Some Stoic resources, however meager. . .

Over on the sidebar for the Stoic Breviary blog, you will find a list of twenty or so texts that might be of use for some. These aren't Liam Milburn ramblings, but the original writings that inspired them.

Always best to go straight to the source.

Now these are mainly old editions, all in the public domain, and the formatting and editing are hardly ideal, sometimes even atrocious. They are, however, at the very least, a resource to begin with.

Included are works by Cicero, Seneca, Musonius Rufus, Epictetus, Marcus Aurelius, Boethius, Justus Lipsius, and some talks given by Stockdale.

More texts, either directly Stoic or indirectly related to Stoicism, will be added as time permits.

Not all of us have a fancy library where we can look things up, and Stoicism should never be a fancy philosophy. We don't necessarily need to be in with the latest scholarship to think and live like real Stoics.

Endure and persist. . .

Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 5.8

Just as we must understand when it is said, that Asclepius prescribed to this man horse-exercise, or bathing in cold water, or going without shoes, so we must understand it when it is said, that the nature of the Universe prescribed to this man disease, or mutilation, or loss or anything else of the kind.

For in the first case prescribed means something like this: he prescribed this for this man as a thing adapted to procure health. And in the second case it means: That which happens to every man is fixed in a manner for him suitably to his destiny.

For this is what we mean when we say that things are suitable to us, as the workmen say of squared stones in walls or the pyramids, that they are suitable, when they fit them to one another in some kind of connection. For there is altogether one fitness, one harmony.

And as the Universe is made up out of all bodies to be such a body as it is, so out of all existing causes necessity is made up to be such a cause as it is. And even those who are completely ignorant understand what I mean, for they say, destiny brought this to such a person. This then was brought and this was prescribed to him. Let us then receive these things, as well as those that Asclepius prescribes.

Many, as a matter of course, among even his prescriptions are disagreeable, but we accept them in the hope of health. Let the perfecting and accomplishment of the things, which the common Nature judges to be good, be judged by you to be of the same kind as your health. And so accept everything that happens, even if it seems disagreeable, because it leads to this, to the health of the Universe and to the prosperity and felicity of Zeus.

For he would not have brought on any man what he has brought, if it were not useful for the whole. Neither does the nature of anything, whatever it may be, cause anything that is not suitable to that which is directed by it.

For two reasons then it is right to be content with that which happens to you. The one, because it was done for you and prescribed for you, and in a manner had reference to you, originally from the most ancient causes spun with your destiny. The other, because even that which comes severally to every man is to the power which administers the Universe a cause of felicity and perfection, even of its very continuance.

For the integrity of the whole is mutilated, if you cut off anything whatever from the conjunction and the continuity either of the parts or of the causes. And you do cut off, as far as it is in your power, when you art dissatisfied, and in a manner try to put anything out of the way.

—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, Book 5 (tr Long)

This passage from Marcus Aurelius was for me, quite literally, a lifesaver. I happened upon it at a time when I was in such pain that I could not make it through the day without collapsing into uncontrollable sobbing. People try to tell us that it will get better, and that it will all end up for the best. They surely mean well, but that is of little comfort when the suffering is crippling. But instead of just patting me on the back and tossing out a phrase that tells me my situation will change, Marcus Aurelius explains himself. He tells me why whatever happens always happens for a reason, and always happens because it is good both for me and for the whole world.

It isn’t even about wanting to change the situation, but understanding that any situation can always be a source of benefit, if it is only understood and applied rightly.

In the words of Ovid:

Endure and persist; this pain will one day do good for you.

The passage helped me to apply the Stoic Turn in a profound way, and reading it suddenly and unexpectedly gave me a whole new perspective. It didn’t make the pain cease, but it gave me the means to find purpose within it. That moment wasn’t, of course, the end of the story, even as it was the beginning of the story.

It all revolves around the central Stoic principle that we are not measured by our circumstances, however extreme they may be. We are measured by our own thoughts, choices, and actions about those circumstances. Instead of dwelling on what was coming at me from outside, I could rather ask how what came at me from outside could be transformed into something different on the inside. My task wasn’t merely to suffer; my task was to discover how to find benefit for myself through that suffering.

