On Constancy 7

. . . "An example of another kind. 'Assume the governorship of a province.'

"I assume it, and when I have assumed it, I show how an instructed man behaves.

"''Lay aside the laticlave and, clothing yourself in rags, come forward in this character.'

"What then, have I not the power of displaying a good voice? How, then, do you now appear? As a witness summoned by God.

"''Come forward, you, and bear testimony for me, for you are worthy to be brought forward as a witness by me: is anything external to the will good or bad? do I hurt any man? have I made every man's interest dependent on any man except himself?'

"What testimony do you give for God?

"'I am in a wretched condition, Master, and I am unfortunate; no man cares for me, no man gives me anything; all blame me, all speak ill of me.'

Is this the evidence that you are going to give, and disgrace his summons, who has conferred so much honor on you, and thought you worthy of being called to bear such testimony?"

--Epictetus, Discourses 1.29 (tr Long)

Consider all the desirable, high profile professions of our world, in politics, business, law, medicine, academics, or entertainment. Now remove all the trappings that go with them. What is left?

It need not simply be the the big things, like the obscene salaries, the media exposure, or all the finery and luxury. The small benefits count very much as well, the little daily posturing and posing we all seem to crave.

Remove all these things, scrape away the externals, and what sort of inner character reveals itself? Such an exercise can be deeply uncomfortable for any of us. What am I serving, and to what am I bearing witness? Do I pursue my own virtue, or do I depend upon my surroundings to prop me up? Do I treat my fellows with love and justice or with contempt and abuse? Do I see others as ends in themselves, or merely as means to my own end?

I often notice how often we complain about our circumstances instead of simply doing right, and then I catch myself in the bitter irony of it all, the fact that I am complaining about complaining. That's just another form of passing the buck, so I try my hardest to worry only about myself, about that which is within my power.

I hardly think that a man serves God by the color of his robes or his place at the table. Whether or not he knows it, he serves God simply by living according to the nature with which he was made. 

Written in 4/1999

Image: Cesare Dandini, Personification of Constancy, c. 1634

On Constancy 6

. . . "A man must keep this in mind; and when he is called to any such difficulty, he should know that the time is come for showing if he has been instructed. For he who is come into a difficulty is like a young man from a school who has practiced the resolution of syllogisms; and if any person proposes to him an easy syllogism, he says, 'Rather propose to me a syllogism which is skillfully complicated that I may exercise myself on it.'

"Even athletes are dissatisfied with slight young men, and say 'he cannot lift me.' 'This is a youth of noble disposition.'

"But when the time of trial is come, one of you must weep and say, 'I wish that I had learned more.' A little more of what? If you did not learn these things in order to show them in practice, why did you learn them?

"I think that there is some one among you who are sitting here, who is suffering like a woman in labor, and saying, 'Oh, that such a difficulty does not present itself to me as that which has come to this man; oh, that I should be wasting my life in a corner, when I might be crowned at Olympia. When will any one announce to me such a contest?'

"Such ought to be the disposition of all of you. Even among the gladiators of Caesar there are some who complain grievously that they are not brought forward and matched, and they offer up prayers to God and address themselves to their superintendents entreating that they might fight.

"And will no one among you show himself such? I would willingly take a voyage for this purpose and see what my athlete is doing, how he is studying his subject. 'I do not choose such a subject,' he says. Why, is it in your power to take what subject you choose? There has been given to you such a body as you have, such parents, such brethren, such a country, such a place in your country: then you come to me and say, 'Change my subject.' Have you not abilities which enable you to manage the subject which has been given to you?

"'It is your business to propose; it is mine to exercise myself well.' However, you do not say so, but you say, 'Do not propose to me such a tropic, but such: do not urge against me such an objection, but such.'

"There will be a time, perhaps, when tragic actors will suppose that they are masks and buskins and the long cloak. I say, these things, man, are your material and subject? Utter something that we may know whether you are a tragic actor or a buffoon; for both of you have all the rest in common. If any one then should take away the tragic actor's buskins and his mask, and introduce him on the stage as a phantom, is the tragic actor lost, or does he still remain? If he has voice, he still remains." . . .

--Epictetus, Discourses 1.29 (tr Long)
 

 The practice of constancy proceeds from the ability and willingness to confront difficulty, and this in turn proceeds only from a correct understanding of the human good. If I define myself by the content of my choices and actions, I am capable of constancy. If I define myself by the conditions of all the things around me, constancy becomes impossible. I cannot say that I am measured only by my character, while also insisting that my character is determined by the waxing and waning of fortune.

Such moral courage should not be confused with the drive to conquer, to consume, or to possess. That is nothing but another form of dependence upon externals.

Such moral courage should also not be confused with the cold and heartless satisfaction of exercising brute strength. We should not equate mere toughness with the conviction of character.

A sign that constancy is lacking is when we wish to bargain with our circumstances. Instead of freely accepting the challenges life has given us, we wish to change the terms of the challenge, so as to better suit our preferences. I have found myself guilty of this many times. If only this hadn't happened, or I had never met this person, or I had made a different decision in the past, I would be able to bear the challenge I am facing. It would then, of course, hardly be a challenge, because it would be a new circumstance of my own devising.

No, I must accept what is presented to me, not begrudgingly, but with the joy and confidence of someone who rests upon his own convictions.

Children will sometimes have the habit of changing the rules of a game even as it is being played, so as to bring them to an easier victory. Yet this is hardly a victory, because I have not risen to the occasion, but lowered the occasion to suit me.

If I remove all the trappings, all the appearances, all the props and costumes, and only I remain, can I still be said to be truly constant?
 

Written in 4/1999

Image: Cesare Dandini,  Personification of Constancy, c. 1634

Dorothy Day

On Constancy 5

. . . "Then sitting in prison I say: 'The man who cries out in this way neither hears what words mean, nor understands what is said, nor does he care at all to know what philosophers say or what they do. Let him alone.'

"But now he says to the prisoner, 'Come out from your prison.' If you have no further need of me in prison, I come out: if you should have need of me again, I will enter the prison. 

"'How long will you act thus?' So long as reason requires me to be with the body: but when reason does not require this, take away the body, and fare you well. Only we must not do it inconsiderately, nor weakly, nor for any slight reason; for, on the other hand, God does not wish it to be done, and he has need of such a world and such inhabitants in it. But if he sounds the signal for retreat, as he did to Socrates, we must obey him who gives the signal, as if he were a general.

"'Well, then, ought we to say such things to the many?' Why should we? Is it not enough for a man to be persuaded himself? When children come clapping their hands and crying out, 'Today is the good Saturnalia,' do we say, 'The Saturnalia are not good?' By no means, but we clap our hands also. Do you also then, when you are not able to make a man change his mind, be assured that he is a child, and clap your hands with him, and if you do not choose to do this, keep silent." . . .

