The Death of Marcus Aurelius
Saturday, May 16, 2026
Friday, May 15, 2026
Stockdale on Stoicism 56
Given their charge, the breaking of human will, all political prisons are similar. That is to say, neither what goes on there, nor how their prey grapple with it, appreciably change, century in and century out: Cervantes', Dostoevsky’s, and my accounts are all the same.
At the heart of the organization is a master extortionist or commissar, like Gletkin of Darkness At Noon and the Cat of In Love and War. The same methods are used now as were used in the Middle Ages.
They don’t use drugs; they want to impose guilt; they want authenticity with no easy outs or plausible denials.
They don’t use brainwashing; there is no such thing. They do use pain, administered by a few selected torture guards. They also use isolation.
Such prisons use a tripwire system of multitudinous regulations, some of which many inmates inadvertently break because of their number and ambiguity, and other regulations which almost all inmates eventually intentionally break because their requirements defy human nature. In particular, there was a regulation for us never to communicate in any way with another American prisoner.
The idea in political prisons is to get prisoners to break regulations. Since any violation is considered, prima facie, moral turpitude or "evidence of ingratitude," it is used as justification to recycle the inmate through the torture meat grinder. From that, the commissars obtain, on a production line basis: confessions, apologies, and atonements.
Seasoned veterans of these regimes realize that pain and isolation, to say nothing of other deprivations and miseries, are mere accelerators to the major pincers of this will-breaking machine: imposed fear and guilt.
"Destabilize with fear, polarize with guilt," say the graffiti on the cave walls of the alchemists of the Middle Ages who worked on psychic transformation under pressure. In fact, the total regime comes to seem to its sufferers like an alchemist’s hermetically sealed, pressurized, and heated retort, in which they are perpetually stalked, hounded down, and harpooned with barbs of fear and guilt.
—from James B. Stockdale, Epictetus' Enchiridion: Conflict and Character
IMAGE: Jacek Malczewski, The Prisoners (1883)
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Cicero, Stoic Paradoxes 4.3
You most frantic of all madmen, will you never look around you? Will you never consider what you say, or what you do? Do you not know that exile is the penalty of guilt: but that the journey I set out upon was undertaken by me in consequence of the most illustrious exploits performed by me?
All the criminals, all the profligates, of whom you avow yourself the leader, and on whom our laws pronounce the sentence of banishment, are exiles, even though they have not changed their locality.
At the time when all our laws doom you to banishment, will you not be an exile? Is not the man an enemy who carries about him offensive weapons? A cutthroat belonging to you was taken near the senate house. Who has murdered a man? You have murdered many. Who is an incendiary? You; for with your own hand you set fire to the temple of the nymphs. Who violated the temples? You pitched your camp in the forum.
But what do I talk of well-known laws, all which doom you to exile; for your most intimate friend carried through a bill with reference to you, by which you were condemned to be banished, if it was found that you had presented yourself at the mysteries of the goddess Bona; and you are even accustomed to boast that you did so.
As therefore you have by so many laws been doomed to banishment, how is it that you do not shrink from the designation of exile? You say you are still at Rome, and that you were present at the mysteries too: but a man will not be free of the place where he may be, if he cannot be there with the sanction of the laws.
All the criminals, all the profligates, of whom you avow yourself the leader, and on whom our laws pronounce the sentence of banishment, are exiles, even though they have not changed their locality.
At the time when all our laws doom you to banishment, will you not be an exile? Is not the man an enemy who carries about him offensive weapons? A cutthroat belonging to you was taken near the senate house. Who has murdered a man? You have murdered many. Who is an incendiary? You; for with your own hand you set fire to the temple of the nymphs. Who violated the temples? You pitched your camp in the forum.
But what do I talk of well-known laws, all which doom you to exile; for your most intimate friend carried through a bill with reference to you, by which you were condemned to be banished, if it was found that you had presented yourself at the mysteries of the goddess Bona; and you are even accustomed to boast that you did so.