If I came to recognize that the only thing that was unconditionally good for me was my character, then I could ask myself how the things that were happening could help to build that character, and in turn give me peace and joy. There were many things I hated about the world, and many more things that I hated about myself, but the only thing I ever found of value within myself was my ability, however meager, to love. And it dawned on me that whatever love was within now me had only been nurtured through my grief. If pain had not broken my cynicism and disdain, my heart would still have been smothered and neglected.

The very quality I treasured within me had come about from suffering. What seemed so bad had been so good all along. I had, without even fully understanding it at the time, made something worthwhile out of something painful.

This was true for me, and also for everything around me. Once I began to understand that the world is not a series of random and unconnected events, I also began to understand that every cause and every effect, and every part within the whole, is precisely where it is meant to be. Everything plays its own distinct role, the good within each thing serving the good of all things.

I had to smile when I put the book down, because I realized I hadn’t even happened upon the passage at all. I had been meant to read it from long before I was even born. It was another small step in finding the path I needed to follow for myself.

When Asclepius, the god of medicine, or just my neighborhood doctor, prescribes a cure, it isn’t always going to be pleasant. Sometimes it will seem worse than the disease. But the doctor prescribes medicine to help us become healthy, just as Providence prescribes our circumstances to help us become better, wiser, and happier. 

Written in 3/2006

Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 5.7

A prayer of the Athenians: Rain, rain, O dear Zeus, down on the ploughed fields of the Athenians and on the plains.

In truth we ought not to pray at all, or we ought to pray in this simple and noble fashion.

—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, Book 5 (tr Long)

I am always hesitant to discuss prayer, or religion, precisely because it is both so powerful and so personal. Stoicism, however, is very much a “big tent” philosophy, and Stoic thinking can be of great assistance in however we may choose to understand God.

Prayer, in the broadest sense our communication with the Divine, can surely be a profound means of relating ourselves to what is absolute, but it can also be fraught with danger. Prayer can be a humble expression of praise, thanksgiving, or supplication. It can also too easily become twisted into a form of showmanship, vanity, or bargaining.

How easy it is to turn prayer into a spectacle. I know something has gone wrong when a prayer becomes a performance, something made public instead of private, a way to excite the passions and manipulate the thinking of others.

How easy it is to turn prayer into a worship of the self. I know something has gone wrong when a prayer is suddenly about man dwelling on his own importance, about making himself seem big, instead of making himself a part of what is bigger.

How easy it is to turn prayer into a means for getting what I desire. I know something has gone wrong when a prayer is an arrogant attempt to make things exist only for our gratification, and no longer a respect for Providence.

I have always kept in mind the insight that prayer isn’t something that is supposed to change God, but rather something that is supposed to change the way I relate myself to God. From a Stoic perspective, it is never within my power to determine Providence, even as it is within my power to freely participate with Providence.

Don’t give me what I think I want. Give me what You know I need. A prayer is not something to which I should add my own conditions, as if I was negotiating a sale. There’s a good reason I was taught as a child to pray with only four simple words: “Thy will be done.”

I think of all the people I have known who have turned their prayer into a mockery, and I think of all the times I have come far too close to doing the same myself. I once knew someone for whom God suddenly appeared after she had already decided something; it was quite amazing how He would miraculously communicate His agreement with her. 

I once knew someone else whose prayers always seemed to be a way to degrade anyone he disagreed with, and for whom religion was nothing more than an expression of an ideology for the privileged, a war between “us” and “them”. “Do it may way” and “slay my enemies” are hardly dignified prayers.

If I do choose to pray, my prayer should be simple and noble, and never designed to impress others, glorify myself, or make demands of anyone or anything. As Marcus Aurelius says, I should limit myself to being open to receive, and to be grateful for, what Nature has to give.

Written in 3/2006

Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 5.4

I go through the things which happen according to Nature until I shall fall and rest, breathing out my breath into that element out of which I daily draw it in, and falling upon that earth out of which my father collected the seed, and my mother the blood, and my nurse the milk. Out of which during so many years I have been supplied with food and drink, which bears me when I tread on it and abuse it for so many purposes.

—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, Book 5 (tr Long)

When I seek to live according to Nature, I need to remember that this is not merely a romantic notion, or a noble abstraction, or an intellectual luxury, or some pleasant diversion from the business of the day. It is the very business of the day, the stuff itself out of which I am made, to which I am connected, and to which I will return. To embrace Nature, as it is understood by the Stoic, is never to turn away from everyday living, but to finally embrace the fullness of everyday living.

