A Stoic Breviary: Classical Wisdom in Daily Practice
Building upon many years of privately shared thoughts on the real benefits of Stoic Philosophy, Liam Milburn eventually published a selection of Stoic passages that had helped him to live well. They were accompanied by some of his own personal reflections. This blog hopes to continue his mission of encouraging the wisdom of Stoicism in the exercise of everyday life. All the reflections are taken from his notes, from late 1992 to early 2017.
When Diogenes was dining in a temple, and in the course of the meal loaves not free from dirt were put on the table, he took them up and threw them away, declaring that nothing unclean ought to enter a temple.
To the man who said to him, "You don't know anything, although you are a philosopher," he replied, "Even if I am but a pretender to wisdom, that in itself is philosophy."
When someone brought a child to Diogenes and declared him to be highly gifted and of excellent character, "What need then," said he, "has he of me?"
Those who say admirable things, but fail to do them, he compared to a harp; for the harp, like them, he said, has neither hearing nor perception.
Diogenes was going into a theater, meeting face to face those who were coming out, and being asked why, "This," he said, "is what I practice doing all my life."
Their physical doctrine the Stoics divide into sections (1) about bodies; (2) about principles; (3) about elements; (4) about the gods; (5) about bounding surfaces and space whether filled or empty.
This is a division into species; but the generic division is into three parts, dealing with (i.) the universe; (ii.) the elements; (iii.) the subject of causation.
The part dealing with the universe admits, they say, of division into two: for with one aspect of it the mathematicians also are concerned, in so far as they treat questions relating to the fixed stars and the planets, e.g. whether the sun is or is not just so large as it appears to be, and the same about the moon, the question of their revolutions, and other inquiries of the same sort.
But there is another aspect or field of cosmologicalinquiry, which belongs to the physicists alone: this includes such questions as what the substance of the universe is, whether the sun and the stars are made up of form and matter, whether the world has had a beginning in time or not, whether it is animate or inanimate, whether it is destructible or indestructible, whether it is governed by providence, and all the rest.
The part concerned with causation, again, is itself subdivided into two. And in one of its aspects medical inquiries have a share in it, in so far as it involves investigation of the ruling principle of the soul and the phenomena of soul, seeds, and the like.
Whereas the other part is claimed by the mathematicians also, e.g. how vision is to be explained, what causes the image on the mirror, what is the origin of clouds, thunder, rainbows, halos, comets, and the like.
Why, then, is the wise man great? Because he has a great soul. Accordingly, it is true that that which falls to the lot even of the most despicable person is not a good. Thus, I should never regardinactivity as a good; for even the tree-frog and the flea possess this quality. Nor should I regard rest and freedom from trouble as a good; for what is more at leisure than a worm? Do you ask what it is that produces the wise man? That which produces a god. You must grant that the wise man has in an element of godliness, heavenliness, grandeur. The good does not come to everyone, nor does it allow any random person to possess it.Behold: “What fruits each country bears, or will not bear; Here corn, and there the vine, grow richlier. And elsewhere still the tender tree and grass Unbidden clothe themselves in green. Seest thou How Tmolus ships its saffron perfumes forth, And ivory comes from Ind; soft Sheba sends Its incense, and the unclad Chalybes Their iron.” These products are apportioned to separate countries in order that human beings may be constrained to traffic among themselves, each seeking something from his neighbor in his turn. So the Supreme Good has also its own abode. It does not grow where ivory grows, or iron. Do you ask where the Supreme Good dwells? In the soul. And unless the soul be pure and holy, there is no room in it for God.