--Epictetus, Discourses 1.29 (tr Long)

As Epictetus mentioned in the previous section, the man who thinks and lives like a philosopher will most likely be mocked and ridiculed. I must understand that this is because others might not understand a very different measure of the good, and they assume that the accumulation of power and influence is in itself desirable.  There is no need to be angry, and no need to engage in conflict. I can continue to live in a way I know to be right and leave these people be.

The tyrant, the one who craves the control of others, may put me in prison, or he may let me out of it. Perhaps he enjoys the display of force at one moment, and the appearance of mercy at another. But note that he cares for the impression, not the content. I can continue to live well, wherever he may put me, because I can make good use of any and every circumstance. I've lost track of the number of times Dorothy Day was arrested or jailed. 

I must always see the good in my circumstances as relative. I should neither desire them for their own sake, nor reject them for their own sake. Whenever they can help me to live well, I must employ them with courage. Whenever they hinder me from excellence, I must be willing to put them aside. This will include my property, my reputation, and even my body itself. 

Again, there can be no place for resentment here, which I increasingly find is one of the greatest obstacles to the Stoic Turn. Whether it be the Roman Saturnalia or our modern version of Christmas, people will often use holidays as a means for greed and gratification. As soon as I hold a grudge about this, I clearly am not doing it right. If I cannot convince others with reason and kindness, I should hold to my own values, and not force them upon others. As soon as I condemn and coerce, I'm embracing the very lust for control over others that I'm trying to avoid.

Written in 4/1999

Image: Cesare Dandini, Personification of Constancy, c. 1634

On Constancy 4

 . . . "But show me that he who has the inferior principles overpowers him who is superior in principles. You will never show this, nor come near showing it; for this is the law of nature and of God that the superior shall always overpower the inferior. In what? In that in which it is superior.

"One body is stronger than another: many are stronger than one: the thief is stronger than he who is not a thief. This is the reason why I also lost my lamp, because in wakefulness the thief was superior to me. But the man bought the lamp at this price: for a lamp he became a thief, a faithless fellow, and like a wild beast. This seemed to him a good bargain. Be it so.

"But a man has seized me by the cloak, and is drawing me to the public place: then others bawl out, 'Philosopher, what has been the use of your opinions? see you are dragged to prison, you are going to be beheaded.'

"And what system of philosophy could have made it so that, if a stronger man should have laid hold of my cloak, I should not be dragged off; that if ten men should have laid hold of me and cast me into prison, I should not be cast in? Have I learned nothing else then?

"I have learned to see that everything which happens, if it be independent of my will, is nothing to me. I may ask if you have not gained by this. Why then do you seek advantage in anything else than in that in which you have learned that advantage is?" . . .

--Epictetus, Discourses 1.29 (tr Long)

All of this may still seem so terribly odd. It may seem that the Stoic is in a state of delusion and denial, rejecting the reality of external circumstances, or trying to wish the world away. Perhaps Epictetus is really just saying that if we close our eyes and ears firmly enough, the thief who steals my lamp or the tyrant who grabs me by the cloak will just sort of disappear?

But Epictetus is in no way claiming that the lamp and the thief, the cloak and the tyrant, do not exist. Nor is he saying that there is no value in them. The lamp can give me light, the cloak can keep me warm, and the thief and the tyrant are other men like myself, however misguided they may be.

No, it is not that the things external to me are unreal or without value, but rather that I must understand the order of all the good things in Nature, and how different things become inferior or superior in my relationship to them.

I sometimes think of it like a balance sheet. What has been added and subtracted, credited and debited, and for what benefit and at what cost have I acted? The thief is indeed stronger than me in wakefulness, and the ten men are stronger than me in force. They have now gained either a lamp, or my cloak, or my very body. At the same time they have lost their very excellence as men. Does this seem like a good bargain?

Many people in myth and legend have sold their souls, their very identities, for lower benefits, and the lesson, of course, is that they learn far too late that they have sold something greater for something lesser.

There is far greater strength in ruling and possessing myself, because that is something entirely within my power. There is an unconditional guarantee, or an irrevocable warranty. A dependence upon things external to me is far weaker, because they are outside of my power. It is like trading something reliable for something unreliable.

Only an understanding of my own human nature, as a being made to rule himself by reason and choice, will allow me to see how my own self-reliance, my responsibility for myself, is superior to any circumstances. I have not been truly 'dragged off' or 'cast in' if you take my cloak, imprison me, or behead me, because weaker things cannot defeat stronger things.

It all rests in seeing where and how something is stronger or superior. The thief and the tyrant have made a bad deal.

Written in 4/1999

Image: Cesare Dandini, Personification of Constancy, c. 1634

Stoicism ≠ hatred of the body or of the emotions

I received an e-mail from a truly fine student in my Ancient Philosophy class a few years back. She was very angry, and sent it to me only after grades had been submitted, perhaps thinking I would have lowered her average because she was expressing her own point of view. She clearly did not know me very well.

"I am very offended that you would teach about Stoics at a Catholic school. Those people have no place in a Christian life. They deny the body, and they deny the emotions.  Christ died on the Cross, and he suffered in His full Body and in His complete Humanity. Socrates wanted to die, and didn't care at all about his body or his humanity. Christ redeems us. Those Stoics you like so much deny who we are. You need to read Charles Taylor."

I made a futile attempt to make things right with her. I had already read Charles Taylor, of course, but that was neither here nor there. Until that young lady graduated, she would tell other students never to take my classes, because I was against Christ.

First, I have taught many things, not because I agree or disagree with them, but because I'd like students to learn to agree or disagree for themselves, using sound reasoning. I'm rather competent at teaching Hume and Nietzsche, for example, though I can't bear that sort of thinking for myself.

Second, Stoicism does not deny the human body or emotions. Rather, Stoicism says that they are good, as all things in Nature are good, but for us morally, and for our living, we must see them in a context. The lower goods must serve the higher goods. The Stoic feels, and bleeds, like any other man. Sometimes, he feels and bleeds with great suffering. I know this all too well.  I can't imagine that Socrates didn't care about his life, his wife, his children, or his friends. But he knew he would need to see what was relative through what was absolute.

A false dichotomy assumes an either/or, where there should be a both/and. 

The Stoics are not Manichean dualists, and they do not believe that matter is evil. The Stoic concept of indifference is very much like that of St. Ignatius of Loyola. It's all about means and ends.

Third, why do we so often feel the need to dig trenches where there can be bridges? In one sense, Stoicism and Christianity are like apples and oranges, because one is about philosophy, the other about theology. This doesn't oppose them, however, any more than apples are opposed to oranges.