As therefore you have by so many laws been doomed to banishment, how is it that you do not shrink from the designation of exile? You say you are still at Rome, and that you were present at the mysteries too: but a man will not be free of the place where he may be, if he cannot be there with the sanction of the laws.
—from Cicero, Stoic Paradoxes 4
I regularly find myself tempted to deeply distrust all authority and to bitterly resent being an outcast, until I remind myself why those who coerce are themselves lawless, whether they come from the right or from the left, and that those who exclude others are themselves exiles, regardless of their deference to this or that tribe. Whatever is lawful proceeds from Nature, and whoever denies Nature has already exiled himself from the human fellowship.
Without the rule of reason, in which all of us must freely share, those vainglorious schemes will merely descend into madness. Be on your guard against those who inflame the passions, and yet they are unable to offer a sound argument in defense of their manifestos.
When was the last time you heard a politician present a syllogism, or a preacher define his terms? They confidently speak of what is “good”, or cry out for “justice”, or stand with the “community”, while never establishing their first principles. Do not be surprised, therefore, when they ask you to lie, to slander, and to commit violence in the name of their causes.
I have felt wronged by the man who claims to be in charge, all the while forgetting how he can do me no real harm, and the greatest evil is the one he inflicts upon himself. His power over me will be as great or as small as I allow it to be.
I have felt banished from a place I consider my home, all the while forgetting how my true shelter is in my state of mind, not in any one place. A house is only as good or as bad as the character of the man who lives within its walls.
The law of what is true, good, and beautiful is bigger than any one person, even as it includes the dignity of every single person, without exception. Though it is my privilege to discover what is lawful, it is arrogance to believe that I can create it, for I am not a measure, but a thing measured, not the Creator, but a creature. It is no accident that the wicked man likes to hide behind an unintelligible relativism, which clouds and distorts an objective sense of meaning and purpose.
I can’t blame Cicero for getting a little hot under the collar about Clodius, and yet without the benefit of an informed conscience, he would become just as brutal as his opponent. Cicero shows a remarkable restraint in not simply murdering the rascal, a self-control perhaps born of a pity for such ignorance. The Stoic, and any man of goodwill, knows why succumbing to the vices is like suffering from a moral disease.
I regularly find myself tempted to deeply distrust all authority and to bitterly resent being an outcast, until I remind myself why those who coerce are themselves lawless, whether they come from the right or from the left, and that those who exclude others are themselves exiles, regardless of their deference to this or that tribe. Whatever is lawful proceeds from Nature, and whoever denies Nature has already exiled himself from the human fellowship.
Without the rule of reason, in which all of us must freely share, those vainglorious schemes will merely descend into madness. Be on your guard against those who inflame the passions, and yet they are unable to offer a sound argument in defense of their manifestos.
When was the last time you heard a politician present a syllogism, or a preacher define his terms? They confidently speak of what is “good”, or cry out for “justice”, or stand with the “community”, while never establishing their first principles. Do not be surprised, therefore, when they ask you to lie, to slander, and to commit violence in the name of their causes.
I have felt wronged by the man who claims to be in charge, all the while forgetting how he can do me no real harm, and the greatest evil is the one he inflicts upon himself. His power over me will be as great or as small as I allow it to be.
I have felt banished from a place I consider my home, all the while forgetting how my true shelter is in my state of mind, not in any one place. A house is only as good or as bad as the character of the man who lives within its walls.
The law of what is true, good, and beautiful is bigger than any one person, even as it includes the dignity of every single person, without exception. Though it is my privilege to discover what is lawful, it is arrogance to believe that I can create it, for I am not a measure, but a thing measured, not the Creator, but a creature. It is no accident that the wicked man likes to hide behind an unintelligible relativism, which clouds and distorts an objective sense of meaning and purpose.
I can’t blame Cicero for getting a little hot under the collar about Clodius, and yet without the benefit of an informed conscience, he would become just as brutal as his opponent. Cicero shows a remarkable restraint in not simply murdering the rascal, a self-control perhaps born of a pity for such ignorance. The Stoic, and any man of goodwill, knows why succumbing to the vices is like suffering from a moral disease.
