Honorary Stoicism 4

Honorary Stoicism 3

The Hymn to Zeus

"Most glorious of Immortals, mighty God,
Invoked by many a name, O sovereign King
Of Universal Nature, piloting
This world in harmony with Law, -- all hail!

"You it is right that mortals should invoke,
For we are Your offspring, and alone of all
Created things that live and move on earth
Receive from You the image of the One.

"Therefore I praise You, and shall sing of Your power
Unceasingly. You the wide world obeys,
As onward ever in its course it rolls
Wherever You guide, and rejoices still
Beneath Your sway: so strong a minister
Is held by Your unconquerable hands--
That two-edged thunderbolt of living fire
That never fails.

"Under its dreadful blow
All Nature reels; therewith You direct
The Universal Reason which, co-mixed
With all the greater and the lesser lights,
Moves through the Universe.

"How great You are,
The Lord supreme for ever and ever!
No work is wrought apart from You, O God,
Or in the world, or in the heaven above,
Or on the deep, save only what is done
By sinners in their folly.

"No, You can
Make the rough smooth, bring wondrous order forth
From chaos; in Your sight the unlovely
Seems beautiful; for so You have fitted things
Together, good and evil, that there reigns
One everlasting Reason in them all.

"The wicked do not heed this, but suffer it
To slip, to their undoing; these are they
Who, yearning ever to secure the good,
Mark not nor hear the law of God, by wise
Obedience unto which they might attain
A nobler life, with Reason harmonized.

"But now, unbid, they pass on diverse paths
Each his own way, yet knowing not the truth, --
Some in unlovely striving for renown,
Some bent on lawless gains, some on pleasure,
Working their own undoing, self-deceived.

"O You most bounteous God who sits enthroned
In clouds, the Lord of lightning, save mankind
From grievous ignorance!

"Oh, scatter it
Far from their souls, and grant them to achieve
True knowledge, on whose might You do rely
To govern all the world in righteousness;

"That so, being honored, we may requite You
With honor, chanting without pause Your deeds,
As all men should: since greater gain never
Befalls on man or god than evermore
Duly to praise the Universal Law."

--Cleanthes of Assos,  Hymn to Zeus (tr Blakeney)

 In my youth, I struggled with religion because of what I perceived as the emptiness of all those endless words of prayer. When I was older, I struggled with religion because of what I perceived as the corruption of precisely all those people who said they were religious.

The Hymn to Zeus by Cleanthes, the second head of the Stoic school, helps me to resolve both of those problems.

If I look at the Hymn simply as empty "God-Talk", I will receive no benefit from it. But if I pay attention to the the content, to the meaning of the words, I will discover something much more. This isn't just a blabbering of blind praise. It is an explanation of why I should trust in Providence.

Don't get caught up just now in the specifics of how you understand God or the Divine, or even whether you believe in a God at all. Look past the immediate impressions to the order of reason. The Universe is subject to constant change, and every effect must have a cause. Something cannot come from nothing. If all things are subject to causality, and all causality is a form of order and purpose, the Universe itself is ruled by order and purpose.

The multitude of all changing things is not fractured and chaotic, but joined together in unity. Call this God, the Absolute, Providence, or Zeus. I once taught a class on the Philosophy of Religion where it helped all the presumption and ensuing conflict to temporarily call it Bob.

Once I can recognize that the Universe has meaning and purpose, all things drawn together by a guiding principle, I need not look at life as random, chaotic, or even unfair. If all things work together for the whole, all things are, in whatever way, part of the good. Even the things we perceive as being evil are also things out of which can, and will, come good.

Even when human beings, given reason and will in the order of Nature, choose to turn away from the truth, Providence, which orders all things, also uses such vice and ignorance as a means to greater perfection. I may not understand how my virtue or my vice will serve all things, but all these things must truly have their place in the harmony of the whole.

The Hymn to Zeus helped me to learn that an understanding of Providence should not be confused with empty psuedo-religious posturing, and that those who engage only in such posturing are, however ignorant and miserable, unwittingly serving Providence in their own way.

Written on 12/15/2010

Image: Enthroned Zeus, Reverse of  silver tetradrachm, reign of Alexander the Great

Honorary Stoicism 2

Stoic treasure hunting.

"The treasures of Croesus and Cinyras we shall condemn as the last degree of poverty. One man and one alone shall we consider rich, the man who has acquired the ability to want for nothing always and everywhere."

--Musonius Rufus, Fragments 34 (tr Lutz)

If I am asked who I am, I will immediately respond with my name. But this is a social convention. I may then give my trade or profession. But this is simply one of the things that I do. I may offer my ancestry or lineage. But that is just where I came from. I may tell you where I live. But that is just a location.

We are too fond of defining ourselves by what is outside of us, and the most telling sign is that we identify who we are by what we possess. This is my house, this is my car, this is my income, this is my career, this is my reputation. These things have nothing to do with me, and I do not even possess them at all. They have come to me through the whims of circumstance, and they will leave me by the will of fortune.

I may be convinced that something is mine because I have earned it. I then realize that it was simply given to me, regardless of my merit. How many times have I lived well, and received nothing from the world? How many times have I lived poorly, and the world has applauded and rewarded me? It all comes and goes, and does not depend upon me.

I am often baffled by the the fact that a man will reach far outside of himself because he is empty inside of himself. I am considered prosperous if I have accumulated wealth, power, or status. Yet to do so is much like defining a man by his clothes or a book by its cover.

A treasure is indeed a possession, but this only makes sense if I understand that I possess nothing outside of me. I possess only myself.  I will become richer inside the less I ask of the world, and the richer I become in the world the more my soul will be impoverished.

Written on 2/1/2000

Honorary Stoicism 1

Success and triumph.

"Success comes to the common man, and even to commonplace ability; but to triumph over the calamities and terrors of mortal life is the part of a great man only.

"Truly, to be always happy and to pass through life without a mental pang is to be ignorant of one half of nature. You are a great man; but how do I know it if Fortune gives you no opportunity of showing your worth? You have entered as a contestant at the Olympic games, but none other besides you; you gain the crown, the victory you do not gain. You have my congratulations--not as a brave man, but as if you had obtained the consulship or praetorship; you have enhanced your prestige.

"In like manner, also, I may say to a good man, if no harder circumstance has given him the opportunity whereby alone he might show the strength of his mind, 'I judge you unfortunate because you have never been unfortunate; you have passed through life without an antagonist; no one will know what you can do--not even yourself.'

"For if a man is to know himself, he must be tested; no one finds out what be can do except by effort. And so some men have presented themselves voluntarily to laggard misfortune, and have sought an opportunity to blazon forth their worth when it was but to pass into obscurity. Great men, I say, rejoice oft-times in adversity, as do brave soldiers in warfare."