It does mean that one must understand that the Stoics were working from reason alone. A Christian works from reason informed by faith. Cannot the former be perfected and completed by the latter? Can't I have my apples and my oranges?

I know my Star Trek well enough to recognize that Mr. Spock was hardly cold and emotionless. The closing scene from The Wrath of Khan tells me all I need to know about that. Like all of his people, a race who had nearly destroyed themselves through their own intemperance, he was struggling to order his passions through his reason. All of us are called to do this, whatever the external faces we may wear.

"I have been, and always shall be, your friend."

"Of all the souls I have encountered in my travels, his was the most. . . human."

Can you see even Lt. Saavik shedding a tear?

The robotic stereotype of Spock, like the lifeless stereotype of Stoicism, is deeply mistaken, and deeply harmful. Of course Spock cared, and he suffered, and he sacrificed precisely because he cared. The Stoic loves, he feels, he finds joy in Nature, and he recognizes the good in each and every thing in this world. Let's not make Stoicism something that is isn't.

If we wish to follow Christ, let us also strive to live as He did. We don't need to cut off the heads of others to make ourselves feel tall. 

Written in 8/2014

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fHAOWLhrxhQ

Now we know the real reason!

On Constancy 3

. . . "'How strange, then, that Socrates should have been so treated by the Athenians.' Slave, why do you say Socrates? Speak of the thing as it is: how strange that the poor body of Socrates should have been carried off and dragged to prison by stronger men, and that any one should have given hemlock to the poor body of Socrates, and that it should breathe out the life.

"Do these things seem strange. do they seem unjust, do you on account of these things blame God? Had Socrates then no equivalent for these things, Where, then, for him was the nature of good?

"Whom shall we listen to, you or him? And what does Socrates say? 'Anytus and Meletus can kill me, but they cannot hurt me': and further, he says, 'If it so pleases God, so let it be.'" . . . 

--Epictetus, Discourses 1.29 (tr Long)

 Surely Socrates succumbed to great strength and power, when he was imprisoned, tried, and executed? Couldn't he have played the game a bit more expertly and survived to continue his mission, or even have raised a protest from all the young dissatisfied souls who listened to his teachings? At the very least, he could have defended himself more tactfully, and tugged at the heartstrings of the jurors.

I have heard all kinds of trendy explanations of why Socrates acted as he did. He basically committed suicide because did not wish to live the painful life of an old man, or he wanted to die with the image of a popular martyr, or he was simply an egomaniac. I only know Socrates from what was written about his words and deeds, but if any of these theories are true, then he is absolutely not worth listening to. If he was playing to circumstances in any such a way, then he was nothing but a hypocrite, and then his principles meant nothing at all.

With Epictetus, I think what made Socrates so special was that he had a very different sense of the nature of the good than most of us. He is the grandfather of all Stoics, because he understood that a man is measured by how well he lives in character, and all other circumstances are relative and subservient to this end. He was not worried about his imprisonment or his death at all, because he did not measure the freedom of the body, his possessions or reputation, even his survival as good in themselves.

Socrates was not defeated at all, if we understand the standards of victory and defeat in the right. Anytus and Meletus could not harm him, because Anytus and Meletus could not touch his soul.

I have a short list of passages from philosophy, theology, and literature that I have committed to memory, and these are my refuge and my strength when I feel I am about to go under. I feel no shame in repeating them over and over. This is one of them, straight from Plato's Apology:

"Men of Athens, I honor and love you; but I shall obey God rather than you, and while I have life and strength I shall never cease from the practice and teaching of philosophy, exhorting anyone whom I meet after my manner, and convincing him, saying: O my friend, why do you who are a citizen of the great and mighty and wise city of Athens, care so much about laying up the greatest amount of money and honor and reputation, and so little about wisdom and truth and the greatest improvement of the soul, which you never regard or heed at all? Are you not ashamed of this?

"And if the person with whom I am arguing says: Yes, but I do care; I do not depart or let him go at once; I interrogate and examine and cross-examine him, and if I think that he has no virtue, but only says that he has, I reproach him with undervaluing the greater, and overvaluing the less. And this I should say to everyone whom I meet, young and old, citizen and alien, but especially to the citizens, inasmuch as they are my brethren. For this is the command of God, as I would have you know; and I believe that to this day no greater good has ever happened in the state than my service to the God.

"For I do nothing but go about persuading you all, old and young alike, not to take thought for your persons and your properties, but first and chiefly to care about the greatest improvement of the soul. I tell you that virtue is not given by money, but that from virtue come money and every other good of man, public as well as private. This is my teaching, and if this is the doctrine which corrupts the youth, my influence is ruinous indeed."

Socrates, and Stoicism, will make no sense whatsoever if we judge them by a power over things, but they make perfect sense if we understand them by a power over oneself. Socrates, and the Stoics, do not need to be rabble-rousers, rulers of men, violent revolutionaries, or captains of industry to find their bliss.

Written in 4/1999

Image: Cesare Dandini,  Personification of Constancy, c. 1634

On Constancy 2

. . . "'Do you philosophers then teach us to despise kings?' I hope not. Who among us teaches to claim against them the power over things which they possess? Take my poor body, take my property, take my reputation, take those who are about me. If I advise any persons to claim these things, they may truly accuse me.

"'Yes, but I intend to command your opinions also.' And who has given you this power? How can you conquer the opinion of another man?

"'By applying terror to it,' he replies, 'I will conquer it.'

"Do you not know that opinion conquers itself, and is not conquered by another? But nothing else can conquer Will except the Will itself. For this reason, too, the law of God is most powerful and most just, which is this: 'Let the stronger always be superior to the weaker.'

"'Ten are stronger than one.' For what? For putting in chains, for killing, for dragging whither they choose, for taking away what a man has. The ten therefore conquer the one in this in which they are stronger. 

'In what then are the ten weaker?' If the one possess right opinions and the others do not.

"'Well then, can the ten conquer in this matter?' How is it possible? If we were placed in the scales, must not the heavier draw down the scale in which it is?" . . .

--Epictetus, Discourses 1.29 (tr Long)

 I am struck by the similarity between the words of Epictetus and the words from the Gospel of Matthew: "given unto Caesar the things that are Caesar's, but give unto God the things that are God's."

The point isn't about hating worldly power or those in authority. It's rather a matter of understanding how the Stoic Turn requires us to reconsider what we think is good or bad, right or wrong, powerful or weak.

I need not resent the giving and taking away of wealth, power, or privilege, because these things aren't mine. Let a leader do with them as he pleases. If he is a good leader, he will make us of these materials to help improve the souls of his subjects. If he is a bad leader, he has lost his own soul.

