IMAGE: Henry Ossawa Tanner, The Thankful Poor (1894)
The Death of Marcus Aurelius
Wednesday, July 8, 2026
Maxims of Goethe 89
Xenophon, Memorabilia of Socrates 46
Socrates: "You have not the athletic appearance of a youth in training, Epigenes."
And he: "That may well be, seeing I am an amateur and not in training."
Socrates: "As little of an amateur, I take it, as anyone who ever entered the lists of Olympia, unless you are prepared to make light of that contest for life and death against the public foe, which the Athenians will institute when the day comes.
"And yet they are not a few who, owing to a bad habit of body, either perish outright in the perils of war, or are ignobly saved. Many are they who for the selfsame cause are taken prisoners, and being taken must, if it so betide, endure the pains of slavery for the rest of their days; or, after falling into dolorous straits, when they have paid to the uttermost farthing of all, or maybe more than the worth of all that they possess, must drag on a miserable existence in want of the barest necessaries until death releases them.
"Many also are they who gain an evil repute through infirmity of body, being thought to play the coward. Can it be that you despise these penalties affixed to an evil habit? Do you think you could lightly endure them? Far lighter, I imagine, nay, pleasant even by comparison, are the toils which he will undergo who duly cultivates a healthy bodily condition.
"Or do you maintain that the evil habit is healthier, and in general more useful than the good? Do you pour contempt upon those blessings which flow from the healthy state?
"And yet the very opposite of that which befalls the ill attends the sound condition. Does not the very soundness imply at once health and strength? Many a man with no other talisman than this has passed safely through the ordeal of war; stepping, not without dignity, through all its horrors unscathed.
"Many with no other support than this have come to the rescue of friends, or stood forth as benefactors of their fatherland; whereby they were thought worthy of gratitude, and obtained a great renown and received as a recompense the highest honors of the state; to whom is also reserved a happier and brighter passage through what is left to them of life, and at their death they leave to their children the legacy of a fairer starting-point in the race of life.
"Because our city does not practice military training in public, that is no reason for neglecting it in private, but rather a reason for making it a foremost care. For be you assured that there is no contest of any sort, nor any transaction, in which you will be the worse off for being well prepared in body; and in fact there is nothing which men do for which the body is not a help.
"In every demand, therefore, which can be laid upon the body it is much better that it should be in the best condition; since, even where you might imagine the claims upon the body to be slightest—in the act of reasoning—who does not know the terrible stumbles which are made through being out of health?
"It suffices to say that forgetfulness, and despondency, and moroseness, and madness take occasion often of ill-health to visit the intellectual faculties so severely as to expel all knowledge from the brain.
"But he who is in good bodily plight has large security. He runs no risk of incurring any such catastrophe through ill-health at any rate; he has the expectation rather that a good habit must procure consequences the opposite to those of an evil habit; and surely to this end there is nothing a man in his senses would not undergo. . . .
"It is a base thing for a man to wax old in careless self-neglect before he has lifted up his eyes and seen what manner of man he was made to be, in the full perfection of bodily strength and beauty. But these glories are withheld from him who is guilty of self-neglect, for they are not wont to blaze forth unbidden."
—from Xenophon, Memorabilia 3.12
Tuesday, July 7, 2026
The Traveller
Only one fellow, Geoff Downes, is now left from the original quartet, but the sound and the spirit are still mighty strong. What a pleasant and uplifting surprise! And the cover is by Roger Dean!
Asia, "The Traveller (Into the Light)", from Indigo (2026)
The album release date is November 6.
Go ahead, you know you want to return to a simpler time, when you could sing along to Journey, Toto, or Foreigner, without a care in the world.
Dreams turn from diamonds to dust
Empires that crumble and rust
Rivers run dry, smoke fills the sky
Over and over and over and over and
Into the light we carry on
Hold on til daylight when new days dawn
Nations divided and torn
Anger and evil reborn
Chaos, confusion, mindless delusion
Over and over and over and over and
Into the light we carry on
Hold on til daylight when new days dawn
One day you'll find yourself
Under a moonlit sky
Tossing the sovereigns of hope
Into the well of your dreams
Into the light we carry on
Hold on til daylight when new days dawn
Empires that crumble and rust
Rivers run dry, smoke fills the sky
Over and over and over and over and
Into the light we carry on
Hold on til daylight when new days dawn
Nations divided and torn
Anger and evil reborn
Chaos, confusion, mindless delusion
Over and over and over and over and
Into the light we carry on
Hold on til daylight when new days dawn
One day you'll find yourself
Under a moonlit sky
Tossing the sovereigns of hope
Into the well of your dreams
Into the light we carry on
Hold on til daylight when new days dawn
Epictetus, Discourses 2.12.3
Such phrases are technical and therefore tiresome to the lay mind, and hard to follow, yet you and I cannot get away from them. We are quite unable to rouse the ordinary man's attention in a way which will enable him to follow his own impressions and so arrive at admitting or rejecting this or that.
And therefore those of us who are at all cautious naturally give the subject up, when we become aware of this incapacity; while the mass of men, who venture at random into this sort of enterprise, muddle others and get muddled themselves, and end by abusing their opponents and getting abused in return, and so leave the field.