--Seneca the Younger, On Providence 3 (tr Basore)

As with all young people of the "ME Generation", I was told by most of my teachers that my life would be measured by my worldly position.

My family still insisted that I would be measured by the content of my character.

It was, and still is, a dichotomy. I can choose to determine the value of my life by what is done to me, or by what I do.

So if I did well on a standardized test, I was told I was a success. If I got into a good college, I was told I was a success. Good jobs would come my way when I did what I was told to do, and all the pleasures of life, of the upper middle class, perhaps even of the upper class if I played it right, would follow.

There is the lie.  All of that depends upon dependence. All these things are external trappings, and come from others, not from me. Once I begin to care about things beyond my power, I succumb. To be given something simply because I have the aptitude and training, the cleverness, the means and the money, the entitlement that comes from wealth and power, isn't what gives me merit as a human being.

I went to a college full of wealthy kids, a few very bright, many not so much, but what most shared in common was that they were entitled. Everything was given to them. Getting into a University, for example, is easy if your father donates many thousands to the college, makes the right connections, sends you to the best prep school, pays your tuition, and buys you a car and a condominium. Most of those young people became quite successful in the world.

We think this is a good life. No. It is success, but not a triumph. Triumph makes good out of adversity, sees misfortune as the opportunity to do good, and that breeds character. 

You might think your life is better because it is easy. No, your life is worse because it is easy. It would be better if it your life was hard. Struggle improves us, not in success, but in triumph. This is not a triumph of boasting and beating one's chest, as that is itself a symptom of the love of success. Triumph is virtue and nothing more. It isn't measured by the trappings of awards or honors, but simply by the fulfillment and joy of having acted for the good when confronted with evil.

My life is not defined by what I am given, in any way, be it wealth, power, or title. My life is defined by what I do.

'Easy Street' isn't all that easy.  My family was quite right.

Written on 3/02/2000

Image: Greek runners at the Panathenaic Games, c. 530 BC

What does it take to be a friend?

"What a man applies himself to earnestly, that he naturally loves. Do men then apply themselves earnestly to the things which are bad? By no means. Well, do they apply themselves to things which in no way concern themselves? Not to these either. It remains, then, that they employ themselves earnestly only about things which seem good; and if they are earnestly employed about things, they love such things also. 

"Whoever, then, understands what is good, can also know how to love; but he who cannot distinguish good from bad, and things which are neither good nor bad from both, can he possess the power of loving? To love, then, is only in the power of the wise.

" 'How is this?' a man may say. 'I am foolish, and yet love my child.' I am surprised indeed that you have begun by making the admission that you are foolish. For what are you deficient in? Can you not make use of your senses? do you not distinguish appearances? do you not use food which is suitable for your body, and clothing and habitation? Why then do you admit that you are foolish?

"It is in truth because you are often disturbed by appearances and perplexed, and their power of persuasion often conquers you; and sometimes you think these things to be good, and then the same things to be bad, and lastly neither good nor bad; and in short you grieve, fear, envy, are disturbed, you are changed. This is the reason why you confess that you are foolish.

"And are you not changeable in love? But wealth, and pleasure and, in a word, things themselves, do you sometimes think them to he good and sometimes bad? and do you not think the same men at one time to be good, at another time bad? and have you not at one time a friendly feeling toward them and at another time the feeling of an enemy? and do you not at one time praise them and at another time blame them?

" 'Yes; I have these feelings also.' Well then, do you think that he who has been deceived about a man is his friend?  'Certainly not.'

"And he who has selected a man as his friend and is of a changeable disposition, has he good-will toward him? 'He has not.'

"And he who now abuses a man, and afterward admires him? 'This man also has no good-will to the other.' "

"Well then, did you never see little dogs caressing and playing with one another, so that you might say there is nothing more friendly? but, that you may know what friendship is, throw a bit of flesh among them, and you will learn.

"Throw between yourself and your son a little estate, and you will know how soon he will wish to bury you and how soon you wish your son to die. Then you will change your tone and say, 'What a son I have brought up! He has long been wishing to bury me.' Throw a smart girl between you; and do you, the old man, love her, and the young one will love her too, If a little fame intervene, or dangers, it will be just the same."

--Epictetus, Discourses 22 (tr Long)

I have always chuckled at that old, corny joke: "The three biggest lies in all of history. 'The check is in the mail.' 'I'm from the government, and I'm here to help.' 'I love you.' "

We appeal to the ideals of love and friendship so regularly, and claim them as the noblest inspiration for our actions. Yet I wonder whether we even know what it means to love or to be a friend, and if we don't even know what love is, how can we possibly practice what we do not understand?

This passage has long served as a support when my impressions start running away with me. The most decisive and difficult event of my life was the loss of someone I considered the closest of friends, and I struggled for many years to make sense of what had happened. Thinking through what Epictetus says here has always given me great comfort.

In harmony with the Stoic principle that every man acts in conformity with what seems to him to be good, it would follow that my ability to love, to appreciate and desire the good in itself, is only as complete as my understanding of what is good. I can only love what I know, and if I do not even understand why I should respect and love the dignity of another person, I will act only on blind feelings and appearances.

I don't take it as elitist at all when Epictetus says that only the wise know how to love. I do not think the wise to be the gifted or educated, but simply those who seek to reflect and understand the nature of themselves and their world, the lovers of truth.

If I act based upon appearances alone, which are in themselves always changing, then my estimation of the good will depend entirely upon those variable impressions. I will then "love" what is pleasant, hate what is unpleasant, if I apprehend the good as pleasure. I will seek what brings fame and shun what brings unpopularity if I apprehend the good as honor. I will desire riches and reject poverty if I apprehend the good as wealth. As all those circumstances change, and as my measures change, what I call "love" will really just be a conditional attraction. It will come and go as all these things come and go.

This has helped me to learn why true friendship is absolute and unconditional, while the friendship of appearances is relative and conditional. If I love another person for their own sake, regardless of utility, I am rising up to virtue. Such friendship has a firm foundation If, however, my attachment is only one of affection and attraction to what is pleasing to my passions, I am falling into vice. Such friendship is fleeting, and will pass when the convenience passes. One is a love of giving, the other a love of receiving.

When I recognize how conditionally another person feels for me, I must not meet this with resentment or despair. I must meet it simply with understanding. I can choose to love, even if I am not loved in return, as long as I hold fast to the principle that it is my own actions that determine my happiness.

Though admittedly quite sentimental, I'm drawn to the image of the Claddagh ring to reflect the meaning of unbreakable friendship. My wife and I swapped out our old bands for a pair of these on our 18th wedding anniversary.

Written on 7/18/2016

Image: a Claddagh ring. The heart represents love. The hands represent friendship. The crown represents loyalty.

