Diogenes for the Day, 8/1/2018

When he was told that many people laughed at him, he made the answer, "Yes, but I am not laughed down."

Diogenes for the Day, 7/31/2018

Of a public bath that was dirty he said, "When people have bathed here, where are they to go to get clean?"

Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 6.26

If any man should propose to you the question, how the name “Antoninus” is written, would you not with a patient voice utter each letter?

What then if he grow angry, will you be angry too? Will you not go on with composure and name every letter?

Just so then, in this life also remember that every duty is made up of certain parts. These it is your duty to observe, and without being disturbed, or showing anger towards those who are angry with you, to go on your way and finish that which is set before you.

—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, Book 6 (tr Long)

I have often thought that the virtue of patience serves as a rather special and privileged extension of love. I will only be capable of being patient with anyone or with anything once I am truly committed to my sense of the good for anyone or for anything. As soon as I lose sight of this, my own thoughts and actions will degrade into frustration and resentment. I will abandon my interest, because my interest is then limited only to my own gratification.

If I care enough to do something right, I will continue with the task until it is complete. My obligation will usually not be fulfilled immediately. I will be in it for the long haul. This means that I must take everything step by step, slowly and sometimes quite painfully, resting only when I have lived up to all of the parts within the whole.

And this is never easy, especially when I am struggling with mastering my own selfishness. I am responsible for myself without condition, however inconvenient my situation may be. If someone else has not understood, I must not blame him, but ask what I can do to explain it better. If someone else lashes out at me, I must not lash out in return, but ask how I might improve my concern.

My father, a linguist by trade, would often annoy me to no end whenever I asked him how a difficult word was spelled. Trying to teach me that letters were not just symbols randomly strung together, he would sound out the word for me phonetically, slowly and deliberately. I would squirm and squeal. “Just give me the darn letters!”

He would do precisely that if I pressed him, but he would always try again, and again, to have me figure it out for myself. I could see his jaw clench, and hear the deep breath he would take as he practiced a patience that grew from love. When I had children of my own, I understood the torture he surely went through. What parent has not felt the urge to simply walk away, or to say something quite nasty, or to throw something at the wall in anger?

I learned that this isn’t simply about teaching someone how to spell. It’s about helping people to learn for themselves how to live, and it’s about suffering the most ridiculous of obstacles to do what is right, while others resist it with all their might.

I realized how love itself was on the line. I saw how others gave up on me when things didn’t go their way, and I saw that they did not love me. Far more importantly, I saw how often I treated others just as poorly, and I saw what I needed to do in order to love.

A good teacher will show complete dedication to the task of having his students learn, just as a good man will show complete dedication to the task of having his friends be happy. Are we resented, mocked, or cast aside? No matter. Try again, because the many parts of our tasks are not yet done.

People won’t always do that for me, but I must always do it for them.

Written in 3/2007

 

Diogenes for the Day, 7/30/2018

He used to call the demagogues the lackeys of the people, and the crowns awarded to them the efflorescence of fame.

Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 6.25

Consider how many things in the same indivisible time take place in each of us, things that concern the body and things that concern the soul.

And so you should not wonder if many more things, or rather all things which come into existence in that which is the one and all, which we call the Cosmos, exist in it at the same time.

—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, Book 6 (tr Long)

It becomes frighteningly easy to ignore the scale, the depth, and the diversity of the Universe, and thereby underestimate the profound and beautiful pattern in which all things participate. Even though I am only a tiny part within that whole, I will also neglect my own significance when I oversimplify my many aspects.

There isn’t just one change going on within me at any given moment, but a whole array of them, all of them related to one another and acting upon one another. Sometimes these different motions seem to be working together, and sometimes they seem to be in opposition, but each still plays a role within a greater harmony. Thinking, choosing, feeling, acting or being acted upon, a state of exertion or a state of rest, coming or going, growing or dying.

The way it is within each part is a reflection of the order of the whole. When I consider only one aspect of my existence, and judge myself by that alone, I am failing to understand the fullness of myself, and what I am made to be. Likewise, when I consider only one aspect of the whole world, and judge it by that alone, I am failing to understand the fullness of the Universe, and what it is made to be. Narrow thinking leads to narrow living.

Some people are intimidated when they think of the vastness and complexity of things, though I suspect this may only happen when we are tempted to view ourselves out of context. I don’t need to feel small or insignificant when I see how big or broad everything else is. I can just as easily be happy and proud to be a part of something so grand. The whole and the part do not exclude one another, and the distinct importance of one thing is not in conflict with the rather different importance of another.

I often think of those lines from The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, by Douglas Adams:

Space is big. You just won't believe how vastly, hugely, mind-bogglingly big it is. I mean, you may think it's a long way down the road to the chemist's, but that's just peanuts to space.