But surely he is stronger? Distinguish. In the world of externals, might may seem to make right, though even then we are under a heavy illusion if we think we have any true grasp over such things. No one has power over my judgments, however many legions or divisions he may command.

But surely he can rule me through fear? No, I will be the one who rules or succumbs to fear, no one else. Consider that worldly power must come and go, because it is never fully ours, but the power of our judgements can be unwavering, because they are always fully our own. Now which of these is truly stronger and superior?

There is not necessarily strength in numbers. If ten men are strong in wealth and influence, but empty of wisdom and virtue, they are simply ten ignorant men. The one wise man, however little else he may have, is far more powerful than they are. They already defeat themselves, but the wise man cannot be defeated, if only he so chooses.

No, he who dies with the most toys most certainly does not win. 

Written in 4/1999

Image: Cesare Dandini,  Personification of Constancy, c. 1634

Love is not love. . .

Let me not to the marriage of true minds

Admit impediments. Love is not love

Which alters when it alteration finds,

Or bends with the remover to remove.

O no! it is an ever-fixed mark

That looks on tempests and is never shaken;

It is the star to every wandering bark,

Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.

Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks

Within his bending sickle's compass come;

Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,

But bears it out even to the edge of doom.

If this be error and upon me proved,

I never writ, nor no man ever loved.

Shakespeare, Sonnet 116

On Constancy 1

"The being of the Good is a certain Will; the being of the Bad is a certain kind of Will. What then are externals? Materials for the Will, about which the will being conversant shall obtain its own good or evil. How shall it obtain the good? If it does not admire the materials; for the opinions about the materials, if the opinions are right, make the will good: but perverse and distorted opinions make the will bad.

"God has fixed this law, and says, 'If you would have anything good, receive it from yourself.' You say, 'No, but I have it from another.' Do not says so, but receive it from yourself.

"Therefore when the tyrant threatens and calls me, I say, 'Whom do you threaten?' If he says, 'I will put you in chains,' I say, 'You threaten my hands and my feet.' If he says, 'I will cut off your head,' I reply, 'You threaten my head.' If he says, 'I will throw you into prison,' I say, 'You threaten the whole of this poor body.' If he threatens me with banishment, I say the same.

"''Does he, then, not threaten you at all?' If I feel that all these things do not concern me, he does not threaten me at all; but if I fear any of them, it is I whom he threatens. Whom then do I fear? the master of what? The master of things which are in my own power? There is no such master. Do I fear the master of things which are not in my power? And what are these things to me?

--Epictetus, Discourses 1.29 (tr Long)

 The words we employ, wittingly or unwittingly, tell us very much about our values. That we have regularly replaced the language of virtue with the language of success, gratification, and recognition can be an indication that we are straying from the path of Nature. I regularly hear people being praised for their success, their ambition, their popularity, or their sense of humor. I don't recall when I last heard of anyone being praised for his constancy.

Constancy is nothing but being loyal and faithful to ourselves, to our fellows, and to what we know to be right and true, and doing so in the face of burdens and obstacles. It is to be unchanging and enduring through the good and the bad. As with any virtue, it is one thing to speak of it, another thing to practice it. One only has constancy when the actions conform to the words, regardless of the circumstances.

On the day of our wedding, my wife was beaming, except at the moment when we recited our vows, when a look of anxiety came over her face. But I only had to smile at her, and her joy returned. I did not take this as a bad sign, or as a hint that she didn't love me. I'd been through all that before. Quite the contrary, I understood it as an indication that she took those words of absolute commitment seriously, and that was exactly the reason I had asked her to marry me. She was someone who was serious about constancy, because she recognized that her deeds would need to match her words.

How many times have we heard the words "I love you" said without true commitment? "Love is not love which alters when it alteration finds."

When, as Epictetus says, I grasp that my moral good rests in the disposition of my will toward my external circumstances, and that my good is never itself determined only by those externals, I am on my way toward living with constancy.

Whenever I fail at being constant, as I quite often do, it is because I fear the loss of something, and I am terrified of the hurt I am so sure will follow. Conversely, I may be drawn to the promise of some benefit if I will only break my commitment, just this once.

Now the only way to overcome this temptation is to fix my judgment. What is it that I may lose or gain? Property? Reputation? My body itself? These things are externals, beyond my power, and they do not concern what is truly me, that which is within my power. If I understand that my measure of good and evil is mistaken, then I will no longer fear losing or desire to gain such things. 

Written in 4/1999

Image: Cesare Dandini,  Personification of Constancy, c. 1634

Struggling with Circumstances 10

. . . "This was the practice of Socrates: this was the reason why he always had one face. But we choose to practice and study anything rather than the means by which we shall be unimpeded and free.

"You say, 'Philosophers talk paradoxes.' But are there no paradoxes in the other arts? and what is more paradoxical than to puncture a man's eye in order that he may see? If any one said this to a man ignorant of the surgical art, would he not ridicule the speaker? Where is the wonder then if in philosophy also many things which are true appear paradoxical to the inexperienced?"

Epictetus, Discourses 1.25 (tr Long)

I can understand why philosophers, and Socrates in particular, are often seen at the very least as an annoyance, at the very worst as deeply dangerous.

 The true philosopher is not merely an academic. He is a man committed to truth, and he lives accordingly. He understands that the higher goods of the soul are not to be compromised for the lower goods of the body, and this is readily apparent in the consistency between what he says, and what he does. As Epictetus says, Socrates had only one face. He did not preach wisdom and virtue, and then sell out those qualities for convenience and utility.

The true philosopher seems an annoyance because he reminds us that we aren't really all that we say we are. We mouth the words, and are content to act very differently. Few things are more frustrating than being caught out. The blame is on us, of course, though we readily blame the messenger. Note how deeply anti-Stoic we are by dodging our own responsibilities.

The true philosopher also seems dangerous, because his values, and his actions, are not merely inconvenient to our feelings. They can undermine all the false standards and assumptions of the world we live in. Socrates was seen as not only believing in all the wrong things, but as challenging established convention and corrupting the young.

If heterodoxy and iconoclasm involve reminding people that wisdom, temperance, justice, and courage are always better than ignorance, greed, power, and cowardice, then I'd like to know where to sign up as a corrupter.

We may think that those philosophers are too clever for their own good, and that they are full of contradictions. Yet the doctor, knowledgeable in healing the body, seems full of paradoxes to the layman, just as the philosopher, the healer of the soul, seems full of paradoxes to the willfully ignorant.