Stoicism and Tolkien?

 

The blame game.

"If a thing is in your own power, why do you do it? But if it is in the power of another, whom do you blame? Chance, or the gods? Both are foolish. You must blame nobody. For if you can, correct that which is the cause; but if you cannot do this, correct at least the thing itself; but if you cannot do even this, of what use is it to you to find fault? For nothing should be done without a purpose."

--Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 8 (tr Long)

At the root of all Stoic ethics is the principle that our happiness rests in what is within our power, and not in what is outside of our power. It is easy to say, but more difficult to fully understand or to do. I think this is not because of any great complexity in the concept, but rather because the world around us is constantly telling us the exact opposite. It is difficult to turn to reliance upon one's own thoughts and deeds when most everyone around you is telling you to look outside for contentment, to acquire, to consume, to be seen.

The infamous "blame game" is part of this illusion many of us live under. We come across things in our day that seem harmful or unpleasant, and we immediately look around for who is at fault. Why is my pay so low? It must be the politicians and the bankers. Why am I sick? It's the corporations who put chemicals in my food and poisons in the air. Why am I lonely? Because society is unfair.

Many people around us may well indeed be responsible for many dastardly deeds, but that is on them. I can change what is within my power, and that is the fullness of my living. If good and bad are within my power, then I must only seek one and avoid the other. If good and bad are truly outside my power, no blame will have any purpose. The only effect the blame will have, unfortunately, is to hinder myself with frustration. I must indeed change what I can, but I must also learn to accept what I cannot change.

If I am poor, sick, or alone, it achieves nothing to point a finger at anyone else. I must ask, however, what I myself can do with the circumstances of my life to be good myself. We usually run from the burden of responsibility, but nothing is more liberating that being fully responsible for oneself.

If I see injustice, I can be just. If I see suffering I can give love. If I see loneliness I can offer friendship. The justice, love, and friendship of others, however, are hardly under my control.

I often suggest the exercise of quietly observing a group at work, school, or play. Observe how much time and how many words are spent in criticizing others. The danger of the exercise, and it's subtle lesson, is not starting to blame others for blaming others. I rule only myself. 

Written on 3/20/2005

Image:  Statue of Marcus Aurelius, Piazza del Campidoglio, Rome

Being angry at a blind man?

" 'Ought not then this robber and this adulterer to be destroyed?' By no means say so, but speak rather in this way: 'This man who has been mistaken and deceived about the most important things, and blinded, not in the faculty of vision which distinguishes white and black, but in the faculty which distinguishes good and bad, should we not destroy him?' "

 "If you speak thus, you will see how inhuman this is which you say, and that it is just as if you would say, 'Ought we not to destroy this blind and deaf man?' But if the greatest harm is the privation of the greatest things, and the greatest thing in every man is the will or choice such as it ought to be, and a man is deprived of this will, why are you also angry with him?

Man, you ought not to be affected contrary to nature by the bad things of another. Pity him rather. drop this readiness to be offended and to hate, and these words which the many utter: 'These accursed and odious fellows!' How have you been made so wise at once? and how are you so peevish? Why then are we angry? Is it because we value so much the things of which these men rob us? Do not admire your clothes, and then you will not be angry with the thief. Do not admire the beauty of your wife, and you will not be angry with the adulterer. Learn that a thief and an adulterer have no place in the things which are yours, but in those which belong to others and which are not in your power.

"If you dismiss these things and consider them as nothing, with whom are you still angry? But so long as you value these things, be angry with yourself rather than with the thief and the adulterer. Consider the matter thus: you have fine clothes; your neighbor has not. You have a window; you wish to air the clothes. The thief does not know wherein man's good consists, but he thinks that it consists in having fine clothes, the very thing which you also think. Must he not then come and take them away? When you show a cake to greedy persons, and swallow it all yourself, do you expect them not to snatch it from you? Do not provoke them: do not have a window, do not air your clothes."

---Epictetus, Discourses 18 (tr Long)

It has taken me many years to even begin practicing these principles. I may have understood in theory, but was often failing to apply them in practice. This means, of course, that my judgment of the the good was not complete.

I find the line of reasoning in this passage a daily help in my difficulties with judging and resenting others. It is a struggle to start building up better habits, so I must remind myself regularly what Nature truly asks of me.

We all act in one way or another because we think the action will be beneficial. It is our judgment, therefore, about what is good or bad, right or wrong, that guides, and it is therefore fair to say that ignorance, the absence of understanding, is at the root of our vices. We do not do what is good, because we do not even know what is good.

I bracket, for the moment, more complex questions about moral incontinence, and whether or how a man can truly act against his conscience. My own sense is that whenever we do something we know is wrong, that knowledge is not truly complete or informed, such that the abstract principle we may understand, more or less vaguely, is not being put into concrete practice. I have always thought there is a way to bring the differing views of Plato and Aristotle more closely together on this point, and I think Stoicism helps us with this.

I also resist the temptation of thinking that Epictetus is removing blame or responsibility from those who are ignorant. Their ignorance may be be involuntary or voluntary, and therefore undeserving or deserving of blame, but the key point is to remember that we should seek to help those who are ignorant, not condemn them. Socrates said much the same in the Apology.  We don't make ourselves better through hate or anger, and we certainly don't make the offender any better, either. One man may have treated me poorly, and now I am simply treating him poorly in return. I have compounded the evil.

The beautiful irony of the argument is that we might say that we do not care for wealth, honor, or pleasure, but then we become angry when someone deprives us of wealth, honor, or pleasure. He wants these things only because he ignorantly thinks they are good. This does not mean he has not done wrong, but that is only within his choice. It is, however, within my own power to decide how I will act, and whether I end up choosing to desire the exact same things. The less my wealth, reputation, or luxuries matter to me, the less I will care whether I have them or not.

Written on 7/11/2011

Image: William Blake, The Accusers of Theft, Adultery, Murder (c. 1794)

The many shapes of happiness.

"Just as an army remains the same, though at one time it deploys with a longer line, now is massed into a narrow space and either stands with hollowed center and wings curved forward, or extends a straightened front, and, no matter what its formation may be, will keep the selfsame spirit and the same resolve to stand in defense of the selfsame cause, --so the definition of the highest good may at one time be given in prolix and lengthy form, and at another be restrained and concise.

"So it will come to the same thing if I say: 'The highest good is a mind that scorns the happenings of chance, and rejoices only in virtue,' or say: 'It is the power of the mind to be unconquerable, wise from experience, calm in action, showing the while much courtesy and consideration in intercourse with others.'

"It may also be defined in the statement that the happy man is he who recognizes no good and evil other than a good and an evil mind one who cherishes honor, is content with virtue, who is neither puffed up, nor crushed, by the happenings of chance, who knows of no greater good than that which he alone is able to bestow upon himself, for whom true pleasure will be the scorn of pleasures."