A friend of mine would use this as an example of how meaningless life really was. In that vast expanse of space and time, he said, we are surely just nothing.

“Not nothing,” I would say. “Still something. Just not everything.” He did not take kindly to this, but we were still friends.

Yes, just a speck of flesh, on a pebble circling a star, in a cluster of stars among countless others. But that speck of flesh can ponder that very meaning, have a conscious sense of wonder at how that works, and is able to know and to love. That will more than do.

Written in 3/2007

Diogenes for the Day, 7/29/2018

Very valuable things, he said, were bartered for things of no value, and vice versa. At all events a statue fetches three thousand drachmas, while a quart of barley flour is sold for two copper coins.

Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 6.24

Alexander the Macedonian and his groom by death were brought to the same state.

For either they were received among the same seminal principles of the Universe, or they were alike dispersed among the atoms.

—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, Book 6 (tr Long)

Some people find this disturbing. I actually find it quite comforting. I suppose our responses will depend upon what we think is worthy in life.

We will all end up in exactly the same state, not a bit of difference between us. That will involve either returning back to where we came from, and thereby having our being transformed, or simply ceasing to be entirely. In either case, no amount of acquiring wealth, or fame, or power alters that fact.

The only remaining question is to decide how I will choose to live, while I still live. Now is it best to live according to the measure of my own character, which is in itself the expression of my nature, or to live according to my position, which depends only upon the nature of other things? Is a man made by what comes from within him, or by what is added from outside him?

Some people are so familiar with a culture of status that they cannot imagine things differently. One of my students, for example, was baffled that someone might not even want to be a world conqueror instead of the fellow that cleans up after the horses.  He finally concluded, as I recall, that this could only be because weak people had to begrudgingly accept their failure.

I can only suggest that the true failure is in neglecting to rule myself first, and then surrendering my worth to external trappings. It seems to me as silly as judging a man by what his is wearing, or how many letters go before or after his name, or how many pieces of colored plastic are in his wallet. Yet many people will do precisely that, having considered no other possibility.

Just as puzzling can be those who speak the right words so eloquently, but whose deeds still remain tied to a love of externals. I need not be confused, however, because I should quickly notice the inconsistency between what they say and what they do. A colleague of mine once nobly expressed his regret for not having done the right thing. I was briefly moved. He then gave himself away completely by adding that he couldn’t do so, because it would have meant losing his chance for tenure.

Marcus Aurelius is simply reminding us that none of the titles, achievements, or luxuries of the world will really change who we are, and the fact that death is the great equalizer can be an encouragement to quite a different way of living. The Stoic, like any man of good principles, will never seek out what is extraneous and unnecessary. He defines himself by the virtue of what he does, not by the convenience of what comes to him.

It will make no difference if he lounges about in the palace or works in the stables.

Written in 2/2007

Diogenes for the Day, 7/28/2018

At Megara he saw the sheep protected by leather jackets, while the children went bare. 

"It's better," he said, "to be a Megarian's ram than his son."

Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 6.23

As to the animals, which have no reason, and generally all things and objects, you should, since you have reason and they have none, make use of them with a generous and liberal spirit.

But towards human beings, as they have reason, behave in a social spirit.

And on all occasions call on the gods. Do not perplex yourself about the length of time in which you should do this, for even three hours so spent are sufficient.

—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, Book 6 (tr Long)

Some things in this life, those that do not possess the power to freely rule themselves, can be there for our use. Yet our dominion over them, to use a familiar phrase, can surely never be one of greed or exploitation. It is necessary to make use of things well, always keeping in mind how their benefits exist for all of Nature, and how they are to be shared freely and responsibly.

In this way, we sometimes speak of minerals, or plants, or animals as being resources, though I wonder how often we confuse the care of stewardship with an exploitation of misguided ownership.

A fellow human being, however, is not a thing at all, but a person. He is not a what, but a who. I remember being a bit taken aback when I was still rather young, and I first heard the phrase “human resources” being used. I was confused about the idea that another person could be seen as a commodity, or as a means to an end. When I sincerely asked about this, I was met with blank stares. “Well, that’s what an employee is, right?”

However we are expected to see the relationship of people to profit in the world of business, I have always tried to think on a different level, a human level. Another person shares in the same powers of judgment and choice as myself, and he is therefore made to be his own master. Another person shares in the same end and purpose of existence as myself, and he has the right to seek happiness through his own actions.

He is not something I have authority over, but someone I share authority with. He is not there only to serve me, but we are both made to serve one another. Our nature orders us toward cooperation, not conflict.