As much as our human endeavors often seem to mask it, everything that we are is inseparable from the order of Nature, and even our most impressive artificial posturing would be nothing separately of that harmony. The part has no meaning without the whole.

I often notice how strong and independent we think we are, and though we might be quite adept at this in our time of high technology and social engineering, this was surely true for the Rome of Marcus Aurelius as well. We eat, drink, breathe, and consume or manipulate all sorts of the things around us, quite oblivious to all the deeper relations between them. We pursue our careers and the improvement of our position in life, quite oblivious to our very human purpose, and the depth of our bond with other persons.

I think it is no accident that the same man who pays no attention to the air he breathes is quite often the same man who pays no attention to the dignity of his neighbor. He pollutes the one with his waste, and pollutes the other with his greed.

The tools of power and vanity only give the illusion of independence. We are just as bound to everything and everyone else as we have always been. It is fortunate that Nature is patient with our tantrums and abuses.

The tension of this passage by Marcus Aurelius, between being necessarily joined to the unity of all things on the one hand, and my stubborn insistence on breaking myself away from that unity on the other, or between being in Nature and yet stepping on it, brings to mind my favorite poem, which I never miss the opportunity to share:

“God’s Grandeur”

Gerard Manley Hopkins

The world is charged with the grandeur of God.

It will flame out, like shining from shook foil;

It gathers to a greatness, like the ooze of oil

Crushed. Why do men then now not reck his rod?

Generations have trod, have trod, have trod;

And all is seared with trade; bleared, smeared with toil;

And wears man’s smudge and shares man’s smell: the soil

Is bare now, nor can foot feel, being shod.

And for all this, nature is never spent;

There lives the dearest freshness deep down things;

And though the last lights off the black West went

Oh, morning, at the brown brink eastward, springs—

Because the Holy Ghost over the bent

World broods with warm breast and with ah! bright wings. 

Written in 3/2006

Image: Peter Paul Rubens, Farm at Laken (c. 1618)

Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 5.6

One man, when he has done a service to another, is ready to set it down to his account as a favor conferred.

Another is not ready to do this, but still in his own mind he thinks of the man as his debtor, and he knows what he has done.

A third in a manner does not even know what he has done, but he is like a vine that has produced grapes, and seeks for nothing more after it has once produced its proper fruit.

As a horse when he has run, a dog when he has tracked the game, a bee when it has made the honey, so a man when he has done a good act, does not call out for others to come and see, but he goes on to another act, as a vine goes on to produce again the grapes in season.

Must a man then be one of these, who in a manner act thus without observing it? Yes, but this very thing is necessary, the observation of what a man is doing. For, it may be said, it is characteristic of the social animal to perceive that he is working in a social manner, and indeed to wish that his social partner also should perceive it.

It is true what you say, but you do not rightly understand what is now said. And for this reason you will become one of those of whom I spoke before, for even they are misled by a certain show of reason. But if you will choose to understand the meaning of what is said, do not fear that for this reason you will omit any social act.

—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, Book 5 (tr Long)

The good or bad within my actions will come not only from what I do, but also from the disposition with which I do it. Merit is not only in the deed, but also in its relationship to the doer.

Some people will expect payment for an act of kindness, which, of course, ceases to make it a kindness. It is actually a transaction. I should be able to recognize such people immediately, because they will always attach conditions to the giving of their gifts, which now makes them investments, and terms for their promises, which now makes them contracts.

When the good of another becomes a means for my own profit, this is no longer really a good deed.

Other people may not demand any external compensation in return, so I may more readily think of this as an expression of sincerity. I should not so quickly deceive myself. They are also seeking something else in return, an internal sense of thinking well of themselves, of self-praise, of importance and superiority, It is what my great-grandmother used to call “lording it over” someone.

When the goal is gratification instead of service, this still isn’t really a good deed.

There are people, however, for whom the goodness of the act is itself its own purpose, where action and intention are in complete convergence. They do what they should do, because it fulfills their very nature, and is for the benefit of all of Nature. I can recognize such people because they do not need recognition. They are content to simply produce good and abundant fruit.

When the deed is rightly done, nothing more is required. One gladly moves forward to the next opportunity to be of service.

Marcus Aurelius offers a qualification here, however, so that we do not misunderstand. The horse will run, the dog will hunt, and the vine will produce fruit from instinct, with no conscious reflection on those actions. They do not know what they are doing in the same way that human beings do, and they are simply moved to do so. Human nature, however, adds the power of reason into the mix.