--- Seneca the Younger, On the Happy Life 4 (tr Basore)

I absolutely adore the image Seneca employs. An army may change its shape and formation, but it is still the same army by its essence. We can apply this image to the understanding of happiness. I care less for the technical and scholarly nitpicking about the specific words of a definition. I leave that to others. I care more about the deeper meaning that the words point me toward, and how that might help me live with greater wisdom, virtue, and joy.

Happiness is one of those things we're deeply confused about, and we may each define it in very different ways. But we accord with Nature when we see that all of our different phrases should rightly point to one and the same reality.

Happiness is not pleasure, or wealth, or honor, or power. These are are external things, which are indifferent. Happiness depends upon what we do, not what happens to us. That is the ethical core of Stoicism. It is only about one thing, in the end: how well we live, not our passions but our actions, not the conditions but rather what we choose to make of those conditions.

An army changes its position and order of battle, but it remains steadfast in its goal. Our lives ought to be much the same.

Written on 2/24/2001

Image: Roman Legion, Glanum.

Fortune has no voucher.

"All these fortuitous things, Marcia, that glitter about us--children, honors, wealth, spacious halls and vestibules packed with a throng of unadmitted, clients, a famous name, a high-born or beautiful wife, and all else that depends upon uncertain and fickle chance--these are not our own but borrowed trappings; not one of them is given to us outright.

"The properties that adorn life's stage have been lent, and must go back to their owners; some of them will be returned on the first day, others on the second, only a few will endure until the end. We have, therefore, no reason to be puffed up as if we were surrounded with the things that belong to us; we have received them merely as a loan. The use and the enjoyment are ours, but the dispenser of the gift determines the length of our tenure.

"On our part we ought always to keep in readiness the gifts that have been granted for a time not fixed, and, when called upon, to restore them without complaint; it is a very mean debtor that reviles his creditor.  And so we should love all of our dear ones, both those whom, by the condition of birth, we hope will survive us, and those whose own most just prayer is to pass on before us, but always with the thought that we have no promise that we may keep them forever--nay, no promise even that we may keep them for long.

"Often must the heart be reminded--it must remember that loved objects will surely leave, no, are already leaving.  Take whatever Fortune gives, remembering that it has no voucher."

--Seneca the Younger, To Marcia on Consolation 9 (tr Basore)

I have always been especially taken with Seneca's letter to Marcia. In it, he tries to console a woman who cannot seem to overcome the grief of losing her son. Our own situation may not be the same, but we have all felt the pain of loss in different circumstances and degrees, and we have all experienced the weight of despair. We may lose our possessions, our reputations, our livelihood, our health, or our friends and family to time, distance, or conflict.

When I first read this letter in graduate school, I could not understand the specifics of Marcia's grief. It was providential, I think, that Seneca's words would be helpful years letter, when my wife and I also lost a child. But at the time of my first exposure to the text, I could relate all of his words to a different circumstance, the loss of a friend. The cure does not simply address the particular circumstances, but asks us to step back and consider the very way we consider all of our circumstances.

I have often been frustrated when people are told that they must simply "get over" their pain of loss, and "move on". I find this neither helpful nor considerate, though I imagine we innocently say such things when we don't know what else to say. I know, however, from hard experience, that ignoring, resisting, or suppressing pain offers no true relief, and may, in fact, make the suffering even worse.

I do not expect pain to simply disappear, for it is a passion that is often beyond our power. What I can learn, however, is how to change my judgment and estimation of myself and my circumstances. One of my stock Stoic phrases, kept at hand for easy and quick reference, is "change the thinking and you change the living".

Seneca suggests that we rethink our relationship to persons and things outside of us.When we think that something is ours, "belongs" to us, our attachment seems like a right, and we make our happiness dependent upon these things. Accordingly, when we lose what we think is ours, we fell the pain of loss, and the degree of our agony is in direct proportion to the degree of our reliance.

Seneca is not saying that we should reject love and affection. That isn't what Stoicism is about. But he is saying that we become our own torturers when we assume that a gift of fortune is our possession, and that we are entitled to that possession. Our circumstances are things beyond our power. Rather, the people and things in our lives are a gift of Providence, lent to us to love and find joy in, and we must gladly accept that Providence will ask for their return.

Once I can understand this, that what I thought was mine was never mine, and that I must find my happiness in what I do and give, not in what happens to me or is received, that my thinking is taking the right turn. I will learn not to mourn the loss of someone or something, because I can't lose what wasn't mine to begin with. Remove the relationship of "ownership" from the estimation.

This admittedly seemed cold and heartless to me at first, but I learned that it is actually deeply kind and compassionate. Seneca was helping Marcia to love her son, but not to suffer loss in that love.

Written on  9/12/2013

Image: Auguste Toulmouche, Consolation (1870)

Clever! :-)

More isn't more. Less isn't more. Better is more.

"Occupy yourself with few things, says the philosopher, if you would be tranquil.

"But consider if it would not be better to say: Do what is necessary, and whatever the reason of the animal which is naturally social required, and as it requires. For this brings not only the tranquility which comes from doing well, but also that which comes from doing few things.

"For the greatest part of what we say and do being unnecessary, if a man takes this away, he will have more leisure and less uneasiness.

"Accordingly on every occasion a man should ask himself, Is this one of the unnecessary things? Now a man should take away not only unnecessary acts, but also, unnecessary thoughts, for thus superfluous acts will not follow after."

---Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 4 (tr Long)

Remember to not necessarily trust someone who calls himself a philosopher. To quote the great band King's X, "some are true, some do lie."

I was often told when younger that silence is golden, or that a child speaks only when spoken to. As reactionary as it may sound, I can respect that point of view, to a certain degree. Many years of both teaching and daily living have told me that we all tend to say more than we need to, oftentimes just for the sake of being heard, to fill the awkwardness of silence, or simply to draw attention to ourselves.  Noise and action can become a symptom of our sense of entitlement.

But it isn't about how much we say in quantity. It's all about the quality. Marcus Aurelius has it spot on, I think. I should worry less about how much or how little I say or do in quantity, and I should worry more about how much or how little I say or do in quality.

I shouldn't simplify my life simply to make it simpler, just as I should not complicate my life to make it more complex. I need only ask myself: what is necessary for me to live well, with the excellence that comes from my own character, and without dependence upon anything beyond itself?

There are indeed time when saying or doing nothing is just what Nature demands. And there are other times when the firm stamping of a foot and an impassioned filibuster aimed squarely at life are also necessary.

Don't assume more words or actions are better, and don't assume fewer words and actions are better.  The words and actions I need are defined by only one measure: have I done what virtue demands of me? I must remember that my value isn't about the quantity of my words, deeds, honors, or possessions. It's the quality of what I do, whatever the circumstances.