But the first quality of all in Socrates, and the most characteristic, was that he never lost his temper in argument, never uttered anything abusive, never anything insolent, but bore with abuse from others and quieted strife.
If you would get to know what a faculty he had in this matter, read the “Banquet” of Xenophon and you will see how many strifes he has brought to an end. Therefore, the poets too with good reason have praised this gift most highly:
“And straightway with skill he brought to rest a mighty quarrel."
And therefore those of us who are at all cautious naturally give the subject up, when we become aware of this incapacity; while the mass of men, who venture at random into this sort of enterprise, muddle others and get muddled themselves, and end by abusing their opponents and getting abused in return, and so leave the field.
But the first quality of all in Socrates, and the most characteristic, was that he never lost his temper in argument, never uttered anything abusive, never anything insolent, but bore with abuse from others and quieted strife.
If you would get to know what a faculty he had in this matter, read the “Banquet” of Xenophon and you will see how many strifes he has brought to an end. Therefore, the poets too with good reason have praised this gift most highly:
“And straightway with skill he brought to rest a mighty quarrel."
—from Epictetus, Discourses 2.12
In one sense, philosophy can be very much like politics, because those who should practice it want nothing to do with it, while those who shouldn’t practice it are breaking down the door. When the humble amateur looks to the sophisticated professional, he sees only squabbling and self-promotion, tied up in ridiculously specialized language at the expense of any genuine human meaning.
And even the sophists will eventually grow tired of the spectacle, once they no longer find it gratifying, and then they turn their attention to more profitable endeavors. I think of the professors who were itching to become deans, or the priests who had set their eyes on a promotion to bishop.
I once had a teacher who was forever talking about the hidden motives of Socrates, the real reasons he would have conversations with his fellow Athenians.
“Isn’t he trying to inspire people to know themselves?”
“Well yes, but did this just grant him a psychological power over others, or was he also hoping to attain a more systemic form of political power? How did he intend to implement a radical transformation of social justice?”
It is tragic when the jargon of this or that “-ism” discourages us from a simple love of the true and the good.
For all the times I am frustrated by a Socratic dialogue, sometimes to the point of clenching my fists or tossing the book across the room, I never feel like he is trying to sell me on an ideology. I may not know exactly what he wants out of me, but I do know that he was acting in my best interests. If I am patient, and I don’t let my passions get the better of me, I am certain I will walk away with a sliver of insight, as well as a whole new set of questions.
Furthermore, on the most immediate level, I can’t recall a single moment when the old man got angry, or spouted insults, or allowed the tirades of others to knock him off balance. He did have a knack for the occasional sarcastic comment, though this usually helps me to become more critical of myself, despite the initial irritation and confusion.
Have I ever felt offended? Absolutely, and a part of the grueling process is to recognize how the degree of my outrage is a function of my own estimation, not of what anyone else has said or done. I have learned that there are wrongs, and then there are perceptions of wrongs, and the two will not always coincide.
Once, thanks to folks like Socrates, I have a fuller understanding of what actually constitutes benefit and harm, I am not so easily vexed. Even if Socrates only taught me that, it would still be a precious lesson.
I never had any teachers introduce me to Xenophon, so I had to discover his writing for myself. I am very glad I did, since they allowed me to think of Socrates independently from the perspective of Plato. They merely confirmed what I already suspected, that here was man I would be honored to have a discussion with, however much I might be pulling out my hair.
The best philosophical conversations have knocked me down instead of puffing me up, by leaving me with a sharp reminder that I am accountable for my own judgements, and only for my own judgments.
In one sense, philosophy can be very much like politics, because those who should practice it want nothing to do with it, while those who shouldn’t practice it are breaking down the door. When the humble amateur looks to the sophisticated professional, he sees only squabbling and self-promotion, tied up in ridiculously specialized language at the expense of any genuine human meaning.
And even the sophists will eventually grow tired of the spectacle, once they no longer find it gratifying, and then they turn their attention to more profitable endeavors. I think of the professors who were itching to become deans, or the priests who had set their eyes on a promotion to bishop.
I once had a teacher who was forever talking about the hidden motives of Socrates, the real reasons he would have conversations with his fellow Athenians.
“Isn’t he trying to inspire people to know themselves?”
“Well yes, but did this just grant him a psychological power over others, or was he also hoping to attain a more systemic form of political power? How did he intend to implement a radical transformation of social justice?”
It is tragic when the jargon of this or that “-ism” discourages us from a simple love of the true and the good.
For all the times I am frustrated by a Socratic dialogue, sometimes to the point of clenching my fists or tossing the book across the room, I never feel like he is trying to sell me on an ideology. I may not know exactly what he wants out of me, but I do know that he was acting in my best interests. If I am patient, and I don’t let my passions get the better of me, I am certain I will walk away with a sliver of insight, as well as a whole new set of questions.
Furthermore, on the most immediate level, I can’t recall a single moment when the old man got angry, or spouted insults, or allowed the tirades of others to knock him off balance. He did have a knack for the occasional sarcastic comment, though this usually helps me to become more critical of myself, despite the initial irritation and confusion.
Have I ever felt offended? Absolutely, and a part of the grueling process is to recognize how the degree of my outrage is a function of my own estimation, not of what anyone else has said or done. I have learned that there are wrongs, and then there are perceptions of wrongs, and the two will not always coincide.