—Reflection written in 5/1999
IMAGE: Frederick Dielman, Law (1896)
Thursday, May 14, 2026
Henry David Thoreau 15
Disobedience is the true foundation of liberty. The obedient must be slaves.
—from Henry David Thoreau, Journals (1847)
Ralph Waldo Emerson 20
A man contains all that is needful to his government within himself. He is made a law unto himself. All real good or evil that can befall him must be from himself. He only can do himself any good or any harm. Nothing can be given to him or can taken from him but always there is a compensation.
There is a correspondence between the human soul and everything that exists in the world; more properly, everything that is known to man. Instead of studying things without the principles of them, all may be penetrated unto with him. Every act puts the agent in a new position.
The purpose of life seems to be to acquaint a man with himself. He is not to live the future as described to him but to live the real future to the real present. The highest revelation is that God is in every man.
—from Ralph Waldo Emerson, Journals (8 September, 1833)
IMAGE: Tintoretto, Christ Washing the Disciples' Feet (1549)
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Wednesday, May 13, 2026
Dhammapada 418
Him I call indeed a Brahmana who has left what gives pleasure and what gives pain, who is cool, and free from all germs of renewed life, the hero who has conquered all the worlds.
Cicero, Stoic Paradoxes 4.2
But see how much I despised the shafts of your villainy. That you aimed your villainous wrongs at me, I was always aware; but that they reached me I never thought. It is true, you might think that somewhat belonging to me was tumbling down or consuming, when you were demolishing my walls, and applying your detestable torches to the roofs of my houses.
But neither I nor any man can call that our own which can be taken away, plundered, or lost. Could you have robbed me of my godlike constancy of mind, of my application, of my vigilance, and of those measures through which, to your confusion, the republic now exists; could you have abolished the eternal memory of this lasting service; far more, had you robbed me of that soul from which these designs emanated; then, indeed, I should have confessed that I had received an injury.
But as you neither did nor could do this, your persecution rendered my return glorious, but not my departure miserable. I, therefore, was always a citizen of Rome, but especially at the time when the senate charged foreign nations with my preservation as the best of her citizens.
As to you, you are at this time no citizen, unless the same person can be at once a citizen and an enemy. Can you distinguish a citizen from an enemy by the accidents of nature and place, and not by its affections and actions?
You have perpetrated a massacre in the forum, and occupied the temples with bands of armed ruffians; you have set on fire the temples of the gods and the houses of private citizens.
If you are a citizen, in what sense was Spartacus an enemy? Can you be a citizen, through whom, for a time, the state had no existence? And do you apply to me your own designation, when all mankind thought that on my departure Rome herself was gone into exile?
But neither I nor any man can call that our own which can be taken away, plundered, or lost. Could you have robbed me of my godlike constancy of mind, of my application, of my vigilance, and of those measures through which, to your confusion, the republic now exists; could you have abolished the eternal memory of this lasting service; far more, had you robbed me of that soul from which these designs emanated; then, indeed, I should have confessed that I had received an injury.
But as you neither did nor could do this, your persecution rendered my return glorious, but not my departure miserable. I, therefore, was always a citizen of Rome, but especially at the time when the senate charged foreign nations with my preservation as the best of her citizens.
As to you, you are at this time no citizen, unless the same person can be at once a citizen and an enemy. Can you distinguish a citizen from an enemy by the accidents of nature and place, and not by its affections and actions?
You have perpetrated a massacre in the forum, and occupied the temples with bands of armed ruffians; you have set on fire the temples of the gods and the houses of private citizens.
If you are a citizen, in what sense was Spartacus an enemy? Can you be a citizen, through whom, for a time, the state had no existence? And do you apply to me your own designation, when all mankind thought that on my departure Rome herself was gone into exile?