Marcus Aurelius often speaks about practicing our social nature, and I suspect he means something deeper than just being pleasant or possessing good manners. To me, he is speaking about having an inherent respect for the dignity of each individual, regardless of any convenience or utility. Pleasing a friend to get what I want is quite different from loving a friend to help him get what he needs.

I notice that while I have a responsibility for the things below me, and a solidarity with the people equal to me, I must also have a reverence for what is above me. These three relationships go together, because they are all parts of the whole. Express this in whatever manner you think is best, but there is no fullness of Nature without looking to the Divine measure from which all other things proceed. It’s a package deal.

Written in 2/2007

IMAGE: Jan Pietersz, Adam Naming the Animals (1604)

Diogenes for the Day, 7/27/2018

Someone having reproached him for going into dirty places, his reply was that the sun too visits cesspools without being defiled.

Boethius, The Consolation 2.10

“When over the heaven Phoebus Apollo, from his rose-red car,

 begins to shed his light abroad,

his flames oppress the paling stars

and blunt their whitened rays.

When the grove grows bright in spring,

with roses beneath the west wind's warming breath,

let but the cloudy gale once wildly blow,

and their beauty is gone, the thorns alone remain.

Often the sea is calmly glistening bright,

with all untroubled waves,

but as often does the north wind stir them up,

making the troubling tempest boil.

If then the earth's own covering so seldom constant stays,

if its changes are so great,

shall you then trust the brittle fortunes of mankind,

have faith in fleeting good?

For this is sure, and this is fixed by everlasting law,

that nothing which is brought to birth

shall constant here abide.”

—from Book 2, Poem 3

The natural world around me will always throw me for a loop. Whether it is the scalding heat replaced by the numbing cold, or my precious garden parched on one day and flooded away the next. This is a life lesson on at least two levels. Always expect what is unexpected, and never rely on what is unreliable.

The human world is absolutely no different. The man you think you can trust implicitly may well betray you in a moment. The woman who said she loves you without condition may suddenly discover some new conditions. You may no longer, after all, be profitable or pleasant to them.

Now this can be a source of despair about what is valuable in life, or it can be a source for reconsideration about what is valuable in life. I might hate the changes of the seasons because they do me wrong, even as I could also learn to come to terms with the change of the seasons. I might also hate the thoughts and deeds of others because they do me wrong, even as I could also learn to come to terms with the thoughts and deeds of others.

What is my measure, and what is my standard?

It often helps me greatly to go through all of those things that I usually consider dependable, and then remind myself about how they are never dependable at all. This arises from a sense of hope, not from a sense of surrender. Hope for the certain things, and surrender the uncertain things.

My work. The most precarious of jobs can end up being quite secure, and the safest of jobs can end up being the most passing. I have little choice in the matter. Can I truly know the difference?

My possessions. I have spent time building up my collections of things, only to lose some I thought I needed, while keeping others I thought I didn’t need. I have little choice in the matter. Can I truly know the difference?

My standing. Reputation will come and it will go, regardless of what I might say or do. I have little choice in the matter. Can I truly know the difference?

My friends. How can I discern the difference between someone who loves me for my own sake, or loves me for his own sake? This is never as easy as it seems. I have little choice in the matter. Can I truly know the difference?

My amusements. I have passed from the most delightful of pleasures to the most agonizing of pains. My own efforts, however committed, are never guaranteed to go one way or the other. I have little choice in the matter. Can I truly know the difference?

My health. They tell me to live right, eat well, get my exercise, and see my doctor regularly. Yet my heart is still failing, even as the man who follows none of this advice is going strong. I have little choice in the matter. Can I truly know the difference?

My very life itself. I am living at this very moment, and I somehow foolishly think that this will not change. Yet it will, whether I see it coming or not. Some men die in their beds, at a ripe old age, knowing the end is here. Others die in but a moment, in the prime of life, not expecting it at all. I have little choice in the matter. Can I truly know the difference?

As long it comes and goes in a way that has nothing to do with me, it can hardly be the way I can truly be myself. 

Written in 7/2015

IMAGE: Gustave Moreau, Chariot of Phoebus Apollo (c. 1880)

 

Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 6.22

I do my duty. Other things trouble me not.

For they are either things without life, or things without reason, or things that have rambled and know not the way.

—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, Book 6 (tr Long)

When it comes to understanding and respecting the world, my span of attention must be broad. But when it comes to what I should worry myself about, and what I should seek to control, my span of attention must be quite narrow.

I am called to seek the good for all things, because I am a part within the whole. The way for me to serve the whole is to rule myself first and foremost, directing my concern at what is rightly within my power, my own thoughts and deeds.

I do not need to be anxious and frustrated with what is beyond my scope of responsibility. It is not for me to decide, and I can rightly trust that Providence will ultimately have it be as it should. Inanimate things proceed by their own set laws, directed by their own specific natures. Animate things proceed by their instincts, directed by their own specific natures. Rational creatures, however, proceed by their own judgments. It is my own estimation of things that allows me to rule myself.