Written on 8/24/2005

Image:  Salomon Koninck (1609-1656), Philosopher with an Open Book

Don't let others define you.

"How much trouble he avoids who does not look to see what his neighbor says or does or thinks, but only to what he does himself, that it may be just and pure; or as Agathon says, look not round at the depraved morals of others, but run straight along the line without deviating from it."

--Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 4 (tr Long)

I have often struggled to make sense of the tension between what the world preaches to me about the good life, and what it actually practices.

On the one hand, from childhood I was taught that a person should be curious, independent, open-minded, creative, and to follow his own path toward fulfillment.

On the other hand, I see those very qualities discouraged by the examples of indifference, conformity, blind acceptance, and the following of the herd.

The saying and the doing don't always seem to match up.  Perhaps that is because the former is easy, but the latter can be hard?

I see this most often in the way we define our own moral purpose.

I hardly follow my own conscience when I simply do what the mob demands of me.

I recently had a student who understood exactly how and why he was being sent out of class, over and over again, because he was disrespectful and disruptive. After talking about it and thinking the problem through, I think he made an important discovery. He realized that his actions stemmed from a need to be popular, to be liked, to be accepted by others. I was deeply moved by the sincerity of his reflection.

As a creature of being and will, Nature made me to rule myself. When I surrender that gift, I surrender my humanity. And when I determine my own dignity by what others might or might not think of me, I have gone against Nature itself. I am no longer a man, but a puppet.

Conformity or non-conformity, popularity or disgrace, are in themselves indifferent. I must choose to accept either, and to find whatever good there may be in those circumstances. Don't do what you do because it is trendy, don't avoid something because it is frowned upon. Do it because it is right. You are the Captain of your ship.

Follow your conscience, but make certain also that your conscience is informed. None of this means an arrogant submission to our selfish desires. That too, is surrender, not to popularity, but to blind passion.

Cicero once said: "I have always been of the opinion that unpopularity earned by doing what is right is not unpopularity at all, but glory."

Written on 8/14/2005

Image: Paolo Veronese, The Choice of Hercules: Allegory of Virtue and Vice (c. 1565)

Stoicism, Stockdale, and Solzhenitsyn

 I have never really been one to engage in politics, not because I think I'm really any better than all of that, but because I simply don't have the stomach or the skill for it. I've never figured out how to be diplomatic, or to second-guess. That's one of my fatal weaknesses, I suppose.

I had only ever heard of James Stockdale in vague passing as some sort of war hero, and sadly knew little about him before his entry into politics. I was twenty-two, and he was suddenly Ross Perot's VP Candidate.

He became the laughing-stock on SNL and for all of my deeply sophisticated Boston friends. I shamefully admit I played right along, because it is easier to ridicule than to respect, to condemn than to understand. He opened his VP Candidate Debate by asking "Who Am I? Why Am I Here?"  We thought it was senility. It turns out it may been have the words of a true philosopher.

A Navy pilot, Stockdale spent over seven years in a North Vietnamese prison camp, constantly abused and tortured beyond what most of us could ever imagine. He credits his survival to Stoicism, specifically to Epictetus.  His story is worth far more than I can do it credit. If you are able and willing, learn about him, regardless of your politics. It's much bigger than politics.

Here are a few of his own words:

----

"On September 9, 1965, I flew at 500 knots right into a flak trap,
at tree-top level, in a little A-4 airplane--the cockpit walls not
even three feet apart--which I couldn’t steer after it was on fire, its
control system shot out. After ejection I had about thirty seconds
to make my last statement in freedom before I landed in the main
street of a little village right ahead. And so help me, I whispered
to myself: 'Five years down there, at least. I’m leaving the world of
technology and entering the world of Epictetus.'

" 'Ready at hand' from The Enchiridion as I ejected from that
airplane was the understanding that a Stoic always kept separate files
in his mind for (A) those things that are 'up to him' and (B) those
things that are 'not up to him.' Another way of saying it is (A)
those things that are 'within his power' and (B) those things that
are 'beyond his power.' Still another way of saying it is (A) those
things that are within the grasp of 'his Will, his Free Will' and (B)
those things that are beyond it. All in category B are 'external,'
beyond my control, ultimately dooming me to fear and anxiety if I
covet them. All in category A are up to me, within my power,
within my will, and properly subjects for my total concern and
involvement. They include my opinions, my aims, my aversions,
my own grief, my own joy, my judgments, my attitude about what
is going on, my own good, and my own evil.

"To explain why 'your own good and your own evil' is on that
list, I want to quote Alexander Solzhenitsyn from his Gulag book.
He writes about that point in prison when he realizes the strength
of his residual powers, and starts what I called to myself 'gaining
moral leverage'; riding the updrafts of occasional euphoria as you
realize you are getting to know yourself and the world for the first
time. He calls it 'ascending' and names the chapter in which this
appears 'The Ascent':

" 'It was only when I lay there on the rotting prison straw that I sensed
within myself the first stirrings of good. Gradually it was disclosed to
me that the line separating good and evil passes not between states
nor between classes nor between political parties, but right through
every human heart, through all human hearts. And that is why I
turn back to the years of my imprisonment and say, sometimes to
the astonishment of those about me, 'Bless you, prison, for having
been a part of my life.'

"I came to understand that long before I read it. Solzhenitsyn
learned, as I and others have learned, that good and evil are not
just abstractions you kick around and give lectures about and attribute
to this person and that. The only good and evil that means
anything is right in your own heart, within your will, within your
power, where it’s up to you.  

"Enchiridion 32: 'Things that are not within our own power, 

not without our Will, can by no means be either good or evil.'

"Discourses: 'Evil lies in the evil use of moral purpose, 

 and good the opposite. The course of the Will determines
good or bad fortune, and one’s balance of misery and happiness.' In
short, what the Stoics say is 'work with what you have control of
and you’ll have your hands full.' "

-----

But please do read the whole thing for yourself:

http://media.hoover.org/sites/default/files/documents/StockdaleCourage.pdf

Written on 7/28/2004

 

 

"Where then is progress?"

"Where then is progress? If any of you, withdrawing himself from externals, turns to his own will to exercise it and to improve it by labor, so as to make it conformable to nature, elevated, free, unrestrained, unimpeded, faithful, modest; and if he has learned that he who desires or avoids the things which are not in his power can neither be faithful nor free, but of necessity he must change with them and be tossed about with them as in a tempest, and of necessity must subject himself to others who have the power to procure or prevent what he desires or would avoid; finally, when he rises in the morning, if he observes and keeps these rules, bathes as a man of fidelity, eats as a modest man; in like manner, if in every matter that occurs he works out his chief principles as the runner does with reference to running, and the trainer of the voice with reference to the voice — this is the man who truly makes progress, and this is the man who has not traveled in vain."