I should certainly do well for only its own sake, seeking no further reward or gratification. Yet this does not mean that I should not be aware of what I do and why I do it, or that others should not be aware of what I do and why I do it. The good sought for itself does not exclude a perception of that good, as is so fitting and necessary for all human action.

Simply put, because I should never do good only so that it can be observed, does not mean I and others should not observe that I am doing good. Humility is not the same thing as ignorance, and while a man should always be humble, he should never be ignorant.

Be like the vine that produces good fruit without expecting anything in return, but be more than the vine in perceiving how and why it is good fruit.

Written in 3/2006

Stoicism and Stockdale for Memorial Day

It is perhaps appropriate on Memorial Day to offer two short talks given by Admiral James B. Stockdale, on how Stoicism related to his experiences in the military. They are well worth the read.

The Stoic Warrior's Triad:

https://www.usna.edu/Ethics/_files/documents/stoicism1.pdf

Master of My Fate:

https://www.usna.edu/Ethics/_files/documents/Stoicism2.pdf

There are also copies to read on stoicbrevairy.blogspot.com

Image: James B. Stockdale was a POW in North Vietnam, from 1965-1973

The Scout Law

As a reference for Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 5.5:

These are a set of postcards from 1913, presenting the Scout Law. Though the style may seem corny to some of us these days, the content is timeless. It still works for me as a reminder of everyday virtues:

A Scout is trustworthy, loyal, helpful, friendly, courteous, kind, obedient, cheerful, thrifty, brave, clean, and reverent.

Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 5.5

You say men cannot admire the sharpness of your wits. So be it, but there are many other things of which you cannot say, that you are not formed for them by Nature.

Show those qualities, then, that are altogether in your power: sincerity, gravity, endurance of labor, aversion to pleasure, contentment with your portion and with few things, benevolence, frankness, no love of superfluity, freedom from trifling magnanimity.

Do you not see how many qualities you are immediately able to exhibit, in which there is no excuse of natural incapacity and unfitness, and yet you still remain voluntarily below the mark?

Or are you compelled through being defectively furnished by Nature to murmur, and to be stingy, and to flatter, and to find fault with your poor body, and to try to please men, and to make great display, and to be so restless in thy mind?

No, by the gods, but you might have been delivered from these things long ago. Only if in truth you can be charged with being rather slow and dull of comprehension, you must exert yourself about this also, not neglecting it nor yet taking pleasure in your dullness.

—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, Book 5 (tr Long)

I noticed from very early on, from as soon as they decided to send me to school, that I was never really thought of as smart, funny, charming, confident, creative, or handsome. I also learned very quickly that these were the very qualities we are expected to admire in others. We tend to choose our friends, our lovers, and our colleagues by precisely those measures. We also believe we will become successful, popular, and rich precisely because we possess such things.

In hindsight, I maintained a remarkable sense of optimism during those years. When I realized that emulating such characteristics wasn’t in the cards, I did my best to work with being myself, and hoping that this could make up for the absence of all the rest. There were a few times when it worked, but far too many times it didn’t, and at one point the imbalance simply broke me inside.

Then, as so many will sadly do, I started to complain, to become angry, and to feel sorry for myself. I would put everything I had within me into an endeavor, and I would find it completely rejected or ignored. I would become frustrated when those who were successful, precisely because of their natural gifts, would be dismissive of the fact that I wasn’t just like them.

My mistake was threefold. First, I did not understand what true success even was. Second, I did not understand what qualities were actually necessary to achieve true success. Third, I did not understand that those qualities were hardly beyond my power. That was why I was discontent and despondent.

Success is not what I may receive from my efforts, but what I may give from my efforts.

Of all the qualities I may possess, the only one necessary for true success is virtue.

Virtue is always something I can do for myself, regardless of whatever circumstances or gifts I may or may not have.

Let’s say I’m not terribly clever, or outgoing, or good-looking. I can gladly accept what I may have, and work to improve it to the best that it can be. Is my mind slow? Am I socially awkward? Do I look hideous to others? There are certainly things I can do to make those things better, in however small a way.

The danger facing me is neglecting what is given entirely, or just sitting back and feeling miserable about it.

Even then, these qualities aren’t the essential ones, and what other people think about them is neither here nor there. There is no need to buy any more options or accessories. Everything life needs come standard.