Once, thanks to folks like Socrates, I have a fuller understanding of what actually constitutes benefit and harm, I am not so easily vexed. Even if Socrates only taught me that, it would still be a precious lesson.
I never had any teachers introduce me to Xenophon, so I had to discover his writing for myself. I am very glad I did, since they allowed me to think of Socrates independently from the perspective of Plato. They merely confirmed what I already suspected, that here was man I would be honored to have a discussion with, however much I might be pulling out my hair.
The best philosophical conversations have knocked me down instead of puffing me up, by leaving me with a sharp reminder that I am accountable for my own judgements, and only for my own judgments.
—Reflection written in 8/2001
IMAGE: Pietro Testa, Drunken Alcibiades Interrupting the Symposium (1648)
Monday, July 6, 2026
Man's Search for Meaning 22
Earlier, I mentioned art. Is there such a thing in a concentration camp? It rather depends on what one chooses to call art.
A kind of cabaret was improvised from time to time. A hut was cleared temporarily, a few wooden benches were pushed or nailed together and a program was drawn up. In the evening those who had fairly good positions in camp—the Capos and the workers who did not have to leave camp on distant marches—assembled there. They came to have a few laughs or perhaps to cry a little; anyway, to forget.
There were songs, poems, jokes, some with underlying satire regarding the camp. All were meant to help us forget, and they did help. The gatherings were so effective that a few ordinary prisoners went to see the cabaret in spite of their fatigue even though they missed their daily portion of food by going.
During the half-hour lunch interval when soup (which the contractors paid for and for which they did not spend much) was ladled out at our work site, we were allowed to assemble in an unfinished engine room. On entering, everyone got a ladleful of the watery soup. While we sipped it greedily, a prisoner climbed onto a tub and sang Italian arias. We enjoyed the songs, and he was guaranteed a double helping of soup, straight "from the bottom"—that meant with peas!
Rewards were given in camp not only for entertainment, but also for applause. I, for example, could have found protection (how lucky I was never in need of it!) from the camp's most dreaded Capo, who for more than one good reason was known as "The Murderous Capo." This is how it happened.
One evening I had the great honor of being invited again to the room where the spiritualistic séance had taken place. There were gathered the same intimate friends of the chief doctor and, most illegally, the warrant officer from the sanitation squad was again present. The Murderous Capo entered the room by chance, and he was asked to recite one of his poems, which had become famous (or infamous) in camp. He did not need to be asked twice and quickly produced a kind of diary from which he began to read samples of his art.
I bit my lips till they hurt in order to keep from laughing at one of his love poems, and very likely that saved my life. Since I was also generous with my applause, my life might have been saved even had I been detailed to his working party to which I had previously been assigned for one day—a day that was quite enough for me. It was useful, anyway, to be known to The Murderous Capo from a favourable angle. So I applauded as hard as I could.
Generally speaking, of course, any pursuit of art in camp was somewhat grotesque. I would say that the real impression made by anything connected with art arose only from the ghostlike contrast between the performance and the background of desolate camp life.
I shall never forget how I awoke from the deep sleep of exhaustion on my second night in Auschwitz—roused by music. The senior warden of the hut had some kind of celebration in his room, which was near the entrance of the hut. Tipsy voices bawled some hackneyed tunes. Suddenly there was a silence and into the night a violin sang a desperately sad tango, an unusual tune not spoiled by frequent playing.
The violin wept and a part of me wept with it, for on that same day someone had a twenty-fourth birthday.That someone lay in another part of the Auschwitz camp, possibly only a few hundred or a thousand yards away, and yet completely out of reach. That someone was my wife.
—from Viktor Frankl, Man's Search for Meaning
Sunday, July 5, 2026
Bach 8, Ach Herr, mich armen Sünder
Epictetus, Discourses 2.12.2
Now how did Socrates proceed? He compelled the man who was conversing with him to be his witness, and needed no witness besides.
Therefore, he was able to say: “I am satisfied with my opponent as a witness, and let everyone else alone: and I do not take the votes of other people, but only of him who is arguing with me.”
For he drew out so clearly the consequences of a man's conceptions that everyone realized the contradiction and abandoned it.
“Does the man who envies rejoice in his envy?”
“Not at all; he is pained rather than pleased.”
Thus he rouses his neighbor by contradiction.
“Well, does envy seem to you to be a feeling of pain at evil things? Yet how can there be envy of things evil?”
So he makes his opponent say that envy is pain felt at good things.
“Again, can a man envy things which do not concern him?”
“Certainly not.”
In this way he made the conception full and articulate, and so went away. He did not say, “Define me envy”, and then, when the man defined it, “You define it ill, for the terms of the definition do not correspond to the subject defined."
Therefore, he was able to say: “I am satisfied with my opponent as a witness, and let everyone else alone: and I do not take the votes of other people, but only of him who is arguing with me.”
For he drew out so clearly the consequences of a man's conceptions that everyone realized the contradiction and abandoned it.
“Does the man who envies rejoice in his envy?”
“Not at all; he is pained rather than pleased.”
Thus he rouses his neighbor by contradiction.
“Well, does envy seem to you to be a feeling of pain at evil things? Yet how can there be envy of things evil?”
So he makes his opponent say that envy is pain felt at good things.