--Epictetus, Enchiridion 4 (tr Matheson)

Stoicism is not a magic wand. I will not suddenly and majestically be transformed into a magnificent creature without doubts or flaws as soon as I begin to think of my own wisdom and virtue as the greatest currency. I will struggle, I will question myself, I will despair, I will trip and fall. But if I only so choose, I will stand up again, shake off the dust with calm and patience, and I will joyfully continue toward my chosen destination.

My own experiences are mine alone, and as I like to say, your mileage may vary, but I have found that it is the conviction, and the action itself that proceeds from those values, that are themselves the progress. There is no other prize, because it is only my own character that defines me. All the hallmarks and achievements of the world need not be my concern.

And if I fail, or struggle through hardship, or begin to feel the pain of doubt, I must approach that, too, as I think a Stoic should. I will look at the misfortune as an opportunity to become better. And that is itself the progress. The fall can be an encouragement, not a discouragement, because it isn't about what happens to me, it's about what I do with what happens to me.

At one of those professional meetings where we are all supposed to become more motivated and efficient, the group leader asked that well-known question: where do you all see yourself in five years? The responses were confident and creative. Eyes rolled and sighs hissed through the room when it came around to me. "I have no idea where I'll be in five years, but I hope I'll be a better man."  I imagine most people thought I was being difficult and stubborn, which is sadly how I am often perceived. But that was certainly not my attitude or intent. I actually meant every word of it. That is how I truly choose to define my progress.

Written on 10/30/2013

Image: The Temptations of Christ, St. Mark's Basilica, Venice (12th century). The theme is, of course, Christian, but the principle holds just as fully from a Stoic perspective. Christ rejects the external temptations of gluttony, power, and wealth.

Hardship and Virtue

"I should prefer to be free from torture; but if the time comes when it must be endured, I shall desire that I may conduct myself therein with bravery, honor, and courage.

"Of course I prefer that war should not occur; but if war does occur, I shall desire that I may nobly endure the wounds, the starvation, and all that the exigency of war brings.

"Nor am I so mad as to crave illness; but if I must suffer illness, I shall desire that I may do nothing which shows lack of restraint, and nothing that is unmanly.

"The conclusion is, not that hardships are desirable, but that virtue is desirable, which enables us patiently to endure hardships."

--Seneca the Younger, Moral Letters to Lucilius, 67 (tr Gummere)

Only a few lines before the passage quoted above, Seneca describes how, at his age and with the poor conditions of his health, he feels cold even in the summer. He finds himself bound to his bed and finding joy only in books.

I will sometimes feel guilty, because I don't seem to have the perseverance and good spirits of a Seneca. Over the last few years, my health, both mental and physical, will often knock me down. It leaves me in pain, in bed, alone, and with no outside solace. These bouts have a special way of arriving during the Holidays, when I am expected by the world to be cheerful and sociable. That I can do neither seems a burden, and it begins to seem increasingly unfair as the day progresses.

It's only the error of my thinking that does this to me, and in my case, at least, I will still permit my judgment to be pushed around by the force of too many bad habits from my past. Instead of recognizing that the value of my life is in how well I live, regardless of my circumstances, I allow my merit to be measured by my conditions. I haven't fully made the Stoic Turn yet if I'm still struggling with that problem.

To think like a Stoic is not to deny or ignore the force our emotions, but rather to understand that this force can be directed and harnessed. I may not want to be tortured, to go to war, to be laid down by illness. But if I am, and whether I am or not likely had little to do with me. then I can take such seeming misfortune to my advantage. There is nothing great for me about the pain itself, but there is something truly great for me about the endurance, to continue to love and to do good in the face of misfortune. The excellence and the joy are in the action of achievement itself.

Yes, it may hurt, and yes, I may be alone, and yes, I may feel weak and cold, and yes, it may even now, and ultimately will, kill me, but none of that is what I am here for. I may now choose to take any and every circumstance, and to be happy simply by living well with it while I am here.

Happiness can always win, if only we wish it to, because virtue always transforms hardship.

Written on Easter, 2016.

Image: Cristobal Rojas, La Miseria, 1886.

Yes, it might just be that simple ;-)

How should I think about others?

"Do not waste the remainder of your life in thoughts about others, when you do not refer your thoughts to some object of common good. For you lose the opportunity of doing something else when you have such thoughts as these: what is such a person doing, and why, and what is he saying, and what is he thinking of, and what is he contriving, and whatever else of that kind makes us wander away from the observation of our own ruling power.

"We ought then to check in the series of our thoughts everything that is without a purpose and useless, but most of all the over-curious feeling and the malignant; and a man should use himself to think of those things only about which if one should suddenly ask, 'what have you now in your thoughts?' With perfect openness you might, immediately answer, This or That; so that from your words it should be plain that everything in you is simple and benevolent, and such as befits a social animal, and one that cares not for thoughts about pleasure or sensual enjoyments at all, nor has any rivalry or envy and suspicion, or anything else for which you would blush if you should say that you had it in your mind."

---Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 3 (tr Long)

The Emperor-Stoic reminds us to not get caught up in thinking about others. Does he mean that we should have no care, interest, or concern for others at all, or is he perhaps asking us to consider more carefully precisely how we should relate our good to that of others?

Just as it very easy to surrender our lives to be be tossed and turned by our social nature, and to allow our own sense of value to depend to easily on the estimation of others, it can be just as easy to fall for the other extreme, of turning away and rejecting other people entirely. As is so often the case, there is the moderate and reasoned middle ground.  As a being of Nature I am called to love my neighbor, and to seek our shared good together, but this does not mean that I define myself by his view of me.

In the simplest sense, I should think of another when I seek to live well, but I should never think I live well by what he thinks of me.

All the manipulations and machinations of gossip, slander, and jockeying for social position serve no purpose beyond defining our lives through honor and reputation. The Stoic should have no place in it, because he knows that a man is never measured by his status but rather only by his character. Choose to be well, regardless of whether you are though of as being well.

So, I often remind myself that I should think about another when I ask how I can help both him and myself to live well, but I should never  think about another if I'm asking how he can be used as a means to improve my own power and position.

This reduces, in the end, to the basic Stoic truth that I must always find my fulfillment in my own thoughts and deeds, never relying for my happiness upon the thoughts and deeds of others.

Written on 7/28/2009

Image: Eugene von Blaas, Gossip, 1903

It isn't the event, but the judgement of the event. . .

"When you see a man shedding tears in sorrow for a child abroad or dead, or for loss of property, beware that you are not carried away by the impression that it is outward ills that make him miserable.