—from Cicero, Stoic Paradoxes 4
Once a man binds himself to wickedness, he wishes to live his life as a contradiction, and what could be more insane than to repudiate his very nature? He demands to receive, though he will not bow to give. He expects to be adored, yet he never offers love. He considers himself an end, while he treats others as means. His entire outlook is a paradox: rules for thee, but not for me.
He defines his worth by everything except his own character, and so he assumes that his own benefit must come at someone else’s expense. This is why he is so full of hatred, because his desire to acquire and to consume knows no bounds. Success is viewed as a series of conflicts, in which cooperation will only be the temporary mask for a cunning exploitation.
A fellow like Clodius believes himself the victor when he has destroyed an enemy’s property, rank, and privileges, but he does not understand how a genuine liberty is in the dignity of the spirit, not from the circumstances of the flesh. All the scoundrel has managed is to diminish his own excellence, even as he unwittingly offers others an opportunity to stand firmer in their convictions.
I do not think that Cicero expects this to come easily, but what a triumph it is to not become like your oppressor! Yes, while it is frustrating to lose one’s money, and painful to see one’s house burned to the ground, and downright agonizing to be exiled from one’s country, the bully can never seize another man’s integrity, the only unassailable fortress he can ever hold. Cicero did not have to be a card-carrying Stoic to understand this timeless truth.
One reason I try to stay clear of any contemporary political bickering is that such an animosity is itself a blatant betrayal of precisely what it means to be a citizen. Where there is no love of neighbor, there can be no loyalty to the state, and hating an enemy, whatever the color of his flag, is no excuse for abandoning my humanity. Do not let the demagogues trick you into believing that the good of the fashionable many requires the destruction of the inconvenient few.
Distinguish between the those who define their honor through power and those who define their honor through service. I think it no exaggeration to say that the rise or fall of whole civilizations depends upon the health of our personal virtues.
Once a man binds himself to wickedness, he wishes to live his life as a contradiction, and what could be more insane than to repudiate his very nature? He demands to receive, though he will not bow to give. He expects to be adored, yet he never offers love. He considers himself an end, while he treats others as means. His entire outlook is a paradox: rules for thee, but not for me.
He defines his worth by everything except his own character, and so he assumes that his own benefit must come at someone else’s expense. This is why he is so full of hatred, because his desire to acquire and to consume knows no bounds. Success is viewed as a series of conflicts, in which cooperation will only be the temporary mask for a cunning exploitation.
A fellow like Clodius believes himself the victor when he has destroyed an enemy’s property, rank, and privileges, but he does not understand how a genuine liberty is in the dignity of the spirit, not from the circumstances of the flesh. All the scoundrel has managed is to diminish his own excellence, even as he unwittingly offers others an opportunity to stand firmer in their convictions.
I do not think that Cicero expects this to come easily, but what a triumph it is to not become like your oppressor! Yes, while it is frustrating to lose one’s money, and painful to see one’s house burned to the ground, and downright agonizing to be exiled from one’s country, the bully can never seize another man’s integrity, the only unassailable fortress he can ever hold. Cicero did not have to be a card-carrying Stoic to understand this timeless truth.
One reason I try to stay clear of any contemporary political bickering is that such an animosity is itself a blatant betrayal of precisely what it means to be a citizen. Where there is no love of neighbor, there can be no loyalty to the state, and hating an enemy, whatever the color of his flag, is no excuse for abandoning my humanity. Do not let the demagogues trick you into believing that the good of the fashionable many requires the destruction of the inconvenient few.
Distinguish between the those who define their honor through power and those who define their honor through service. I think it no exaggeration to say that the rise or fall of whole civilizations depends upon the health of our personal virtues.
—Reflection written in 5/1999
IMAGE: Thomas Cole, The Course of Empire: Destruction (1836)
Tuesday, May 12, 2026
Monday, May 11, 2026
Cicero, Stoic Paradoxes 4.1
Paradox 4: That Every Fool Is a Madman
[Translator's note: This paradox takes for its illustration the life of Publius Clodius, a Roman soldier of noble birth, but infamous for the corruption of his morals. He was ultimately slain by the retinue of Milo, in an encouter which took place between the two as Milo was journeying toward Lanuvium, his native place, and Clodius was on his way to Rome.]