—from Seneca, Moral Letters 87 Do not praise the part as if it were separate from the whole. Do not pursue the means without the dignity of the end. Do not elevate the inferior to the status of the superior. In the absence of a virtuous soul, there can be nothing else that is good in my life. Money has never made me a better man, though there were times when I did manage to spend it rightly. Fame has never offered me dignity, though there were times when it followed from doing my duty. Luxury has never granted me happiness, though there were times when my principles also happened to be pleasing. I have little a mantra that helps me to keep it straight: I have known good people who were rich, clever, or charming, but I have yet to meet any people who were good because they were rich, clever, or charming. “Thank God I have been this fortunate!” That is not a blessing, for it can just as easily be a curse. “I only need enough so I don’t have to worry!” Circumstances of any sort will leave you anxious. The solution lies in seeking that good which can never be taken away. “If I’m lucky, one day I won’t have to work at all!” Labor will only appear to be a burden when we are confused about the purpose of living itself. Back in high school, my friends and I would apply the phrase “like a god” to most anything—yes, teenagers come up with the goofiest expressions. It turned out having the hair of a god, or the car of a god, or the record collection of a god didn’t really make much sense, since a god wouldn’t need any of those things. The divine must be self-sufficient, wanting in nothing beyond itself. How could a mere mortal approach such a height? By nurturing what is distinctly his own, what lies within his soul, instead of chasing after superficial diversions, which will always leave him begging for more and more. Do not be fooled by the usual routine, the rules they teach you about in school or promote incessantly at the office: you can’t get there from here. If my nature is indeed to understand and to love, what else could possibly matter? The world is full of trade, of folks seeking to profit from buying and selling every product under the sun, and yet the one thing that remains priceless is always there for the taking, if we just put our minds to it. By all means, put the many fruits of this world to use, but recognize why the good in their use is derived exclusively from the virtues that stand behind them. I would propose a radically different way of judging between the “haves” and the “have nots”. It isn’t enough to leave room for dessert. Make more room for the God who already dwells inside you.
—Reflection written in 2/2014
IMAGE: Master of the Dominican Effigies, The Garden of the Virtues (c. 1350)
“That which can fall to the lot of any man, no matter how base or despised he may be, is not a good. But wealth falls to the lot of the pander and the trainer of gladiators; therefore wealth is not a good.” “Another wrong premise,” they say, “for we notice that goods fall to the lot of the very lowest sort of men, not only in the scholar’s art, but also in the art of healing or in the art of navigating.” These arts, however, make no profession of greatness ofsoul; they do not rise to any heights nor do they frown upon what fortune may bring. It is virtue that uplifts man and places him superior to what mortals hold dear; virtue neither craves overmuch nor fears to excess that which is called good or that which is called bad. Chelidon, one of Cleopatra’s eunuchs, possessed great wealth; and recently Natalis—a man whose tongue was as shameless as it was dirty, a man whose mouth used to perform the vilest offices—was the heir of many, and also made many his heirs. What then? Was it his money that made him unclean, or did he himself besmirch his money? Money tumbles into the hands of certain men as a shilling tumbles down a sewer.Virtue stands above all such things. It is appraised in coin of its own minting; and it deems none of these random windfalls to be good. But medicine and navigation do not forbid themselves and their followers to marvel at such things. One who is not a good man can nevertheless be a physician, or a pilot, or a scholar—yes, just as well as he can be a cook! He to whose lot it falls to possess something which is not of a random sort, cannot be called a random sort of man; a person is of the same sort as that which he possesses. A strong box is worth just what it holds; or rather, it is a mere accessory of that which it holds. Whoever sets any price upon a full purse except the price established by the count of the money deposited therein? This also applies to the owners of great estates: they are only accessories and incidentals to their possessions.
—from Seneca, Moral Letters 87 I appreciate why the Peripatetics wished to describe the good through its circumstances, and how they sought to explain the virtues within their proper setting, but the danger is that we then conflate our happiness with our conveniences, and we confuse the perfection of our own nature with the perfection of other natures. While there is no doubt that pebbles, or trees, or dogs have a particular goodness within them, it would be ridiculous to use this as a benchmark for the excellence of a man; look to the essence of the thing itself, not at its accidental relation to outside things. This is why the neighborhood I live in, and the contents of my bank account, and the list of people who happen to send me Christmas cards will never determine my inner worth. I know full well how a life of poverty, sickness, and loneliness can be an incredible burden, and yet that which is difficult should not be mistaken for that which is impossible. Instead of yearning for a change in my fortune, let me work on an increase of my character, which has the power to transform any obstacle into an opportunity for greater understanding and love. The Peripatetic can’t have it both ways. Don’t tell me that happiness is defined as the activity of a rational soul, and then add that certain amounts of money, health, and friends are also necessary conditions. It reminds me of those shifty bosses, who keep modifying the terms for a promotion, or those fake Christians, who say that you are justified by faith, except when you don’t put enough cash in the collection basket. The Stoics refused, therefore, to speak of wealth, or any aspect of fortune, as a good. There is no direct connection between property and propriety, whatever the experts might say, because a state of affairs that is largely beyond our power does not reflect the merit of the judgements that are entirely within our power. Can the circumstances somehow take on a quality of goodness for us? Yes, but only indirectly, insofar as we choose to make an appropriate use of them, in harmony with our natural calling to a life of the virtues. Therefore, you will find some people who employ their money to make themselves better, while you will find others who merely treat their affluence as an excuse to become worse. This further applies to all of our human skills, so that however gifted a man may be at writing a book, or healing a patient, or sailing across the ocean, his goodness, in the one way that really matters, must proceed from the integrity of his conscience. I once met a fellow who was, by all accounts, one of the most brilliant chefs of our generation, though this did not stop him from simultaneously being one of the biggest scoundrels of our generation. May I still refer to the “good” in a casual sense, as a general expression of distinction and approval? I suspect there is little harm in it, as long as I never lose sight of the absolute measure. Most anyone can attach himself to riches, but it will take a very special sort of person to stand out as a source of the greatest value.