It is the philosopher, like Socrates, who recognizes that circumstances are hardly burdens. They are opportunities to live with excellence. Yes, they will sometimes hurt, sometimes terribly so, but I need only remember how little a thing I may be giving up for so great a reward. Understand what is right and good, the measure of true happiness and joy, and it all falls into place.

Written in 7/2005

Image: Dorothea Lange, Migrant Mother (1936)

Anti-Stoicism in a Nutshell! ;-)

Struggling with Circumstances 9

. . . "'But I should like to sit where the Senators sit!' Do you see that you are putting yourself in straits, you are squeezing yourself?

" 'How then shall I see well in any other way in the amphitheater?' Man, do not be a spectator at all; and you will not be squeezed. Why do you give yourself trouble? Or wait a little, and when the spectacle is over, seat yourself in the place reserved for the Senators and sun yourself.

"For remember this general truth, that it is we who squeeze ourselves, who put ourselves in straits; that is, our opinions squeeze us and put us in straits. For what is it to be reviled? Stand by a stone and revile it; and what will you gain? If, then, a man listens like a stone, what profit is there to the reviler? But if the reviler has as a stepping-stone on the weakness of him who is reviled, then he accomplishes something.

'Strip him.' What do you mean by 'him'? 'Lay hold of his garment, strip it off. I have insulted you.' Much good may it do you." . . .

Epictetus, Discourses 1.25 (tr Long)

We seem to think that the more we increase our status and position, the more we increase our freedom from lesser things. In fact, we do quite the opposite, because we are squeezing ourselves with all the restrictions of playing the game.

I had just turned ten when Jimmy Carter was giving a speech right down the street from our house. My father decided to take me to see the man in action. We never actually saw anything of him at all, because of the huge crowds of people who became quite pushy and unruly. I recall seeing all the landscaping crushed flat, and hordes of people pushing and squeezing themselves along. It was rather frightening, and I had a quick image of how terrible it might feel to be trampled. We managed to pull ourselves out of the mess, and I recall the freedom and peace of being outside of the herd.

A few years later I saw Ronald Reagan in downtown Boston. He was a tiny little speck on a distant stage, and his words were barely discernible. But what was very discernible were the angry crowds of protestors, and the equally angry counter-protestors. There was yelling, spitting, pushing, grappling and a few swings of fists.

There was no greatness, virtue, or freedom here. Just a mob, and all because we had squeezed ourselves. No one had done this to us.

I have seen all too many fights, verbal and physical, where the participants simply enslave themselves to their passions. Pray tell, has yelling and screaming, pushing and shoving, ever convinced another man to change his thinking or his living? I am expressing only my hatred and anger, and I only then encourage it in return from others.

What happened to walking away? Do I not realize that by being angry, I give another power over me? By wishing to strut and pose in front of others, I have only constrained myself.

You won't particularly hurt me by taking my possessions or my reputation, if those are things I don't really care for. You won't really be insulting me if I don't care for your values. I need not allow anyone or anything to offend me.

We have all seen how the bullies will grab a victim's cap and play a malicious game of keep away. We of course play into the game by jumping around after our things. They won't give them back because we dart around and grab, yelling "give it back!"

In middle school, some older kids surrounded me while I was walking home. They first told me how ugly my jacket was. I had to resists the immediate instinct to say "not as ugly as your mother." I smiled and continued walking. At this point they grabbed my schoolbag.

Now I can have a very mean temper, and it was bubbling. I was tempted to do a full body tackle, even though I was half the size. But I somehow managed to walk on, hopefully not showing my fear. They yelled after me, "hey fag, want your bag back?"

"You can have it if you like it." I somehow managed.

Now that could have gotten me a beating, but what was funny was they they just dropped it and walked away. And even if I'd gotten the beating, I would still have been the better man-child, however weak, awkward, or pathetic I was in their eyes.

What I love determines what helps me or hurts me. If I love the draw of the crowd, I enslave myself to the crowd. The crowd gives, and the crowd takes away. If, on the other hand, I depend on my own judgment and character, I am the only one who can give or take away.

Written in 7/2005

Image: Dorothea Lange, Migrant Mother (1936)

Struggling with Circumstances 8

. . . "How long then must we obey such orders? As long as it is profitable, and this means as long as I maintain that which is becoming and consistent. Further, some men are sour and of bad temper, and they say, 'I cannot sup with this man to be obliged to hear him telling daily how he fought in Mysia: 'I told you, brother, how I ascended the hill: then I began to be besieged again.'

"But another says, 'I prefer to get my supper and to hear him talk as much as he likes.' And do you compare these estimates: only do nothing in a depressed mood, nor as one afflicted, nor as thinking that you are in misery, for no man compels you to that.

"Has it smoked in the chamber? If the smoke is moderate, I will stay; if it is excessive, I go out: for you must always remember this and hold it fast, that the door is open.

"Well, but you say to me, 'Do not live in Nicopolis.' I will not live there. 'Nor in Athens.' I will not live in Athens. 'Nor in Rome.' I will not live in Rome. 'Live in Gyarus.' I will live in Gyarus, but it seems like a great smoke to live in Gyarus; and I depart to the place where no man will hinder me from living, for that dwelling-place is open to all; and as to the last garment, that is the poor body, no one has any power over me beyond this.

"This was the reason why Demetrius said to Nero, 'You threaten me with death, but nature threatens you.' If I set my admiration on the poor body, I have given myself up to be a slave: if on my little possessions, I also make myself a slave: for I immediately make it plain with what I may be caught; as if the snake draws in his head, I tell you to strike that part of him which he guards; and do you be assured that whatever part you choose to guard, that part your master will attack. Remembering this, whom will you still flatter or fear?" . . .

Epictetus, Discourses 1.25 (tr Long)

One learns with time, I think, that the merit of our actions is not merely in what we do, but the judgment and attitude with which we we act. I think of the countless times I have thought myself driven near to exasperation or rage when I have seen arrogance, hypocrisy, greed, or betrayal. And I must only remind myself that I can turn that figurative switch in my own thinking. This is, I might say, not a harm to my soul, but to that of the offender. Now what can I do to make right of this wrong?

Whether it be a mere annoyance or a direct threat, I can, at the very least, practice a simple exercise. I can observe misdeeds, and make note of them, so I might know exactly how not to live myself. That is indeed profitable.

It is even more profitable to use any occasion as an opportunity for making something right, in however small a way. I recently observed an unpopular colleague being gossiped about by other faculty at the other end of the room. It was of the usual sort, laughing openly behind their hands.

So I made a simple effort to just walk to her desk, and speak to her for a few minutes with respect and kindness. This, of course, caused even more daggers to be hurled at us from across the room, but I practiced something I hoped would be helpful for me, for her, and bring cheer to a gloomy situation. Perhaps it could even be an opportunity for the offenders to reconsider their attitudes.