I will now convict you, by infallible considerations, not as a fool, as I have often done, nor as a villain, as I always do, but as insane and mad.
Could the mind of the wise man, fortified as with walls by depth of counsel, by patient endurance of human ills, by contempt of fortune; in short, by all the virtues—a mind that could not be expelled out of this community—shall such a mind be overpowered and taken by storm?
For what do we call a community? Surely, not every assembly of thieves and ruffians? Is it then the entire rabble of outlaws and robbers assembled in one place? No; you will doubtless reply. Then this was no community when its laws had no force; when its courts of justice were prostrated; when the custom of the country had fallen into contempt; when, the magistrates having been driven away by the sword, there was not even the name of a senate in the state.
Could that gang of ruffians, that assembly of villains which you head in the forum, could those remains of Catiline’s frantic conspiracy, diverted to your mad and guilty schemes, be termed a community?
[Translator's note: This paradox takes for its illustration the life of Publius Clodius, a Roman soldier of noble birth, but infamous for the corruption of his morals. He was ultimately slain by the retinue of Milo, in an encouter which took place between the two as Milo was journeying toward Lanuvium, his native place, and Clodius was on his way to Rome.]
I will now convict you, by infallible considerations, not as a fool, as I have often done, nor as a villain, as I always do, but as insane and mad.
Could the mind of the wise man, fortified as with walls by depth of counsel, by patient endurance of human ills, by contempt of fortune; in short, by all the virtues—a mind that could not be expelled out of this community—shall such a mind be overpowered and taken by storm?
For what do we call a community? Surely, not every assembly of thieves and ruffians? Is it then the entire rabble of outlaws and robbers assembled in one place? No; you will doubtless reply. Then this was no community when its laws had no force; when its courts of justice were prostrated; when the custom of the country had fallen into contempt; when, the magistrates having been driven away by the sword, there was not even the name of a senate in the state.
Could that gang of ruffians, that assembly of villains which you head in the forum, could those remains of Catiline’s frantic conspiracy, diverted to your mad and guilty schemes, be termed a community?
I could not therefore be expelled from a community, because no such then existed. I was summoned back to a community when there was a consul in the state, which at the former time there was not; when there was a senate, which then had ceased to exist; when the voice of the people was free; and when laws and equity, those bonds of a community, had been restored.
—from Cicero, Stoic Paradoxes 4
Once again, reading Cicero has me going down the rabbit hole of Roman history. The elaborate schemes, the daring coups, and the brutal reprisals leave my head reeling, reminding me why a study of the past, like any art or science, can only be built upon the foundation of philosophy. Without a standard of true and false, and of right and wrong, there would be no way to distinguish up from down.
I work with many historians, and I even call some of them my friends, but so many of them refuse to look beyond the measures of of wealth, power, and fame. Even when condemning acts as “monstrous” or “deplorable”, they are still buying into the madness of the vices, a view of the world driven solely by greed, lust, and vanity. Such an insanity goes deeper than any colloquial or clinical connotations, because it abandons the rule of reason itself, and can therefore no longer distinguish between good and evil.
Where there is no understanding, there can be no goodwill, and where there is no goodwill, there can be no community. The life of Publius Clodius is a tragic example of what will happen when conscience gives way to concupiscence, which can sadly emerge in any time or place. Virtue springs from wisdom, which is sanity. Vice springs from ignorance, which is insanity. Everything hinges upon the order or the disorder within the mind.
I do not doubt that Cicero had his prejudices, as we all do, but I will not assume malice on his part when he rebukes his opponents. He looks beyond his frustrations to the deeper values of human nature, in which a good man cannot be exiled from society, since a society is formed by sound judgment and free consent. Solidarity is impossible in the presence of lunacy.