“Again, can a man envy things which do not concern him?”
“Certainly not.”
In this way he made the conception full and articulate, and so went away. He did not say, “Define me envy”, and then, when the man defined it, “You define it ill, for the terms of the definition do not correspond to the subject defined."
—from Epictetus, Discourses 2.12
When I was first introduced to Socrates, somewhere around the age of fourteen, I disliked the old fellow intensely. It felt as if the blowhard was always calling me out, or making me feel ignorant, or damaging my self-esteem, until I gradually realized how this said far more about me than it ever did about him. I attached a smug tone and a condescending smirk to his words, which was nothing but a product of my unruly imagination.
It can be quite a slap in the face to have one’s assumptions challenged, even if the question is offered in good faith. If I can manage to be humble for a moment, I will be grateful for the chance to finally be responsible for myself, leaving behind a dependence on the lazy platitudes and the herd mentality.
On any given day, how often do I use a word, without quite knowing what it means? A bully, of course, will just try to humiliate me for my error, and yet a friend will offer me the opportunity to work it out for myself, through my own thinking, and in my own time. Where the intention is pure, there is never any need for conflict.
Back in high school, I didn’t know how to pronounce “segue” when I was reading aloud, and our class snob wouldn’t let me hear the end of it. I felt certain I had my revenge, however, when she later mangled “boatswain”, but that just proved how I hadn’t really learned my lesson. Decent people thrive by building up, not by tearing down.
More recently, I was using “jealousy” and “envy” in a sloppy manner, at which point someone casually asked me if they meant the same thing. I thought about it for a moment, corrected myself, and was then swept up in a fascinating diversion about the difference between “guilt” and “shame”. It was only much later that I realized how I had been schooled without even being aware of it, much like the time a doctor gave me a shot when I was wasn’t looking.
It is one thing to be scolded for spouting nonsense, and quite another to be motivated into discovering my mistake through my own personal reflection. I think of it like approaching the problem from the inside instead of from the outside, by addressing the causes over hacking away at the effects, or by doing it for myself rather than having it done for me.
Beyond merely feeling envy, there was a time when I would actually take a certain delight in it, a sort of perverse satisfaction in being grossly dissatisfied. Now if you had yelled at me for trying to live a contradiction, or laughed at me for being so pathetic, I would probably have taken it as another excuse for a pity party. But if you had taken the time to ask me if it was possible to be pained by something good, or to be laid low by something that wasn’t properly my business, I would probably have reconsidered my bad habits.
The Socratic Method was far more than a parlor trick. It was a way to help people to help themselves.
When I was first introduced to Socrates, somewhere around the age of fourteen, I disliked the old fellow intensely. It felt as if the blowhard was always calling me out, or making me feel ignorant, or damaging my self-esteem, until I gradually realized how this said far more about me than it ever did about him. I attached a smug tone and a condescending smirk to his words, which was nothing but a product of my unruly imagination.
It can be quite a slap in the face to have one’s assumptions challenged, even if the question is offered in good faith. If I can manage to be humble for a moment, I will be grateful for the chance to finally be responsible for myself, leaving behind a dependence on the lazy platitudes and the herd mentality.
On any given day, how often do I use a word, without quite knowing what it means? A bully, of course, will just try to humiliate me for my error, and yet a friend will offer me the opportunity to work it out for myself, through my own thinking, and in my own time. Where the intention is pure, there is never any need for conflict.
Back in high school, I didn’t know how to pronounce “segue” when I was reading aloud, and our class snob wouldn’t let me hear the end of it. I felt certain I had my revenge, however, when she later mangled “boatswain”, but that just proved how I hadn’t really learned my lesson. Decent people thrive by building up, not by tearing down.
More recently, I was using “jealousy” and “envy” in a sloppy manner, at which point someone casually asked me if they meant the same thing. I thought about it for a moment, corrected myself, and was then swept up in a fascinating diversion about the difference between “guilt” and “shame”. It was only much later that I realized how I had been schooled without even being aware of it, much like the time a doctor gave me a shot when I was wasn’t looking.
It is one thing to be scolded for spouting nonsense, and quite another to be motivated into discovering my mistake through my own personal reflection. I think of it like approaching the problem from the inside instead of from the outside, by addressing the causes over hacking away at the effects, or by doing it for myself rather than having it done for me.
Beyond merely feeling envy, there was a time when I would actually take a certain delight in it, a sort of perverse satisfaction in being grossly dissatisfied. Now if you had yelled at me for trying to live a contradiction, or laughed at me for being so pathetic, I would probably have taken it as another excuse for a pity party. But if you had taken the time to ask me if it was possible to be pained by something good, or to be laid low by something that wasn’t properly my business, I would probably have reconsidered my bad habits.
The Socratic Method was far more than a parlor trick. It was a way to help people to help themselves.
—Reflection written in 8/2001
IMAGE: Johann Friedrich Greuter, Socrates and His Students (c. 1650)
Saturday, July 4, 2026
Sayings of Ramakrishna 286
A snake dwelt in a certain place. No one dared to pass by that way. For whoever did so was instantaneously bitten to death.
Once a Mahâtman passed by that road, and the serpent ran after the sage in order to bite him. But when the snake approached the holy man he lost all his ferocity, and was overpowered by the gentleness of the Yogin.