"Keep this thought by you ‘What distresses him is not the event, for that does not distress another, but his judgement on the event’

Therefore do not hesitate to sympathize with him so far as words go, and if it so chance, even to groan with him; but take heed that you do not also groan in your inner being."

 Epictetus, Enchiridion, 16 (tr Matheson)

Stoicism often seem cold and heartless to those unfamiliar with its teachings. I have always thought of Stoicism as a true expression of love and concern, but I can understand why some of the language seems misleading.

To say, as Stoics do, that all of our external circumstances should be considered as "indifferent" is not to be heartless, uncaring, or emotionless. Stoicism is not being Mr. Spock. A Stoic loves and cares for all his fellows and for all of creation. We are "indifferent" to all things outside of us not because we don't care, but because we recognize that the good or the bad in anything and everything that happens to us can equally be taken for right or for wrong.

In other words, what hurts me isn't what happens to me, but how I judge and consider what happens to me. The reality of the situation isn't the problem. My perception is the problem.

About a decade ago, I seemed to be putting my life back together. Things had gone poorly for some time. I had lost the love of my life, I was deeply disturbed by the corruption in my Church, and I was frustrated by the decadence of my chosen vocation. But things seemed to get better. I met a lovely girl, I found a Pastor I could trust, and I now had a decent job.

But I hadn't licked the problem. I had only been experiencing more favorable conditions in my life, and thought that this made my life better. It didn't.

On Christmas Day of 2000, I felt my life was so much improved. I was so convinced I had turned the corner. This day seemed so perfect. I took my wife to my old family home, and we had a wonderful time. It was one of those crisp, snowy New England days. I decided to take an afternoon walk in the new snow. Big mistake.

As I turned the corner of my street, a neighbor I had known for many years came out of her house. I assumed she was simply offering her Holiday greetings.

Yet she simply said to me, "I'm so sorry!"

"For what?"

"I don't know what she could have been thinking!" She pointed at a house across from hers.

It turned out that the lost love of my life, the girl I'd been getting over for years and years, had bought a house within spitting distance of my parent's home.

I was devastated, and at that point recognized something very important about myself. My sense of contentment at that time had nothing to do with my own character, but was only dependent upon my improved circumstances. I was only a footnote in that girl's life, though she had been the center of mine. She and her new husband bought a new house. Those were the facts. But what I made of it was entirely up to me.

A newly married couple buying a fancy house  in a classy neighborhood. Good for them. Bad for me, only if I choose to make it bad for me. It was was it was. Only my judgement made it bad for me.

Written on 2/12/2010

There can be no road to happiness if I don't know my destination

"To live happily, my brother Gallio, is the desire of all men, but their minds are blinded to a clear vision of just what it is that makes life happy; and so far from its being easy to attain the happy life, the more eagerly a man strives to reach it, the farther he recedes from it if he has made a mistake in the road; for when it leads in the opposite direction, his very speed will increase the distance that separates him."

---Seneca the Younger, On the Happy Life, Book 1

In over twenty years as a teacher, I have especially enjoyed the classes where I can discuss with students, of any age, what is truly most important of all, their happiness.

I usually employ Book 1 of Aristotle's Nicomachean Ethics as a jumping-off point, but the idea is equally at home in the philosophy of Stoicism, as Seneca's words make clear.

Whatever term we may use for it, we will all agree that we want to be happy, the one thing we desire above all else, and for the sake of which we do all other things. It is our end, our goal, our destination.

The problem, however, is simply this: how am I to achieve this goal if I don't fully understand what happiness is? Is the shotgun approach, the random draw of the card, or stumbling around in a dark room really going to cut it?

I cannot arrive at my destination if I don't even know what my destination is, and if I don't know where I am going, I will never know if I am on the right road. It reminds me of being lost in the winding streets of downtown Boston, where you need to look like a tourist with a map glued to your face if you weren't born and raised there.

In our world of gratification, many might say that pleasure is happiness. In our world of status and position, many might consider it to be honor. In our world of greed, many might consider it to be wealth or power. For the Stoic, as for the Aristotelian, such things can never be complete ends. Our human nature is defined not by what we get from the world, but how fully we act and live with virtue.

To define myself by the pleasure, honor, or wealth outside of me is a passive dependence upon what is beyond my control and it rests only in things other than myself.  To rely on the excellence of my own character, however, is fully my own and depends solely on my own activity.

An inanimate object follows Nature ruled by physical laws, while a plant or animal follows Nature ruled by instinct and passion, but a man follows Nature through reason and will. My dignity is in what I do, not in what is done to me.

My students always struggle with this, and that is a very good thing. Philosophy asks them what is most important in life so we can know how to get there. They may begin, as well do, with blind assumptions, proceed into confusion and even despair, but if they only choose to apply themselves to the question, not merely on an academic but on a personal level, the road map will slowly begin to take shape.

Written on 2/6/2016

Image: Robert Zünd, The Road to Emmaus, 1877

"In the morning, when you rise unwillingly. . ."

"In the morning when you rise unwillingly, let this thought be present--I am rising to the work of a human being. Why then am I dissatisfied if I am going to do the things for which I exist and for which I was brought into the world?

"Or have I been made for this, to lie in the bedclothes and keep myself warm?

" 'But this is more pleasant.'

"Do you exist then to take your pleasure, and not at all for action or exertion? Do you not see the little plants, the little birds, the ants, the spiders, the bees working together to put in order their several parts of the universe? And are you unwilling to do the work of a human being, and do you not make haste to do that which is according to thy nature?

" 'But it is necessary to take rest also.'

"It is necessary: however nature has fixed bounds to this too: she has fixed bounds both to eating and drinking, and yet you go  beyond these bounds, beyond what is sufficient; yet in your acts it is not so, but you stop short of what you can do."

---Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 5 (tr Long)

 It seemed to me both a blessing and a curse that I was born a child of two very different eras. I was born into a family that still valued character above all else, but I was also raised and schooled in a world where the need for pleasure. power, or success was the norm.

I thought my background a curse, of course, when I was younger, when I often sought selfishness above all else. I now see that background as a moral anchor.

Later, I considered living in a secular, consumer world, ordered towards entitlement and instant gratification, as a curse. I now see that as a blessing as well, because it reminds me daily of what I must not be.

Our circumstances are only blessings or curses as much as we choose them to be.

I try to think of this not as a struggle between ages or epochs, or between clashing cultural norms, but as a question about my own nature.

With apologies to that brilliant TV show, Babylon 5: Who am I? What do I want? Why am I here? Where am I going?

If I can't answer these questions, nothing will matter for anything. Philosophy isn't the obscure search for abstract concepts. It is the need for real goals and values.

Here is, I believe, the deeper question: am I made to receive, or to give? Have I been created to be just a beast or also a man? Do I define myself by my instincts or by my knowledge and love? Am I here to serve or to be served?