—Reflection written in 2/2014
IMAGE: Jacopo Bassano, Lazarus and the Rich Man (1545)
On the occasion of a common dinner party, where some of the company would present themselves with a small, and others with a large supply of viands, Socrates would bid the servants throw the small supplies into the general stock, or else to help each of the party to a share all around.
Thus the grand victualers were ashamed in the one case not to share in the common stock, and in the other not to throw in their supplies also. Accordingly, in went the grand supplies into the common stock. And now, being no better off than the small contributors, they soon ceased to cater for expensive delicacies.
At a supper party, one member of the company, as Socrates chanced to note, had put aside the plain fare and was devoting himself to certain dainties. A discussion was going on about names and definitions, and the proper applications of terms to things.
Whereupon Socrates, appealing to the company: "Can we explain why we call a man a 'dainty fellow'? What is the particular action to which the term applies?—since everyone adds some dainty to his food when he can get it. But we have not quite hit the definition yet, I think. Are we to be called dainty eaters because we like our bread buttered?"
"No! Hardly!" some member of the company replied.
Socrates: "Well, but now suppose a man confines himself to eating venison or other dainty without any plain food at all, not as a matter of training, but for the pleasure of it: has such a man earned the title?"
"The rest of the world would have a poor chance against him," someone answered.
"Or," interposed another, "what if the dainty dishes he devours are out of all proportion to the rest of his meal—what of him?"
Socrates: "He has established a very fair title at any rate to the appellation, and when the rest of the world pray to heaven for a fine harvest: 'May our corn and oil increase!' he may reasonably ejaculate, 'May my fleshpots multiply!'"
At this last sally, the young man, feeling that the conversation set somewhat in his direction, did not desist indeed from his savory viands, but helped himself generously to a piece of bread.
Socrates was all-observant, and added: "Keep an eye on our friend yonder, you others next him, and see fair play between the sop and the sauce."
Another time, seeing one of the company using but one sop of bread to test several savory dishes, Socrates remarked: "Could there be a more extravagant style of cookery, or more murderous to the dainty dishes themselves, than this wholesale method of taking so many dishes together?—why, bless me, twenty different sorts of seasoning at one swoop!
"First of all he mixes up actually more ingredients than the cook himself prescribes, which is extravagant; and secondly, he has the audacity to commingle what the chef holds incongruous, whereby if the cooks are right in their method he is wrong in his, and consequently the destroyer of their art.
"Now is it not ridiculous first to procure the greatest virtuosi to cook for us, and then without any claim to their skill to take and alter their procedure?
"But there is a worse thing in store for the bold man who habituates himself to eat a dozen dishes at once: when there are but few dishes served, out of pure habit he will feel himself half starved, whilst his neighbor, accustomed to send his sop down by help of a single relish, will feast merrily, be the dishes never so few."
He had a saying that euokheisthai, to "make good cheer," was in Attic parlance a synonym for "eating," and the affix eu (the attributive "good") connoted the eating of such things as would not trouble soul or body, and were not far to seek or hard to find.
So that to "make good cheer" in his vocabulary applied to a modest and well-ordered style of living.
The attempt to develop a sense of humor and to see things in a humorous light is some kind of a trick learned while mastering the art of living. Yet it is possible to practice the art of living even in a concentration camp, although suffering is omnipresent.
To draw an analogy: a man's suffering is similar to the behavior of gas. If a certain quantity of gas is pumped into an empty chamber, it will fill the chamber completely and evenly, no matter how big the chamber.
Thus suffering completely fills the human soul and conscious mind, no matter whether the suffering is great or little. Therefore the "size" of human suffering is absolutely relative.
It also follows that a very trifling thing can cause the greatest of joys.
Take as an example something that happened on our journey from Auschwitz to the camp affiliated with Dachau. We had all been afraid that our transport was heading for the Mauthausen camp.