I may find the good in anything and everything, if I simply look and estimate rightly, and I need only recall that I am the one who chooses the measure of my judgment. I am the one who will say yes or no to something, and this is not determined by another.

I have noticed many people who, when confronted with ignorance or injustice, will simply say, "well that's the way the world works. You have to be practical, you know, and you pretty much have to play along."  Now others may indeed work in such a way, but I do not have to. If I value justice and compassion, then it is only up to me if I choose to act in this way. I imagine the only reason I may feel restrained by custom and habit is if I, in fact, still do care more about my body, my possessions, or my influence.

I adore those words by Seneca's friend, Demetrius the Cynic. What are you going to take from me in body, while you do terrible harm to your own soul? There we have the spirit of Socrates, of Diogenes, of all the Stoics, and of the whole tradition of philosophical wisdom.

Written in 7/2005

Image: Dorothea Lange, Migrant Mother (1936)

Misrepresenting Stoicism

I have spent my life teaching the liberal arts, philosophy, history, and literature. I never cease to be amazed by the ignorance, and yes, even sometimes the malice, of my fellows toward Stoicism. I recently found the following quote from an established, tweed-wearing, reactionary Catholic academic:

"Most historians agree that Rome's decline started with the importation of Greek slaves, who brought alien ideas from Greece to Rome."

I have been reading history my whole life, and I've never heard that theory. I know that Gibbon primarily blamed Christianity for the decline of Rome, but to blame the Greeks?

"The Roman fathers gave over their responsibility to their Greek captives, who taught their children a philosophy alien to the Natural Law philosophy of the Romans."

I'm sorry, where do we find any textual evidence that the Romans, a deeply pragmatic, and hardly philosophical people, ever argued for Natural Law? The idea of Natural Law itself is from the Greeks, from the Platonists, the Peripatetics, and the Stoics.

"The natural qualities of modesty, bravery, constancy, prudence, and industry of the Roman home and hearth collapsed under the teachings of the Stoics."

Again, those virtues were clearly defined by the Greeks, while the Romans were still building sand castles. I wonder if the gentleman has ever read a single line from any Stoic philosopher, because these are exactly the virtues that the Stoics proclaim. I have never read of a Stoic proclaiming that a man should be cowardly. disloyal, ignorant, or lazy.

Sir, what have you been reading?

"Moral and intellectual errors set in, and the Roman world started in decline."

As with any and all cultural declines, we can offer many factors. But I do agree with this fellow, that the primary reason for the decline of any society, or the decline of any individual person, is a moral and intellectual one.

Stoicism was always a philosophy that encouraged the Cardinal Virtues, something the Romans adapted, but most certainly did not invent. They learned it precisely from their Greek predecessors. Greek philosophy helped to civilize Rome, and it would be foolhardy to blame the Greeks for the greed and lust for power that destroyed Rome. Vice destroyed Rome, and the Philosophers, those horrible Greeks, warned them about it from day one.

Cicero, Seneca, or Marcus Aurelius are, in my mind, examples of the greatest Romans. They owe much of who they were, and what they did, to the entire tradition of Greek, and of Stoic, philosophy.

Pardon my French, but I call bullshit. We all have our scapegoats. Let's blame the Jews, the Blacks, the Gypsies. I have to laugh, because I'd never heard the claim that those darn Greeks, with their free-thinking philosophy, destroyed Rome.

Rome destroyed itself because of its pride, arrogance, and avarice. The Stoics taught us to avoid those things. I could well claim that Rome fell precisely because it did not follow the teachings of the Stoics.

Written in 02/1998

Stoic Music 10

In light of Epictetus' discussion on the difficulty of circumstances, please consider how a Stoic might approach the pain of loneliness, of rejection, of isolation. I remind myself that not all is lost. The hope is in my own ability and willingness to love.

What a beautiful and haunting song.  The answer is already in the question.

Written in 7/2005

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=68P_kT_2A0c&spfreload=5 

The Smiths, "How Soon is Now?" (1985)

I am the son and the heir
Of a shyness that is criminally vulgar
I am the son and heir
Of nothing in particular

You shut your mouth, how can you say
I go about things the wrong way
I am human and I need to be loved
Just like everybody else does

I am the son and the heir
Of a shyness that is criminally vulgar
I am the son and the heir
Of nothing in particular

You shut your mouth, how can you say
I go about things the wrong way
I am human and I need to be loved
Just like everybody else does

There's a club
If you'd like to go
You could meet somebody
Who really loves you

So you go and you stand on your own
And you leave on your own
And you go home
And you cry and you want to die

When you say it's gonna happen now
Well, when exactly do you mean?
See, I've already waited too long
And all my hope is gone

You shut your mouth, how can you say
I go about things the wrong way
I am human and I need to be loved
Just like everybody else does

Struggling with Circumstances 7

. . . "For as we behave in the matter of hypothetical arguments, so ought we to do in life. 'Suppose it to be night.' I suppose that it is night. 'Well then; is it day?' No, for I admitted the hypothesis that it was night. 'Suppose that you think that it is night?' Suppose that I do. 'But also think that it is actually night.' That is not consistent with the hypothesis.

"So in this case also: 'Suppose that you are unfortunate.' Well, suppose so. 'Are you then unhappy?' Yes. 'Well, then, are you troubled with an unfavorable demon?' Yes. 'But think also that you are actually in misery.' This is not consistent with the hypothesis; and Another forbids me to think so." . .

Epictetus, Discourses 1.25 (tr Long)

For good or for ill, I listened to quite a bit of dark and depressing music in my younger days. I honestly still have a soft spot for various forms of goth, new wave, alternative, and soul-crushing neo-progressive rock. Add to that my love of heart-wrenching Country music and morbid Celtic ballads, and you have a man who knows his grief.

At the tender age of fifteen, I would regularly ponder the immortal words of The Smiths, from the song "How Soon is Now?":

"I am the son and the heir
Of a shyness that is criminally vulgar.
I am the son and heir of nothing in particular.

"You shut your mouth
How can you say I go about things the wrong way?
I am human and I need to be loved
Just like everybody else does.

"There's a club, if you'd like to go
You could meet somebody who really loves you.
So you go and you stand on your own
And you leave on your own
And you go home and you cry and you want to die.

"When you say 'it's gonna happen now'
When exactly do you mean?
See I've already waited too long
And all my hope is gone."

There is a certain emotional satisfaction in bemoaning our fate, and I don't deny it to anyone. We all, I think, need to struggle through that stage, at any age.  

This is exactly what Epictetus addresses.  Could I be be unhappy? Of course. Am I unhappy? That's a different question altogether. The hypothetical and the actual are two very different realms of living.