Can I be thoughtful, loving, and grateful in all of my dealings? It takes nothing special to do these things. Put the proverbial dunce cap on my head, and I can still do them.

I will only choose to be ignorant, hateful, and demanding when I am dissatisfied with who I might be, and I expect to receive whatever I feel jealous about in others.

When I was in the Boy Scouts, I had one of the most wonderful Scoutmasters there could ever be. I once told him that I felt inferior, because I couldn’t always do the things the other Scouts, who were physically stronger and emotionally more confident, could manage to do. He gave me one of the kindest looks I’ve seen, not one of condescension, but one of complete understanding.

“Not everyone can do everything,” he said, “but anyone can do anything that matters. Can you recite the Scout Law for me?”

That I could. “A Scout is trustworthy, loyal, helpful, friendly, courteous, kind, obedient, cheerful, thrifty, brave, clean, and reverent.”

“Can you do those things?”

I hesitated. “I think so?”

“No, can you do them? Yes or no?”

“Yes.”

“Will you do them? Yes or no? I don’t care how far you can swim, or how good you are at math, or how many matches it takes for you to light a fire.”

“Yes.”

“Then you’re a Scout, and one of the best. The rest is just window dressing.” I still use that phrase to this day, thanks to him.

Not everyone has the tools to be a big man, but everyone has the tools to be a good man. Am I smart, funny, charming, confident, creative, or handsome? Not really. Am I simply decent? Only I can decide that. 

Written in 3/2006

 

Boethius, The Consolation 1.24

“When the sign of the crab scorches the field,

fraught with the sun's most grievous rays,

the husbandman,

who has freely entrusted his seed to the fruitless furrow,

is cheated by the faithless harvest goddess,

and he must turn to the oak tree's fruit.

When the field is scarred by the bleak north winds,

would you seek the wood's dark carpet to gather violets?

If you enjoy the grapes,

would you seek with clutching hand

to prune the vines in spring?

It is in autumn Bacchus brings his gifts.

Thus God marks out the times,

and fits to them peculiar works.

He has set out a course of change,

and lets no confusion come.

If anything turns itself to headlong ways,

and leaves its sure design,

there will be an ill outcome.”

—from Book 1, Poem 6

I have wasted so much of my time, thinking that is just about me, me, and more of me. Someone once said to me that the secret to life was simply taking every opportunity to get what I wanted. I needed to be strong, I was told, and to grab onto what I thought was rightly mine. No hesitation, no doubts. To the victor go the spoils.

Let’s call this what it really is. It’s called playing God.

Whenever I expect the world to go my way, I am doing nothing less than that. Whenever I force myself upon others, or assume that the ends justify the means, or cheat and lie to have my way, I am making myself the center.

The crucial difference is that the ideal of God, the Absolute, however we may understand Him, is Himself a measure of perfection. I, on the other hand, am hardly perfect. I am a creature, not the Creator. Whenever I demand that it go my way, I am forgetting that my own way is only a part of the way of all things joined together, ruled by one order. I am not the fullness of that order.

“I take every opportunity to get what I want.” Well, I may wish to take every opportunity, but does this extend to acting selfishly or thoughtlessly? And what is it even that I should rightly want?

Nature will follow her own course, however much I may fight or protest. Images of farming, and of living off of the land, are lost to most of us, because most of us in the developed world live in a completely artificial bubble. What we make or produce no longer reflects the way of the land, or the changes of the seasons, or the harmony of the natural world.

We pursue our vanities, and then use the spoils of those vanities to buy artificial products from others, tailored for our consumption. We become lawyers, or bankers, or fancy scholars, and then expect to be magically clothed, housed, and fed. We care little about where any of it came from, or how it was provided, as long as it’s all perfectly convenient.

A mentor of mine once put me in my place by telling me that I needed to try and grow my own fruits and vegetables, and to raise my own chickens to get some decent eggs. This could be as much about building character as it was about putting food on the table. He also suggested hunting for small game, but immediately added that this might be too much for my spoiled character. Goats, let alone cattle, he said, were way beyond my ability for the moment.

I was deeply offended, though he was completely right. Nature will give me what I may need, but only if I understand how, where, and when to find it and make good use of it.

I should not want to be served by Nature, but to find my way to rightly follow Nature. There will be an ill outcome as soon as I think otherwise. Everything has its own time and place.