While the language may sound harsh, how else are we to describe all the misdeeds that go so contrary to reason? And, in the face of such folly, what could be more sane than the man who knows why his self-awareness is the key to his self-mastery? In the end, the tyrant, whether big or small, has renounced his intellect, so he is the worst sort of madman.
Once again, reading Cicero has me going down the rabbit hole of Roman history. The elaborate schemes, the daring coups, and the brutal reprisals leave my head reeling, reminding me why a study of the past, like any art or science, can only be built upon the foundation of philosophy. Without a standard of true and false, and of right and wrong, there would be no way to distinguish up from down.
I work with many historians, and I even call some of them my friends, but so many of them refuse to look beyond the measures of of wealth, power, and fame. Even when condemning acts as “monstrous” or “deplorable”, they are still buying into the madness of the vices, a view of the world driven solely by greed, lust, and vanity. Such an insanity goes deeper than any colloquial or clinical connotations, because it abandons the rule of reason itself, and can therefore no longer distinguish between good and evil.
Where there is no understanding, there can be no goodwill, and where there is no goodwill, there can be no community. The life of Publius Clodius is a tragic example of what will happen when conscience gives way to concupiscence, which can sadly emerge in any time or place. Virtue springs from wisdom, which is sanity. Vice springs from ignorance, which is insanity. Everything hinges upon the order or the disorder within the mind.
I do not doubt that Cicero had his prejudices, as we all do, but I will not assume malice on his part when he rebukes his opponents. He looks beyond his frustrations to the deeper values of human nature, in which a good man cannot be exiled from society, since a society is formed by sound judgment and free consent. Solidarity is impossible in the presence of lunacy.
While the language may sound harsh, how else are we to describe all the misdeeds that go so contrary to reason? And, in the face of such folly, what could be more sane than the man who knows why his self-awareness is the key to his self-mastery? In the end, the tyrant, whether big or small, has renounced his intellect, so he is the worst sort of madman.
—Reflection written in 5/1999
IMAGE: Pasko Vucetic and Viktor Kovacic, Hatred and Madness (c. 1898)
Sunday, May 10, 2026
Saturday, May 9, 2026
Friday, May 8, 2026
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Cicero, Stoic Paradoxes 3.5
But in life we are not to consider what should be the punishment of each offense, but what is the rule of right to each individual. We are to consider everything that is not becoming as wicked, and everything which is unlawful as heinous.
What! Even in the most trifling matters? To be sure; for if we are unable to regulate the course of events, yet we may place a bound to our passions. If a player dances ever so little out of time, if a verse is pronounced by him longer or shorter by a single syllable than it ought to be, he is hooted and hissed off the stage.
And shall you, who ought to be better regulated than any gesture, and more regular than any verse shall you be found faulty even in a syllable of conduct? I overlook the trifling faults of a poet; but shall I approve my fellow-citizen’s life while he is counting his misdeeds with his fingers?
If some of these are trifling, how can it be regarded as more venial when whatever wrong is committed, is committed to the violation of reason and order? Now, if reason and order are violated, nothing can be added by which the offense can seem to be aggravated.
What! Even in the most trifling matters? To be sure; for if we are unable to regulate the course of events, yet we may place a bound to our passions. If a player dances ever so little out of time, if a verse is pronounced by him longer or shorter by a single syllable than it ought to be, he is hooted and hissed off the stage.
And shall you, who ought to be better regulated than any gesture, and more regular than any verse shall you be found faulty even in a syllable of conduct? I overlook the trifling faults of a poet; but shall I approve my fellow-citizen’s life while he is counting his misdeeds with his fingers?
If some of these are trifling, how can it be regarded as more venial when whatever wrong is committed, is committed to the violation of reason and order? Now, if reason and order are violated, nothing can be added by which the offense can seem to be aggravated.
—from Cicero, Stoic Paradoxes 3
I run the risk of only treating some of my vices seriously, worried about the ones that might trigger a harsh reprisal, and willing to ignore the ones where I can weasel my way out. I check the numbers twice on my taxes, because I don’t want to get a hefty fine, but I breeze my way through neglecting a friend, because he’s unlikely to see behind my cheap excuses.
