I differ from these men; for the conditions in each case are not at all the same. In the one instance I can take the gold without the serpent, in the other I cannot make the profit without committing the sacrilege. The gain in the latter case does not lie side by side with the crime; it is blended with the crime. 

—from Seneca, Moral Letters 87 
 
The effect will always be a likeness of the cause. Do not permit the sophists to perplex you, because this is a matter of logical identity, and their usual dilemmas are derived from jumbled accounts of the good. 
 
Go back to the beginning, recognizing why our human good is defined by our human nature, through which any other conditions can thereby become beneficial or harmful to us, and then you will no longer be troubled by the contorted conundrums. 
 
I could go on for pages and pages about the gold and the serpent example, along with dozens of others that are intended to trip us up, but I will resist the temptation. It is enough to know how the problems arise from being distracted, by fiddling about with the circumstances alone, instead of relating them back to the proper measure of our understanding. 
 
The critic’s analogy falls short, since the good or the evil is through the disposition, and not, strictly speaking, in either the snake or the money: I do not have to do anything harmful in order to get at something profitable. 
 
Some time ago, I was deeply frustrated by a friend—I use the term loosely—who refused to tell his girlfriend that he was also seeing someone else on the side. I nagged him incessantly to come clean, to be honest about his intentions, on the grounds that nothing would go well for him if he failed to uphold his own integrity.
 
“What use is the outcome—whether you end up with both of the girls, or one of them, or neither—without the knowledge that you have been a stand-up guy?” 
 
He resisted, of course, and offered many reasons why he could continue to maintain the deception, without any painful consequences. Indeed, he seemed to have convinced himself that he was doing the kindest thing, by not allowing a revelation of the truth to upset anyone’s feelings. 
 
“What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.” 
 
“Is it your call to decide what she should or shouldn’t know? The best way to help her make the right choice is for you to make the right choice. It will end poorly, not because you will cease to be gratified, but because you will have failed to take any responsibility for yourself.” 
 
He’s a very successful sort of fellow now, though I fear he has yet to learn anything about being a decent sort of fellow. I unfortunately know he is still lying, when he brags about how happy he is. 
 
A few years later, I was on the receiving end of a similar subterfuge, and while I felt great agony from being tricked, there was a far greater sadness from seeing someone I loved turn into a person who was unwilling to love. The good in your life comes from how you choose to give of yourself, not from what you can conspire to receive for yourself. 
 
I cannot isolate the circumstances from one another, based merely upon my preferences, or act as if committing a sin is somehow necessary for getting ahead. It is a conscience, whether informed or deficient, that will bind it all together or tear it all apart. 

—Reflection written in 2/2014 

IMAGE: Vincent van Gogh, Olive Trees in a Mountainous Landscape (1889) 

Storm on the Sea 35

Henry Ossawa Tanner, Ship in a Storm (1879) 

Ruins 25

Hubert Robert, Fantasy Ruins with Fountain and Figures (c. 1780) 

Memento Mori 18

Anonymous Dutch, Memento Mori (c. 1530) 

Vanitas 103

Damien L'homme, Vanitas (1641) 

Chuang Tzu 6.15

Tsze-yü and Tsze-sang were friends. 

Once, when it had rained continuously for ten days, Tsze-yü said, "I fear that Tsze-sang may be in distress." So he wrapped up some rice, and went to give it to him to eat. 

When he came to Tsze-sang's door, there issued from it sounds between singing and wailing; a lute was struck, and there came the words, "O Father! O Mother! O Heaven! O Men!" 

The voice could not sustain itself, and the line was hurriedly pronounced. Tsze-yü entered and said, "Why are you singing, Sir, this line of poetry in such a way?" 

The other replied, "I was thinking, and thinking in vain, how it was that I was brought to such extremity. Would my parents have wished me to be so poor? 

"Heaven overspreads all without any partial feeling, and so does Earth sustain all—would Heaven and Earth make me so poor with any unkindly feeling? 

"I was trying to find out who had done it, and I could not do so. But here I am in this extremity! It is what was appointed for me!" 

IMAGE: Ma Yuan, The Yellow River Breaches Its Course (c. 1200)