Seeing the snake, the sage said, "Well, friend, do you think to bite me?"
The snake was abashed and made no reply. At this the sage said, "Hearken, friend, do not injure anybody in future." The snake bowed and nodded assent.
The sage went his own way and the snake entered his hole, and thenceforward began to live a life of innocence and purity without even attempting to harm anyone.
In a few days, all the neighborhood began to think that the snake had lost all his venom, and was no more dangerous, and so everyone began to tease him. Some pelted him, others dragged him mercilessly by the tail, and in this way there was no end to his troubles.
Fortunately, the sage again passed by that way, and seeing the bruised and battered condition of the good snake, was very much moved, and inquired the cause of his distress.
At this the snake replied, "Holy sir, this is because I do not injure anyone, after your advice. But alas! they are so merciless!"
The sage smilingly said, "My dear friend, I simply advised you not to bite anyone, but I did not tell you not to frighten others. Although you should not bite any creature, still you should keep every one at a considerable distance by hissing at him."
Similarly, if you live in the world, make yourself feared and respected. Do not injure anyone, but be not, at the same time, injured by others.
Friday, July 3, 2026
Stobaeus on Stoic Ethics 22
For such things as joy, good spirits, and temperate conversation consist in motion, whereas such things as a well-ordered quietude, undisturbed rest, and a manly attention consist in a state.
Of things which consist in a state, some also consist in a condition, such as the virtues; others are only in a state, such as the above mentioned.
Not only the virtues consist in a condition, but also the crafts which are transformed in the virtuous man by his virtue and so become unchangeable; for they become quasi-virtues.
And they say that the so-called practices are also among the goods which consist in a condition, such as love of music, love of letters, love of geometry, and the like.
For there is a method which selects those elements in such crafts which have an affinity to virtue, by referring them to the goal of life.
IMAGE: Albrecht Dürer, St. Jerome in His Study (1514)
Epictetus, Discourses 2.12.1
Chapter 12: On the art of discussion.
Our philosophers have precisely defined what a man must learn in order to know how to argue: but we are still quite unpracticed in the proper use of what we have learned.
Give any one of us you like an unskilled person to argue with, and he does not discover how to deal with him: he just rouses the man for a moment, and then if he answers him in the wrong key, he cannot deal with him any longer.
He either reviles him or laughs at him ever after, and says, “He is an ignoramus, there is nothing to be got out of him.”
But the true guide, when he finds a man wandering, leads him to the right road, instead of leaving him with a gibe or an insult. So should you do. Only show him the truth and you will see that he follows. But so long as you do not show it him, do not laugh at him, but rather realize your own incapacity.
Our philosophers have precisely defined what a man must learn in order to know how to argue: but we are still quite unpracticed in the proper use of what we have learned.
Give any one of us you like an unskilled person to argue with, and he does not discover how to deal with him: he just rouses the man for a moment, and then if he answers him in the wrong key, he cannot deal with him any longer.
He either reviles him or laughs at him ever after, and says, “He is an ignoramus, there is nothing to be got out of him.”
But the true guide, when he finds a man wandering, leads him to the right road, instead of leaving him with a gibe or an insult. So should you do. Only show him the truth and you will see that he follows. But so long as you do not show it him, do not laugh at him, but rather realize your own incapacity.
—from Epictetus, Discourses 2.12
I have now been on the inside of academia for long enough to divulge one thing to those who are fortunate enough to remain on the outside: while we might be brilliant when it comes to the theory in our books, we are not so terribly good at the practice of dealing with people.
Now all trades can involve a certain degree of grandstanding, but at least the lawyer or the doctor can’t get away with alienating the client or the patient. It’s a shame when the fellow who should be engaging with an argument in the best sense, of patiently arriving at a conclusion from the premises, ends up sinking to an argument in the worst sense, of petty insults and endless bickering.
I usually assume that people don’t like philosophers because we busy ourselves with useless abstractions, and then I remember how every man needs to answer such questions of meaning and of value, whether he happens to be an executive or a janitor. No, the problem is that the scholar simply doesn’t know how to have a conversation with John Doe: he speaks at him instead of talking with him.
However subtle or cultured it may be, contempt always remains contempt, so we shouldn’t be surprised when folks take offense at being treated like fools. For all the clever put-downs I have heard in the classroom or at a conference, not a single one has ever been an aid to any greater understanding. One man walks away feeling self-satisfied, and the other man walks away full of resentment.
The best teachers I had, the ones who rarely won tenure or got their pictures printed on dustjackets, didn’t look down their noses at me, or grow frustrated when I failed to immediately grasp what they were attempting to explain. They stayed by my side, and they would try again and again, eager to find some new perspective to give me a clearer view. If I stared back at them blankly, they did not blame me for being stupid—they challenged themselves to become more careful and considerate.
Those who have truly earned the name of “philosopher” are those who work by proposing rather than imposing. They ask you to think for yourself, and never to toe the party line. They will offer you a friendly nudge instead of twisting your arm. The wish for you to understand the reasons why by your own power, not to comply with the pretentious fancies of their power.
“But these kids are just so damned ignorant!” Pray tell, whose fault is that? They don’t know any better, and yet you claim that you do know better. So why are you slapping them on the wrist instead of taking them by the hand?