We became more and more tense as we approached a certain bridge over the Danube, which the train would have to cross to reach Mauthausen, according to the statement of experienced traveling companions.
Those who have never seen anything similar cannot possibly imagine the dance of joy performed in the carriage by the prisoners when they saw that our transport was not crossing the bridge and was instead heading "only" for Dachau.
“That which is good makes men good. For example, that which is good in the art of music makes the musician. But chance events do not make agood man; therefore, chance events are not goods.” The Peripatetics reply to this by saying that the premise is false; that men do not in every case become good by means of that which is good; that in music there is something good, like a flute, a harp, or an organ suited to accompany singing; but that none of these instruments makes the musician. We shall then reply: “You do not understand in what sense we have used the phrase ’that which is good in music.’ For we do not mean that which equips the musician, but that which makes the musician; you, however, are referring to the instruments of the art, and not to the art itself. If, however, anything in the art of music is good, that will in every case make the musician.” And I should like to put this idea still more clearly. We define the good in the art of music in two ways: first, that by which the performance of the musician is assisted, and second, that by which his art is assisted. Now the musical instruments have to do with his performance—such as flutes and organs and harps; but they do not have to do with the musician’s art itself. For he is an artist even without them; he may perhaps be lacking in the ability to practice his art. But the good in man is not in the same way twofold; for the good of man and the good of life are the same.
—from Seneca, Moral Letters 87 As much as it now offends people, I still catch myself repeating that old saying, “There’s more than one way to skin a cat.” It helps me to remember why the sophists are mistaken in reducing everything to a Catch-22, where tunnel vision makes it impossible to resolve any dilemma. I do not see the Trolley Problem and the Liar’s Paradox as anything more than amusing parlor tricks, because they have little bearing on the reality of daily living. At the other end of the spectrum, we are so terribly lazy when throwing around a word like “good”—one would expect that expert thinkers could do a much better job of defining their terms before engaging in mental gymnastics. Indeed, one of the reasons I was so drawn to Stoicism was the school’s total clarity on the true origin of any benefit. I understand how an expression can be used either narrowly or broadly, depending upon the context, but the Stoics did not mess around when it came to the nature of the human good. While the old Thomist in me still distinguishes between the univocal and the equivocal senses of a word, I insist that the latter must always be dependent upon the former. Should I describe pleasure, money, and fame as goods? Yes, relatively, if I am speaking of the way they might be employed for the sake of a worthy end. No, if I am trying to isolate the absolute source, which alone rests in the virtue of the act itself. Whatever the circumstances, no man is capable of any good deed, if he does not first possess the proper disposition of character. Just as merely picking up a fine instrument cannot bestow musical skill, so buying some fancy book will never produce an informed conscience. Perhaps it could help, or perhaps it could hurt, but that will all come down to an internal judgment, an estimation of meaning and value. Sometimes the tool serves as an inspiration, and sometimes the tool is an excuse to behave like a spoiled brat. In high school, I was not magically transformed into a Chris Squire or a Geddy Lee at the moment I picked up a Rickenbacker bass. In college, I did not acquire a noble soul once a copy of the Summa suddenly appeared on my bookshelf. Indeed, there were times when a hindrance ended up being far more useful to me than a convenience—and it was only my commitment that made the difference. The Peripatetics were inclined to confuse an occasion for the good with the essence of the good, which, in turn, tempted them to identify our merits with indifferent conditions, which are ultimately beyond our power. I would have respectfully reminded them of the contrast between a material cause and an efficient cause. If that sounds too bookish for you, think of the homeless fellow in the subway, who plays brilliant percussion on a pair of plastic buckets, as opposed to the rich kid at the prep school, who nagged his parents for a full DW Collector’s Series kit, and yet he will never master a basic backbeat.
[7] And now, O sons, listen to me, and do not depart from the words of my mouth. [8] Keep your way far from her, and do not go near the door of her house; [9] lest you give your honor to others and your years to the merciless; [10] lest strangers take their fill of your strength, and your labors go to the house of an alien; [11] and at the end of your life you groan, when your flesh and body are consumed, [12] and you say, "How I hated discipline, and my heart despised reproof! [13] I did not listen to the voice of my teachers or incline my ear to my instructors. [14] I was at the point of utter ruin in the assembled congregation."
Nostalgia is a difficult thing, because there can be both good and bad in it. I walk a fine line whenever I think back to the old days, because sometimes it refreshes the spirit, and yet sometimes it poisons the soul.
I do, however, have no qualms about revisiting one of the most sacred rituals of my youth—the blessed mix tape.