What is true of the harvest, is also true of the moral life. Summer won’t be spring, and winter won’t be fall, based upon my whims. How things will happen is how they are meant to be. How I humbly relate myself to what happens is who I am meant to be.

Written in 7/2015

Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 5.3

Judge every word and deed that are according to Nature to be fit for you; and do not be diverted by the blame which follows from any people, nor by their words, but if a thing is good to be done or said, do not consider it unworthy of you.

For those persons have their peculiar leading principle and follow their peculiar movement. Do not regard these things, but go straight on, following your own nature and the common Nature; and the way of both is one.

—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, Book 5 (tr Long)

What will people think, and what will people say? It is one of those odd habits of human behavior to take the very thing that defines us, our own thinking and action, and then immediately allow that to be ruled by the thinking and actions of others.

It is something like reducing life to a game of Simon Says, or like a reflection of the never-ending cycle of new fashions in clothing, music, or politics. Look around at everyone else, and follow suit.

The Stoic will never tell you not to listen to others, or not to seek wisdom and guidance, or not to look to a good example, but he will insist that you do your own thinking and choosing for yourself. We are all tasked with finding our own place and playing our own part in the order of Nature, not to find another’s place or play another’s part.

If I can, with a conscience that is both humble and confident, know what must be done to live well, then that is what I should do. I should not be looking at what happens to be popular, what will bring me anything external, and what will simply improve my circumstances.

Am I seeking virtue above all else? That will do. Starting with a sincere effort to practice the Cardinal Virtues, in the most ordinary and everyday of situations, is as good a place as any. That is what will improve my nature, and therefore be in harmony with Nature as a whole.

We often struggle with what we think is a false opposition between ourselves and other things. We assume there must be the presence of conflict, that my way and your way will necessarily disagree, or that cooperation or compromise is settling for second best.

But this does not need to be so. I can rest assured that if I do what is right for myself, living simply as a human being, then I will never need to do any harm to anyone or anything else.

My own true benefit is always within the benefit of my neighbor, because he is a social animal like myself. My own true benefit is always within the benefit of the entire Universe, because I am a small but integral part of it. They are always one and the same, even when I refuse to see it. Their ways will always converge, even when it is not immediately apparent.

People may pursue values and goals we discern as contrary to Nature, but even such a use of choice by others, however it may frustrate or sadden us, also serves Nature. If nothing else, I may use it to commit myself to what is good all the more.

Providence has a wonderful way of making right from wrong, of turning obstacles into opportunities.

Written in 3/2006

Image: Paul Signac, In the Time of Harmony (c. 1895)

Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 5.2

How easy it is to repel and to wipe away every impression that is troublesome or unsuitable, and immediately to be in all tranquility.

—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, Book 5 (tr Long)

I often become stubborn when someone tells me that something important is really quite easy, especially when I have found the exact same thing to be extremely difficult in my own efforts. Dwelling upon anger will never lead to good things.

“Perhaps it is easy for you, since you are so much better. But for the rest of us peasants, it’s no walk in the park!”

As always, it is my own ignorance that is getting in the way, my unwillingness to think the problem through clearly. It doesn’t matter at all, for my purposes, what motive someone else may have had in mind when he told it was easy. He may indeed have been bragging about himself, or as I suspect is the case for Marcus Aurelius, he may well have been trying to be helpful.

Troublesome impressions, whether they are immediate feelings, haunting memories of the past, or worries about the future, are, in and of themselves, completely powerless over my ability to judge them. They are simply something given, feelings made present to my awareness. They only achieve any power when I offer them value in my estimations, and when I allow them to influence my sense of true and false, good and bad. Then they affect my actions.

A child may fear the impression of a monster under the bed, a young man may fear the impression of being unloved, and an old man may fear the impression of failure. If he only chooses to remove these objects from his attention, because he fully understands that none of them are important for his living, they will no longer trouble him.

I am not troubled, for example, by the impression of seeing people wearing bright colors or muted colors, or of being tall or short, since those qualities have nothing to do with their merits. They do not enter into my thinking as being relevant. It is therefore easy to disregard them.

Now why does it still seem so difficult to remove other sorts of impressions? The recollection of that betrayal? Being bullied by important folks? The temptation of a fifth of bourbon when I feel hopeless?