I have now been on the inside of academia for long enough to divulge one thing to those who are fortunate enough to remain on the outside: while we might be brilliant when it comes to the theory in our books, we are not so terribly good at the practice of dealing with people.
Now all trades can involve a certain degree of grandstanding, but at least the lawyer or the doctor can’t get away with alienating the client or the patient. It’s a shame when the fellow who should be engaging with an argument in the best sense, of patiently arriving at a conclusion from the premises, ends up sinking to an argument in the worst sense, of petty insults and endless bickering.
I usually assume that people don’t like philosophers because we busy ourselves with useless abstractions, and then I remember how every man needs to answer such questions of meaning and of value, whether he happens to be an executive or a janitor. No, the problem is that the scholar simply doesn’t know how to have a conversation with John Doe: he speaks at him instead of talking with him.
However subtle or cultured it may be, contempt always remains contempt, so we shouldn’t be surprised when folks take offense at being treated like fools. For all the clever put-downs I have heard in the classroom or at a conference, not a single one has ever been an aid to any greater understanding. One man walks away feeling self-satisfied, and the other man walks away full of resentment.
The best teachers I had, the ones who rarely won tenure or got their pictures printed on dustjackets, didn’t look down their noses at me, or grow frustrated when I failed to immediately grasp what they were attempting to explain. They stayed by my side, and they would try again and again, eager to find some new perspective to give me a clearer view. If I stared back at them blankly, they did not blame me for being stupid—they challenged themselves to become more careful and considerate.
Those who have truly earned the name of “philosopher” are those who work by proposing rather than imposing. They ask you to think for yourself, and never to toe the party line. They will offer you a friendly nudge instead of twisting your arm. The wish for you to understand the reasons why by your own power, not to comply with the pretentious fancies of their power.
“But these kids are just so damned ignorant!” Pray tell, whose fault is that? They don’t know any better, and yet you claim that you do know better. So why are you slapping them on the wrist instead of taking them by the hand?
—Reflection written in 8/2001
Thursday, July 2, 2026
Stoic Snippets 285
Where is the hardship then, if no tyrant nor yet an unjust judge sends you away from the state, but Nature, who brought you into it?
The same as if a praetor who has employed an actor dismisses him from the stage.
"But I have not finished the five acts, but only three of them!"
You say it well, but in life the three acts are the whole drama; for what shall be a complete drama is determined by him who was once the cause of its composition, and now of its dissolution: but you are the cause of neither.
Depart then satisfied, for he also who releases you is satisfied.
—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 12.36
IMAGE: Gustave Moreau, The Young Man and Death (1865)
Wednesday, July 1, 2026
Simplicius, Commentary on Epictetus 10.4
. . . Thus Epictetus has given a short but exact character of these three sorts of persons.
The perfect philosophers are guilty of no miscarriages; for their understanding is sufficiently accomplished to direct them, and the irrational part readily submits to those directions. So that there is nothing but harmony and compliance, and consequently, they have nobody to lay any misery to the charge of; for indeed, they cannot labor under anything that is truly and properly misery. They cause none to themselves, for this would be a contradiction to the perfection of their wisdom and virtue, and nothing else causes them any, for they do not suppose any external causes capable of doing it.
The ignorant and untaught err in both these respects. Neither their reason, nor their passions, are rightly disposed. They lay all their unhappiness to others, upon an erroneous imagination, that it proceeds from things without us. And indeed, it is easy and pleasant, and fit for ignorant wretches, to shuffle off their own faults from themselves, and throw them upon other people.
The young proficient, who has attained to the first principles of wisdom, though he be guilty of some miscarriages, and falls now and then into evil, yet he understands wherein it consists, and from whence it is derived, and what it was that first gave birth to it; and therefore he lays it at the right door.
And these marks are so distinguishing, that no man, who makes a wise use of them, can be in danger of confounding these three classes of men, the accomplished philosopher, the rude and untaught, and the young proficient.
This metaphor is so much the more warrantable and pertinent, for the resemblance which education bears to the management of ourselves: for this is properly the training up of a child, under the care and correction of a master.
Our sensual part is the child in us; and, like all other children, does not know its own good, and is violently bent upon pleasure and pastime. The master that has the care of it, is reason; this fashions our desires, prescribes them their bounds, reduces and restrains them, and directs them to that which is best for them.
So that the ignorant and untaught live the life of a child left to himself, run giddily on, are perpetually in fault, as being heady and heedless, and minding nothing, but the gratifying of their own inclinations; and so these men never think themselves to blame.
The young proficients have their master at hand, correcting and instruction them; and the child in them is pretty towardly, and begins to submit to rules.
So that if these men are at any time in the wrong, they are presently sensible who has been to blame, and accuse nobody but the offender himself.
But the perfect and accomplished philosophers are such, whose master keeps a constant eye upon them, and has conquered the child’s stubborn and perverse spirit.
So that now he is corrected and improved, and has attained to the perfection he was intended for; that is, the being observant to the master, and absolutely at his direction. For the proper virtue of a child is this readiness to receive and to obey instructions.
Proverbs 4:20-27
incline your ear to my sayings.
[21] Let them not escape from your sight;
keep them within your heart.
[22] For they are life to him who finds them,
and healing to all his flesh.
[23] Keep your heart with all vigilance;
for from it flow the springs of life.