I can think of thousands of ways my life could be very different. I can imagine a world where I didn't fall for false imaginings, or a world where I didn't take a tight hold on what was real. That I wasted years of my life on vanity could have been changed by not sitting next to someone at a party. That I found honest friendship and companionship could have been changed by a single stroke on a keyboard. 

Yet these are all the 'could-have-beens'. They are not real, but just hypothetical. I worry far too much about the 'what if?' questions. I should worry far more about the 'what is' reality that is before me. 

There all sorts of reasons out there to be miserable. I find that I have little, if not absolutely nothing, in common with the values of those around me. I have walked the streets of many cities, and I see greed, hate, or just plain indifference. I see the clash of ideologies and politics that have nothing to do with my sense of a true human dignity. I see business based upon profit for the few, not for the benefit of the many. I see a professional world more like the strutting of peacocks than the peace of the lambs.

Now I could give up. But none of these things are up to me. Who I am, and how I live, is up to me. 

We'd all like to build bonfires, and call the masses to us. That would make us important. Maybe I'll just light a single match, for but a moment, and cast that little light. 

Nature, and Nature's God, tell me I must live my best as I am. We are sorely mistaken if we think that what 'could have been' is what defines us. 

Let us define ourselves not by what has happened, or even by what is happening. 

Let us define ourselves not by what we could have done, or by what we are now doing. 

Let us define ourselves by what we will choose, in this very next moment, right here and right now, to make our own lives better, and to love our neighbors.

I still love that Smiths song, but I also understand that it isn't about what happens. It isn't about needing love, it's about needing to love.

Written in 7/2005

Image: Dorothea Lange, Migrant Mother (1936)

Struggling with Circumstances 6

. . . "'But give me directions!' Why should I give you directions? Has not Zeus given you directions? Has he not given to you what is your own free from hindrance and free from impediment, and what is not your own subject to hindrance and impediment?

"What directions then, what kind of orders did you bring when you came from him?

"Keep by every means what is your own; do not desire what belongs to others. Fidelity is your own, virtuous shame is your own; who then can take these things from you? who else than you yourself will hinder you from using them?

"But how do you act? when you seek what is not your own, you lose that which is your own. Having such promptings and commands from Zeus, what kind do you still ask from me? Am I more powerful than he, am I more worthy of confidence? But if you observe these, do you want any others besides?

"'Well, but he has not given these orders', you will say. Produce your precognitions, produce the proofs of philosophers, produce what you have often heard, and produce what you have said yourself, produce what you have read, produce what you have meditated on, and you will then see that all these things are from God. How long, then, is it fit to observe these precepts from God, and not to break up the play? As long as the play is continued with propriety.

"In the Saturnalia a king is chosen by lot, for it has been the custom to play at this game. The king commands: 'Do you drink,' 'Do you mix the wine,' 'Do you sing,' 'Do you go,' 'Do you come.' I obey that the game may not be broken up through me.

But if he says, 'Think that you are in evil plight', I answer, 'I do not think so'; and who compels me to think so? Further, we agreed to play Agamemnon and Achilles. He who is appointed to play Agamemnon says to me, 'Go to Achilles and tear from him Briseis.' I go. He says, 'Come,' and I come." . . .

Epictetus, Discourses 1.25 (tr Long)

Why can't there be an owner's manual, complete with step-by-step multilingual instructions? Why is there no IKEA for the happy life? Why must it all seem so cryptic and complex?

I find myself asking such questions only when I am really making excuses. Saying that the answers are unknowable allows me to wallow in skepticism, and saying that the solutions are too confusing allows me to hide away from effort. This, in turn, allows me to live under the illusion of deferring my responsibility for myself.

But the answers are neither cryptic nor complex, and life requires no set of directions any more than Nature itself has already given us. To borrow from the Catholic tradition, the law is already written on the human heart.

If I consider that the perfection of any thing is achieved the what is specific to its own nature, and never simply by what is external to it, and if I at the same time consider that it is the nature of man, as a being of intellect and of will, to know the truth, love the good, and to act according to truth and goodness, then I already have my answer. It isn't unknowable, and it isn't too confusing. Only my past habits are getting in my way.

In the simplest of terms, I must act through what is my own, and not depend upon what is not my own. The reverse is also true. As soon as I depend upon what is not my own, I have surrendered what is my own. Here is the difference between a free man and a slave.

The great tradition of philosophy and literature, from Epictetus to Shakespeare, has often made use of acting in a play as an analogy for life. Most things in our lives, our conditions and circumstances, are given to us, as if by the directions of the playwright or the director. How well I play my part, however, and how well I choose to understand my part, are those things that are within my power.

Written in 7/2005

Image: Dorothea Lange, Migrant Mother (1936)

Struggling with Circumstances 5

"If these things are true, and if we are not silly, and are not acting hypocritically when we say that the good of man is in the will, and the evil too, and that everything else does not concern us, why are we still disturbed, why are we still afraid?

"The things about which we have been busied are in no man's power: and the things which are in the power of others, we care not for. What kind of trouble have we still?" . . .

Epictetus, Discourses 1.25 (tr Long)

Stoic moral principles are hardly complex, though they may sometimes seem very difficult to live. I have discerned two obstacles to my own practice of Stoicism. Sometimes I don't seem to know that they are true, and sometimes I don't seem to even want them to be true. The first comes from a weakness of habit in the mind, the second a weakness of habit in the will.

The Stoics always remind us that we should not hate an evil man, since he is evil through his ignorance of the good. This calls for my compassion and assistance, not my anger. We walk through our lives, engaged in many complex and difficult tasks, but we often simply do not know why we are doing them. How many of us have dedicated the time and effort needed to answering the question of who we are? What is our human nature? How is it fulfilled? If we do not know this, we ultimately cannot act well.

My knowledge and action may also be hindered by a weakness in my commitment. I may, in part and only vaguely, understand the theory of Stoic ethics, but I am still dragged down by the old habits I have become so comfortable with. The love of money, of fame, of power, of pleasure still weighs on me. It is what most everyone around me loves, and it what I have been told, time and time again, that I must strive for. It is no wonder that my choices are weakened by such a burden. I still choose poorly because I might be afraid of what is unfamiliar, unpopular, or deeply challenging to everything I have known before.

The troubles will only pass when we transform our awareness of Nature from theory into practice, from the hypothetical to the actual, from a hazy comprehension to the fullness of living. We need not be afraid of the true good, because once we embrace it, we have freed ourselves from all the grief and pain of depending upon what is outside of our power. This way lies happiness.

Written in 7/2005

Image: Dorothea Lange, Migrant Mother (1936)

How NOT to do it!