In the simplest sense, am I a creature of passion or of action? Do I identify myself by what comes to me, or by what I I do?

As soon as I say, "I love it because it feels right," I've crossed that line into intemperance.  I need to learn that nothing should be defined only by how it feels to me; things should be defined by what they are, in their own nature, known by the intellect and loved by the will, for their own sake.

Written on 9/9/2009

Image: Hieronymus Bosch, Allegory of Intemperance, c. 1490

The Rat Race

Humor can have deep Stoic significance :-)

"Does another do me wrong?"

"Does another do me wrong? Let him look to it. He has his own disposition, his own activity. I now have what the universal Nature wills me to have; and I do what my nature now wills me to do."

---Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 5 (tr Long)

We have an uncanny ability at flipping the order of Nature over into an order of imaginings. Instead of recognizing that I can find my happiness in what is under my own power, in my own wisdom and virtue, I lash outwards by making my life depend entirely upon the things outside of my power, the thinking and actions of others.

I have too often made myself a victim of the blame game. If I feel that I have been wronged by another, I embrace my impressions of hurt, I dwell upon the injustice, I cast blame. I have allowed myself to be ruled by my resentment. By all means, I must help a man toward the good, but his judgments and actions are his own, and mine are my own. I should worry more about my own words and deeds than I do about his.

What I have long called the "Stoic Turn" is redirecting my own thinking toward the correct balance, from being ruled to ruling myself. It entails seeing everything upside down from the way most of the the rest of the world sees them, though according to Nature they are, of course, right side up.

I think it a beautiful irony, a characteristic I find in Stoicism again and again, that when I meet an injustice with resentment or vengeance, and I try to forcibly change my circumstances, I make everything worse, but when I seek only to make myself better, that very example is the thing most helpful in helping others improve themselves.

Written on 2/16/2010

Who can be like Cincinnatus?

"If we applied ourselves as busily to our own work as the old men at Rome do to those matters about which they are employed, perhaps we also might accomplish something. I am acquainted with a man older than myself who is now superintendent of corn at Rome, and remember the time when he came here on his way back from exile, and what he said as he related the events of his former life, and how he declared that with respect to the future after his return he would look after nothing else than passing the rest of his life in quiet and tranquillity. 'For how little of life,' he said, 'remains for me.' "

" I replied, 'You will not do it, but as soon as you smell Rome, you will forget all that you have said; and if admission is allowed even into the imperial palace, you will gladly thrust yourself in and thank God.' 'If you find me, Epictetus,' he answered, 'setting even one foot within the palace, think what you please.'

"Well, what then did he do? Before he entered the city he was met by letters from Caesar, and as soon as he received them he forgot all, and ever after has added one piece of business to another. I wish that I were now by his side to remind him of what he said when he was passing this way and to tell him how much better a seer I am than he is."

---Epictetus, Discourses 1.10 (tr Long)

Who will be able, like Cincinnatus, to turn away  from power once he has tasted of it? Who can promise that he will only pursue pleasure, honor, or wealth up to a certain point, and then with noble moderation, pry himself from further desire?

Back in elementary school, I once asked a teacher why it seemed that most politicians seemed to be career politicians. They rarely seemed to pursue office, do their duty, and then retire without need for any further fame. They often seemed to pursue higher and higher office, and then even passed their ambition on to their children. I was told this was because great men and women felt the need to do great things. I hope that is true, but I wonder if sometimes it simply comes down to avarice. Once I have begun to seek satisfaction in the trappings of the world, in the things outside of me, it may become impossible to resist being swept away by their force. I will have surrendered myself.

They say that George Washington, much like Cincinnatus, freely stepped away from power, from a virtual kingship, out of a love of character over ambition. I suspect that such action is an indicator of the difference between a man who serves, and one who wishes to be served.

Written on 7/7/2014

Stoic Poetry?

These three classic poems seem to me to have a deeply Stoic character.

Invictus

Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeoning of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find me, unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.

---William Ernest Henley

*****

If--

If you can keep your head when all about you
 Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
  But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
  Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or being hated, don’t give way to hating,
  And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream—and not make dreams your master;
  If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
  And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
  Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
  And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools:

If you can make a heap of all your winnings
  And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
  And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
  To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
  Except the Will which says to them: “Hold on!”

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
  Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
  If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
  With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
  And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son!

--Rudyard Kipling

*****

Desiderata

Go placidly amid the noise and the haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence. As far as possible, without surrender, be on good terms with all persons.
Speak your truth quietly and clearly; and listen to others, even to the dull and the ignorant; they too have their story.
Avoid loud and aggressive persons; they are vexatious to the spirit. If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain or bitter, for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.
Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans. Keep interested in your own career, however humble; it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.
Exercise caution in your business affairs, for the world is full of trickery. But let this not blind you to what virtue there is; many persons strive for high ideals, and everywhere life is full of heroism.
Be yourself. Especially, do not feign affection. Neither be cynical about love; for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment it is as perennial as the grass.
Take kindly the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth.
Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune. But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings. Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.
Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself. You are a child of the universe no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here.
And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should. Therefore be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Him to be.
And whatever your labors and aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life, keep peace in your soul. With all its sham, drudgery and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world. Be cheerful. Strive to be happy.

--- Max Ehrmann

"God does not make a spoiled pet of a good man. . . "

". . . So, when you see that men who are good and acceptable to the gods labor and sweat and have a difficult road to climb, and that the wicked, on the other hand, make merry and abound in pleasures, reflect that our children please us by their modesty, but slave-boys by their forwardness; that we hold in check the former by sterner discipline, while we encourage the latter to be bold.

"Be assured that the same is true of God. He does not make a spoiled pet of a good man; he tests him, hardens him, and fits him for his own service.

"You ask, 'Why do many adversities come to good men?' No evil can befall a good man; opposites do not mingle. Just as the countless rivers, the vast fall of rain from the sky, and the huge volume of mineral springs do not change the taste of the sea, do not even modify it, so the assaults of adversity do not weaken the spirit of a brave man."

---Seneca the Younger, On Providence 2 (tr Basore)

Nothing has troubled me more in this life than the fact that good people suffer, while bad people prosper. I doesn't even seem to be a matter of the luck of the draw. It often seems to be the law of the land.

I must distinguish. What do I mean by suffering or prosperity? How am I defining success or failure in this life?

Perhaps Providence isn't punishing me at all. Perhaps adversity can be a gift to me, just as good fortune is a curse to the wicked man?

A few weeks ago, Providence took our first son from us. And it is entirely in my own judgment and action that I might choose to make good or evil of fortune.

 Written on 12/31/1998

Image: Vincent Van Gogh, Sorrowing Old Man (At Eternity's Gate), 1890