[24] Put away from you crooked speech,
and put devious talk far from you.
[25] Let your eyes look directly forward,
and your gaze be straight before you.
[26] Take heed to the path of your feet,
then all your ways will be sure.
[27] Do not swerve to the right or to the left;
turn your foot away from evil.
IMAGE: Nicholas Roerich, The Straight Path (1912)
Tuesday, June 30, 2026
Simplicius, Commentary on Epictetus 10.3
. . . None but ignorant and undisciplined people tax others with their misfortunes. The young proficient blames himself; but he who is a philosopher indeed, blames neither others nor himself.
Comment:
The connection of this with what went before is so close, that if a conjunction were added, and we read thus, for none but ignorant and undisciplined people tax other with their misfortunes, it would give a very good reason why we should never lay our troubles, or fears, or disorders, or any other calamity we fancy ourselves in, to anything, or anybody’s charge, but our own: since this way of proceeding, he says, comes from want of being taught better. And then to this character of the ignorant and undisciplined, he adds those of one who is a beginner only in philosophy, and one who has attained to a mastery in it.
The perfect philosopher never thinks anything, that befalls him, evil; or charges anybody with being the occasion of his misfortunes; because he lives up to the dictates of nature and reason, and is never disappointed in his pursuits and desires, nor ever overtaken with his fears.
He that is but raw and unfinished, does indeed sometimes miss of his desires, and fall into the mischiefs he would flee from, because the brutish inclinations move too strongly in him at such times. And when this happens, the first elements he learned, which taught him to distinguish things in and out of our power, teach him too, that he himself, and none but he, is the true cause of all his disappointments, and all his disasters. And the occasion of them all was his mistaking the things without us, and placing a man’s proper good and evil in them.
But you will say, perhaps, since this young philosopher knows, that our own proper good and evil depends upon our own power and choice (and the accusing himself implies that he knows thus much), how comes it to pass, that he takes wrong measures, and renders himself liable to this blame?
Probably, because the knowledge of good and evil is the first step to be made toward virtue, this being the proper act of reason: but the brutish appetites do not always presently submit to reason, nor suffer themselves to be easily reduced and tempered by it; and especially, where it happens, as it does very often, that reason is negligent and sluggish, and the irrational part active, and perpetually in motion, by which means the passions gather strength, and usurp and absolute dominion. This was the case of her in the play:
Remorse and sense of guilt pull back my soul,
But stronger passion does her powers control;
With rage transported, I push boldly on,
And see the precipice I cannot shun.
With rage transported, I push boldly on,
And see the precipice I cannot shun.
So that for some time it is pretty tolerable, if reason can work upon the passions, and either draw them by force, or charm and win them over some softer way: for, when this is done, then the knowledge of the intelligent part is more clear and instructive, and proceeds without any distraction at all.
No wonder therefore, if men but little trained in philosophy make some false steps while their passions are not yet totally subdued, and their reason does not operate in its full strength. And when they do so, they accuse themselves only, as having admitted that distinction of things in and out of our own power, though as yet they seem to have but an imperfect notion of it.
But they that are ignorant, and absolutely untaught, must needs commit a world of errors, both because of that violent agitation which their passions are continually in, and of the ignorance of their rational part, which has not yet learned to distinguish real good and evil, from what is so in appearance only: nor does it take them off from brutality, not so much as in thought only. By brutality I mean such low and mean notions, as persuade us, that our body is properly ourselves, and our nature; or, which is yet worse, when we think our riches so, as the covetous do.
Now while we continue thus ignorant, there are several accounts to be given for our doing amiss: we do it, because we think all our good and evil consist in things without us; and, not being at all sensible, what is properly the happiness or unhappiness of human nature, or whence it proceeds, we fall foul upon other people; and fancy, that they, who obstruct or deprive us of those external advantages we so eagerly pursue, or that bring upon us any of the calamities we would avoid, are the real causes of all our misery.
Though in truth, neither those external advantages which we call good, nor those calamities we call evil, are what we take them for; but, as circumstances are sometimes ordered, may prove the direct contrary. For our folly in this case is just like that of silly boys, who cannot endure their masters, but think them their worst enemies, and the cause of a world of misery, but value and love those as their friends, indeed, that invite them to play and pleasure. . . .
Epictetus, Discourses 2.11.5
What subject, I might ask, lies before us for our present discussion?
“Pleasure.”
Submit it to the rule, put it in the balance. Ought the good to be something which is worthy to inspire confidence and trust?
“It ought.”
Is it proper to have confidence in anything which is insecure?
“No.”
Has pleasure, then, any certainty in it?
“No.”
Away with it then! Cast it from the scales and drive it far away from the region of good things. But if your sight is not keen, and you are not satisfied with one set of scales, try another.
Is it proper to be elated at what is good?
“It is.”
Is it proper, then, to be elated at the pleasure of the moment? Be careful how you say that it is proper. If you do, I shall not count you worthy of the scales.
Thus, things are judged and weighed if we have standards ready to test them: and in fact the work of philosophy is to investigate and firmly establish such standards; and the duty of the good man is to proceed to apply the decisions arrived at.
“Pleasure.”
Submit it to the rule, put it in the balance. Ought the good to be something which is worthy to inspire confidence and trust?
“It ought.”