Struggling with Circumstances 4

. . . "'But a certain person will not leave to me the succession to his estate!'

"What then? had I forgotten that not one of these things was mine? How then do we call them mine, just as we call the bed in the inn? If, then, the innkeeper at his death leaves you the beds, all is well: but if he leaves them to another, he will have them, and you will seek another bed. If then you shall not find one, you will sleep on the ground: only sleep with a good will and snore, and remember that tragedies have their place among the rich and kings and tyrants, but no poor man fills a part in the tragedy, except as one of the chorus.

"Kings indeed commence with prosperity: 'ornament the palaces with garlands,' then about the third or fourth act they call out, 'O Cithaeron, why did you receive me?'

Slave, where are the crowns, where the diadem? The guards help you not at all. When then you approach any of these persons, remember this that you are approaching a tragedian, not the actor but Oedipus himself.

"But you say, 'Such a man is happy; for he walks about with many,' and I also place myself with the many and walk about with many. In sum remember this: the door is open; be not more timid than little children, but as they say, when the thing does not please them, 'I will play no longer,' so do you, when things seem to you of such a kind, say I will no longer play, and begone: but if you stay, do not complain."

Epictetus, Discourses 1.24 (tr Long)

I am saddened by the number of times I have seen families, rich, poor, and anywhere in between, destroying themselves over inheritance. I attended a funeral for an older man I had befriended through work, and I was one of only a half dozen people there. None of his children, or their families, attended, because they were all in dispute over some property he owned. They had only visited him a handful of times during his extended hospice care to ask him to sign legal papers.

I hardly know if I helped that man in any way while he was still alive, but I made a point of going to see him weekly, so that he might see that not all people wanted only power and possessions, and not all people are ready to dispose of others. His family hardly seemed like malicious people, but they simply could not see beyond that inheritance. My understanding is that, a few years later, the brothers and sisters ignore one another around town, a behavior I have found typical of people who have put a balance sheet in place of their hearts.

How much happier I can be when I expect to own nothing but myself, and I expect no inheritance from anyone. As Epictetus says, all the terrible tragedies are self-imposed, for we want things that are not ours, and tie ourselves up in knots with their pursuit.

If I choose to play the game as other play it, I will find myself quickly pulled under. A small compromise here, an injustice overlooked there, and before I know it I have sold what I truly value, wisdom, character, love, and friendship, for the sake of kingdoms and crowns.

Or, as Epictetus says, I can choose not to play. I can take my toys, go home, and play with my real friends. But I cannot be angry when I stick around and reap exactly what I myself have sowed.

I need to be very careful when I think that grasping people are happy people. I imagine most every Greek tragedy was written to show how they are, in the end, the most miserable people. Was Oedipus happy, when he still lived in power, pride, and ignorance? I can still walk about with many, but I need not try to make them my puppets, or to make them heed me. I can simply be myself, and not worry about the rat race. 

Written in 7/2005

Image: Dorothea Lange, Migrant Mother (1936)

Struggling with Circumstances 3

. . . "What then shall I do? What do you do when you leave a ship? Do you take away the helm or the oars? What then do you take away? You take what is your own, your bottle and your wallet; and now if you think of what is your own, you will never claim what belongs to others.

"The emperor says, 'Lay aside your laticlave.' See, I put on the angusticlave. 'Lay aside this also.' See, I have only my toga. 'Lay aside your toga.' See, I am naked. 'But you still raise my envy.' Take then all my poor body. When, at a man's command, I can throw away my poor body, do I still fear him?". . .

Epictetus, Discourses 1.24 (tr Long)

Consider all the things we mistakenly think are ours, and then how fully we allow our lives to depend upon such false possessions. If we understand what truly belongs to us, and what can never be taken away, we will never suffer the frustration and loss of being swayed and swept by fortune.

One of the few times I felt that my attempts at teaching made any practical difference to people was not in a formal classroom at all, but when I had been asked to lead a self-help group. Reading our text together led to one person after another worried about how fragile and unstable the circumstances of our lives were.

Now this could have gone very poorly, very quickly, if we had either just complained until we were drowning in our tears, or if we had brushed off the concerns with some clever saying about "not worrying", or "letting go and letting God." Neither dwelling on the wrong, or offering quick solutions without explanations, was going to cut it. We managed a middle path.

First, what are these things I consider to be mine, but are not really mine at all, because my 'possession' of them does not really depend upon me?

The very things that seem to bring me grief are precisely the things that aren't mine to begin with. I make myself miserable by relying upon them, and treating them as if I owned them and deserved them. These include my wealth, my influence, my reputation, my position.

Consider all these fancy titles and badges of honor, like the clothing Epictetus speaks of. The world gives them to us, and the world takes them away.

Even my body and its health are hardly mine to control. My very name was given  to me by others, my identity is wrapped up into the conditions I was born into, and my career, however humble or noble, is a social construct. None of these things are me.

One of my favorite episodes of one of my favorite shows, Babylon 5, titled "Come the Inquisitor" had a dark and mysterious stranger interrogate our characters about only one question: "Who are you?" He finds the usual responses wanting.

"Unacceptable! What a sad thing you are! Unable to answer even such a simple question without falling back on references, and genealogies and what other people call you. Have you nothing of your own? Nothing to stand on that is not provided, defined, delineated, stamped, sanctioned, numbered, and approved by others? How can you expected to fight for someone else when you haven't the fairest idea who you are?"

The clever reference to Patrick McGoohan's The Prisoner was not lost on me.

"I will not make any deals with you. I've resigned. I will not be pushed, filed, stamped, indexed, briefed, debriefed, or numbered! My life is my own!"

I can almost feel a "Stoicism and Popular Art" essay coming on. . .

So our group has now exhausted all the things we usually rely on, and there's an awkward silence. After I've removed all the externals, what is left? It would seem even my life is on lease.

"Yes, but no one can judge for me, decide for, act for me, love for me. That's what's mine."  Those words came from our youngest, and perhaps most troubled, participant.

If I don't claim ownership of the things that aren't mine, I won't resent losing them, and if I rely on what can never be taken from me, I can always find peace. The trappings don't matter.

I need not worry what the world thinks or says of me. The praise is often worse than the rejection. Peel back all the glory, the achievement, step out from the rank and file of those who seek fame and attention. Sebastian, the dark and mysterious stranger in "Come the Inquisitor", says it this way:

"How do you know the chosen ones? No greater love hath a man than he lay down his life for his brother. Not for millions. . . not for glory, not for fame. For one person. . . in the dark. . . where no one will ever know. . . or see."

Making that kind of commitment is entirely within my possession.

Written in 7/2005

Image: Dorothea Lange, Migrant Mother (1936)