It isn’t removing the impression that’s the problem at all, as I can always look the other way. No, the difficulty is in still wanting to pay attention. I should never blame the feeling, but I should take responsibility for what I do with it. I still desire it, from previous habit, because I haven’t yet chosen to not desire it. Once the commitment is made, wiping away the impression is indeed easy, but before the commitment is made, wiping away the impression is nigh impossible. I still want it to be there, after all!

The feeling isn’t the obstacle. My thinking is the obstacle. And who really controls that? I’ve usually been attacking it from the wrong end.

Written in 3/2006

Boethius, The Consolation 1.23

. . . “Wherefore it is your looks, rather than the aspect of this place that disturb me. It is not the walls of your library, decked with ivory and glass, that I need, but rather the resting place in your heart, wherein I have not stored books, but I have of old put that which gives value to books, a store of thoughts from books of mine.

“As to your services to the common good, you have spoken truly, though but scantily, if you consider your manifold exertions. Of all that you have been charged with, either truthfully or falsely, you have but recorded what is well known.

“As for the crimes and wicked lies of the informers, you have rightly thought fit to touch but shortly on them, for they are better and more fruitfully made common in the mouth of the crowd that discusses all matters.

“You have loudly and strongly upbraided the unjust ingratitude of the Senate.

“You have grieved over the charges made against myself, and shed tears over the insult to my fair fame.

“Your last outburst of wrath was against Fortune, when you complained that she paid no fair rewards according to deserts.

“Finally, you have prayed with the passionate Muse that the same peace and order, that are seen in the heavens, might also rule the earth.

“But you are overwhelmed by this variety of mutinous passions: grief, rage, and gloom tear your mind asunder, and so in this present mood stronger measures cannot yet come nigh to heal you.

 “Let us, therefore, use gentler means, and since, just as matter in the body hardens into a swelling, so have these disquieting influences. Let these means soften by kindly handling the unhealthy spot, until it will bear a sharper remedy.”

—from Book 1, Prose 5

Boethius is terribly concerned about where he is, and not who he is. He thinks he has been exiled from something by forces beyond his control, but he has only exiled himself from the blessings of thinking and living for himself. He is still sitting in his own library, though under house arrest. It seems to be quite a fancy library, at that. All those books, the ones he has so cherished, still surround him, even as they are offering him no real comfort.

I remember how often I faced the sort of loss and despair I thought I could never overcome, and I thrashed about, cried, or just wanted to crawl into a hole. The books they always told me would make my life better were right within my reach. I didn’t reach for those books, since it is never about the printed page itself. Writing and speech are the medium, but love and truth are the message; no amount of writings could help me if I was not willing to open up my heart and mind.

Lady Philosophy asks me, as she asks Boethius, to look over all the complaints that have been made. Notice how everything of concern to us is about what happens to us, about all the things outside of us. We point to the accusers, to the informers, to those in the Senate, or in any body that has power, those people we feel have been so bold as to have their way with us. We blame bad luck, and then we go so far as to ask God to change it all, to make it all right, which implies that He was getting it all wrong before.

The books of wisdom, all the great texts of philosophy, won’t help, because the attitude we even began with is all wrong. There is that moment when I recognize that what I assumed was my worthlessness was nothing more than the most brazen arrogance. Why am I assuming the world owes me justice, when justice for me can only come from what I give of myself?

This is why Lady Philosophy must begin very gently, and very slowly, in offering her remedies. I have allowed my passions to overcome my reason. I am hurt, and I am angry, and so I am no longer thinking about what is true and good. I am letting my feelings toss me around, between fear and hope, or surrender and resistance.

A member of a Twelve Step program I help run came to me recently, completely despondent. He had been working his recovery for almost two years, but had still not found any employment to help him make ends meet. Another member decided to take it out on him, and told him that his inability to find a job was due to his inner weakness. The fellow was deeply worried that he would slip, or even relapse, because of those words.

I understood completely. The other member, pardon my French, was being an ass. He was venting his own frustrations at someone who didn’t deserve it. Yet at the same time, I suggested that allowing the behavior of others to rule us was the very reason we were helpless in the face of this or that circumstance of our lives.

Let the other man be an ass, I suggested, and help him with your own kindness if you can, or pray for him if that is right for you. But don’t allow you own efforts to make yourself better be in any way hampered by the attempts of others to make you worse. This is a chance to improve, not to be trodden down.

As I said those words, I realized that this advice was just as much for me as it was for him. I should worry about my own unhealthy spots, not those of the people around me. The world isn’t my problem. I am my problem.

Written in 7/2015