Is it proper to have confidence in anything which is insecure?
“No.”
Has pleasure, then, any certainty in it?
“No.”
Away with it then! Cast it from the scales and drive it far away from the region of good things. But if your sight is not keen, and you are not satisfied with one set of scales, try another.
Is it proper to be elated at what is good?
“It is.”
Is it proper, then, to be elated at the pleasure of the moment? Be careful how you say that it is proper. If you do, I shall not count you worthy of the scales.
Thus, things are judged and weighed if we have standards ready to test them: and in fact the work of philosophy is to investigate and firmly establish such standards; and the duty of the good man is to proceed to apply the decisions arrived at.
—from Epictetus, Discourses 2.11
So as to assure us that philosophy does not have to be such a perplexing task, Epictetus offers us an example of determining the measure, the sort of inquiry that any thoughtful and patient person can practice, without any training in scholarly subtleties.
And we should not be intimated by obscure terms, especially when the experts hurl them at us in Greek, because there are perfectly good words, from our own everyday language, that can do the job just as well.
Begin with the thing that most people seek in their daily lives: “pleasure”. Then add what is probably the most common adjective: “good”. What does each of these mean? How can they be weighed against one another? We will not get very far if we don’t understand the proper relationship between them.
I often suggest a dry run before addressing the really important stuff, so ask yourself what qualities you might attribute to a good car. You would certainly appreciate style, and luxury, and breathtaking performance, but what use would any of that be if the car is not reliable? I once knew a fellow who owned a Maserati Biturbo, and he was so deeply sad, because it was always at the mechanic and never out on the road.
The same will be true in the more essential aspects of our lives. When push comes to shove, can I rely upon this or that situation to serve me well? I recall the many opportunities I assumed would set me free, only to still find myself dissatisfied. I think of how often I had faith in a so-called friend, and I was then left high and dry when the going got tough. I recognize how many times I made the wrong bet, when the sure thing was right in front of me all along.
With that in mind, will pleasure be a constant source of benefit? Is it absolutely trustworthy, or must I attach various conditions? Even the avowed hedonist is forced to admit how his desires have regularly left him in the lurch, so if gratification is merely relative, it cannot be synonymous with the good we are seeking.
Whatever is contingent has to proceed from what is necessary, or to put it more simply, once I admit how “it depends on . . . ”, I have not yet isolated a meaningful standard. I may call it fun, but that doesn’t make it good.
Coming from a different angle, I don’t believe I have recently heard anyone speak of being “elated”, though I constantly observe people being “excited”, “super-excited”, and “stoked”. We are quick to praise unbridled enthusiasm, though we unfortunately forget why the difference lies in the object of our eagerness. A passion for treachery is far removed from a passion for fidelity. Let us choose our pleasures wisely, so as not to let them destroy us.
Where is the balance? What is the greater, and what is the lesser? To establish the measure, to discover the rule that applies to the particulars, is a requirement for life, not merely an option. This is why we are all called to be authentic philosophers.
So as to assure us that philosophy does not have to be such a perplexing task, Epictetus offers us an example of determining the measure, the sort of inquiry that any thoughtful and patient person can practice, without any training in scholarly subtleties.
And we should not be intimated by obscure terms, especially when the experts hurl them at us in Greek, because there are perfectly good words, from our own everyday language, that can do the job just as well.
Begin with the thing that most people seek in their daily lives: “pleasure”. Then add what is probably the most common adjective: “good”. What does each of these mean? How can they be weighed against one another? We will not get very far if we don’t understand the proper relationship between them.
I often suggest a dry run before addressing the really important stuff, so ask yourself what qualities you might attribute to a good car. You would certainly appreciate style, and luxury, and breathtaking performance, but what use would any of that be if the car is not reliable? I once knew a fellow who owned a Maserati Biturbo, and he was so deeply sad, because it was always at the mechanic and never out on the road.
The same will be true in the more essential aspects of our lives. When push comes to shove, can I rely upon this or that situation to serve me well? I recall the many opportunities I assumed would set me free, only to still find myself dissatisfied. I think of how often I had faith in a so-called friend, and I was then left high and dry when the going got tough. I recognize how many times I made the wrong bet, when the sure thing was right in front of me all along.
With that in mind, will pleasure be a constant source of benefit? Is it absolutely trustworthy, or must I attach various conditions? Even the avowed hedonist is forced to admit how his desires have regularly left him in the lurch, so if gratification is merely relative, it cannot be synonymous with the good we are seeking.
Whatever is contingent has to proceed from what is necessary, or to put it more simply, once I admit how “it depends on . . . ”, I have not yet isolated a meaningful standard. I may call it fun, but that doesn’t make it good.
Coming from a different angle, I don’t believe I have recently heard anyone speak of being “elated”, though I constantly observe people being “excited”, “super-excited”, and “stoked”. We are quick to praise unbridled enthusiasm, though we unfortunately forget why the difference lies in the object of our eagerness. A passion for treachery is far removed from a passion for fidelity. Let us choose our pleasures wisely, so as not to let them destroy us.
Where is the balance? What is the greater, and what is the lesser? To establish the measure, to discover the rule that applies to the particulars, is a requirement for life, not merely an option. This is why we are all called to be authentic philosophers.
—Reflection written in 8/2001
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