My son rolls his eyes when I mention this, saying, "Yes, old man, we now call them playlists."
No, young man, that is hardly the same thing. The mix tape was an act of love, which was far more than the sum of some tunes you lazily strung together. There was hard work involved. You had to dust off the vinyl, set the stylus just right, and constantly check the levels.
You chose your songs wisely, since it wasn't just a matter of clicking and dragging with your mouse. You looked deep inside, and you asked yourself how your picks reflected everything about who you were.
The mix tape was a total expression of all you held dear. To give someone a mix tape had almost the same weight as a marriage proposal. There was a profound art to it.
I made at least fifty of them for the lost love of my life in college, though I now suspect they were only played when I happened to be around.
I later fell for an artsy and bohemian girl, and I spent three whole days compiling her first tape.
I'm fairly sure all of those cassettes are now in some landfill, but the memory of creating them is far more vivid to me than any image of their faces.
During my Wilderness Years, I had no friends, so I compensated by making mix tapes for myself, including a set I planned to listen to on a final trip to my homeland of Austria, where I somehow intended to die on a mountaintop. While I never made that trip, those four tapes remain some of my most prized possessions.
One day, I finally met a nice girl, and I had one last opportunity to do a final mix tape. I knew it would be the last one, for the CD had by now replaced the cassette as the way we listened to music; there was absolutely no romance in burning a CD. The young lady, however, still strolled around with a Walkman, and that was my way to her heart.
Men are such pathetic creatures, right? Especially the sentimental ones.
I stayed up all night putting this one together. The trick was always to hand it over like it was no big deal, even as I was completely twitterpated.
I eventually married that woman, and who I am now would be impossible without her. The tape sits on our dresser, next to an ancient boom box I keep only for the purpose of playing that one darn tape.
To this day, the ideas and values expressed in my musical choices are a source of pride. If you want to figure out who I really am, this collection will give you a good clue.
• • • • •
Crowded House, "Weather with You", from Woodface (1991)
Julius Caesar, and the Roman Empire,
Couldn't conquer the blue sky.
Blur, "London Loves", from Parklife (1994)
And words are cheap when the mind is elastic.
Capercaillie, "Claire in Heaven", from To the Moon (1995)
Up here I see a new tomorrow.
Level 42, "Play Me", from Forever Now (1994)
All the women of my dreams, Were the kind who lived beyond my means.
Kevin Gilbert, "Goodness Gracious", from Thud (1995)
Goodness Gracious not many people care, Concern is getting scarcer, true compassion really rare.
Bela Fleck and the Flecktones, "Sunset Road", from Bela Fleck and the Flecktones (1990)
October Project, "Something More than This", from Falling Farther In (1995)
Whatever you fear, Whatever you hide, Whatever you carry deep inside, There's something more than this.
Donald Fagen, "Countermoon", from Kamakiriad (1993)
At every pay phone There's somebody cryin'.
Thomas Dolby, "Close but No Cigar", from Astronauts & Heretics (1992)
I remember, I remember, I remember The promise in your eyes, As black as the night I drove you to the airport.
Echolyn, "One for the Show", from As the World (1995)
As the world shakes it on down, Some learn to dance and others just drown.
Marillion, "Dry Land", from Holidays in Eden (1991)
In all the tine that I've known you,
You've been so edgy and nervous.
Swing Out Sister, "Don't Let Yourself Down", from The Living Return (1994)
Trust in love and you'll have no regrets.
King's X, "The Train", from Ear Candy (1996)
Don't try to take the ride, sit back and let it rain.
Paul Weller, "Round and Round", from Paul Weller (1992)
Movin' up to collect our prizes, Sinkin' fast into life's surprises.
Clannad, "From Your Heart", from Lore (1996)
Wise beyond your years, Made my life more worthy now.
Spock's Beard, "Waste Away", from Beware of Darkness (1996)
Some people are like gravy Spilled on God's Sunday shirt.
Jamiroquai, "Virtual Insanity", from Traveling Without Moving (1996)
And it's a wonder men can eat at all, When things are big that should be small.
Phish, "Down with Disease", from Hoist (1994)
Waiting for the time when I can finally say: This has all been wonderful, but now I'm on my way.
Peter Gabriel, "Steam", from Us (1992)
You know your culture from your trash, You know your plastic from your cash.
Iona, "Irish Day", from Journey Into the Morn (1996)
It is here that time has granted, That the light should still burn on.
And just for a lark, here's a YouTube mix of the entire bloody thing:
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