Sometimes the consequences are greater, and sometimes they are lesser, but when it comes to the state of my conscience, each instance of wickedness is a corruption of the whole. Where Prudence, fortitude, temperance, and justice are broken, the harmony within the nature of the person is gravely disturbed.
Do the little things count? Just as much as the big things, in the sense that a breakdown at one level is a breakdown at every level, much like a flaw in the tiniest component will upset the workings of the entire machine. I know this to be true when my snarky comments restrict my peace of mind just as much as a full-blown temper tantrum, or that covetous gaze is already a surrender of my self-control.
This does not have to become what Catholics identify as scrupulosity, a distorted anxiety about sinning, if I can remember how my failings can always be opportunities for further improvement, and why they will cease to do me harm once I choose to be accountable for myself. Though it is fitting to seek the perfection of our nature, as much as it is within our power, learning from our mistakes is a necessary part of that process. Be firm with yourself, while also forgiving with yourself.
We will be disappointed with the musician who can’t play in tune, or the actor who fumbles his lines, so why should we not expect at least a competence of character in our daily living? We have something backwards when the performer is booed off a stage for the slightest blunder, and yet we look the other way when the simplest of decencies are abandoned.
What makes all the vices equally severe is that each and every one of them prevents our capacity to understand and to love. Whenever we go contrary to the rule of reason, we also make it impossible to exercise any goodwill. This is why the Stoics further made the radical claim that our vices are as crippling to us as a form of madness.
I run the risk of only treating some of my vices seriously, worried about the ones that might trigger a harsh reprisal, and willing to ignore the ones where I can weasel my way out. I check the numbers twice on my taxes, because I don’t want to get a hefty fine, but I breeze my way through neglecting a friend, because he’s unlikely to see behind my cheap excuses.
Sometimes the consequences are greater, and sometimes they are lesser, but when it comes to the state of my conscience, each instance of wickedness is a corruption of the whole. Where Prudence, fortitude, temperance, and justice are broken, the harmony within the nature of the person is gravely disturbed.
Do the little things count? Just as much as the big things, in the sense that a breakdown at one level is a breakdown at every level, much like a flaw in the tiniest component will upset the workings of the entire machine. I know this to be true when my snarky comments restrict my peace of mind just as much as a full-blown temper tantrum, or that covetous gaze is already a surrender of my self-control.
This does not have to become what Catholics identify as scrupulosity, a distorted anxiety about sinning, if I can remember how my failings can always be opportunities for further improvement, and why they will cease to do me harm once I choose to be accountable for myself. Though it is fitting to seek the perfection of our nature, as much as it is within our power, learning from our mistakes is a necessary part of that process. Be firm with yourself, while also forgiving with yourself.
We will be disappointed with the musician who can’t play in tune, or the actor who fumbles his lines, so why should we not expect at least a competence of character in our daily living? We have something backwards when the performer is booed off a stage for the slightest blunder, and yet we look the other way when the simplest of decencies are abandoned.
What makes all the vices equally severe is that each and every one of them prevents our capacity to understand and to love. Whenever we go contrary to the rule of reason, we also make it impossible to exercise any goodwill. This is why the Stoics further made the radical claim that our vices are as crippling to us as a form of madness.
—Reflection written in 5/1999
Thursday, May 7, 2026
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Wednesday, May 6, 2026
The Basel Dance of Death 17
Matthäus Merian, The Basel Dance of Death: The Physician (1616)
"Sir Doctor, observe the anatomy
on me, whether it is well made.
Because you have also dispatched many,
who all do now resemble me."
on me, whether it is well made.
Because you have also dispatched many,
who all do now resemble me."
"I have with my inspecting the water
helped both men and women.
Who will inspect my water now?
I must now go away with Death."
helped both men and women.
Who will inspect my water now?
I must now go away with Death."
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