This, in turn, will form how I choose to perceive the benefit and harm in other things around me. Does my neighbor choose evil? I can assist him back to the path of wisdom, but I cannot, and should hardly attempt, to do it for him. Only he can decide to do that.

I will often fuss and fret over many things that were never made for me to determine. Let them be as they must, but let me be certain to adapt myself rightly. If I am impatient with the world, I will find my life going very poorly. It is only my own weakness for which I should offer no quarter.

Peace and contentment do not come from ordering the world to my ease or preference. They come from ordering myself to the world. What a profound relief it is whenever I understand this.

I must remember that this is in no way a matter of selfishness, defeatism, or thoughtlessness. I am called to focus on my own distinct part to perform. To do anything else would be like a violinist in an orchestra also trying to play the trumpet parts, or a doctor telling an accountant how to do his job. What is, in fact, most deeply selfish is to insist on the power of my choices where it does not belong. Again, as Plato says, true justice is minding your own business.

A fine priest I once knew told me that my sense of duty would never ask me to play God, only to be His servant. A dear friend once told me that it’s always my job to love others, but never my job to make others love me. These are helpful ways to limit my worry, by directing my attention on what is my own.

Written in 2/2007

Diogenes for the Day, 7/26/2018

On being asked what he had gained from philosophy, he replied, "This at least, if nothing else—to be prepared for every fortune." 

Asked where he came from, he said, "I am a citizen of the world."

Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 6.21

If any man is able to convince me and show me that I do not think or act right, I will gladly change.

For I seek the truth by which no man was ever injured. But he is injured who abides in his error and ignorance.

—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, Book 6 (tr Long)

I spent a number of years teaching at a school that described itself as being based on both Catholic and Liberal Arts principles.  I believed in both of these principles. I committed myself to them with all of my heart and soul.

Yet the Vice President for Ministry abused young women. The Director of Campus Ministry, a married man, had affairs with students. Both are men deeply respected in the community. I didn’t want to believe any of it, until I saw it for myself. I saw for myself a priest run his hands over a young lady’s private bits. I also saw for myself a small and petty man making out with one of my students on the hood of his car. The administration, time and time again, ignored the facts, covered for the offenders, and cast aside the victims.

Surely, they were all good Catholics?

There was a horrible moment for me, when I realized I had been wrong. I had supported this institution, through thick and thin, even as they had never actually supported me. I made excuses for them, and I made excuses for myself. I wasted years of my life thinking wrong was right, and I am ashamed that I ever could have been so foolish as to do so.

Whenever I brought any of this up with my colleagues, I was told that the risk of scandal against the Church mattered far more than any of my petty concerns. 

And then I grew up. No more. There is no shame in admitting that I was wrong. There is only shame in not making right of what I had done wrong.

I believe that the Catholic Church, as it currently stands, is the most corrupt institution I have ever known. I say that from having worked for them for over thirty years. I also believe the Catholic Faith is one of the greatest paths to righteousness and happiness. Go figure.

I have learned to allow other people to take their own paths. I have also learned that I must follow my own conscience, informed by the Divine, and I must never resist admitting my own errors.

To all those young ladies who told me about abuses, I apologize. I was wrong not to do more at the time. No one stood up for you.

To all those young people in general, who suffered from being treated like tools and being personally manipulated by a cultist Campus Ministry, I apologize. I was wrong not to do more at the time. No one stood up for you.

To anyone I dismissed, because I thought the Church could do no wrong, I apologize. You were right. I was wrong. No one stood up for you.

There’s a deeply humbling moment when a man realizes he has messed things up far more than he can say. A good man then turns things around, and he changes himself, and he changes his own thought and actions.

Redemption will never come from being excused by all of those fancy authorities that take my money in exchange for their glorious blessings.

Redemption will only come from fixing myself, and ordering my life to God as He would have it, not as I would have it.

Written in 12/2016

Diogenes for the Day, 7/25/2018

Being asked whether he had any maid or boy to wait on him, he said "No." 

"If you should die, then, who will carry you out to burial?" 

"Whoever wants the house," he replied.

Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 6.20

In the gymnastic exercises suppose that a man has torn you with his nails, and by dashing against your head has inflicted a wound.

Well, we neither show any signs of vexation, nor are we offended, nor do we suspect him afterwards as a treacherous fellow. 

And yet we are on our guard against him, not however as an enemy, nor yet with suspicion, but we quietly get out of his way.

Something like this let your behavior be in all the other parts of life. Let us overlook many things in those who are like antagonists in the gymnasium. For it is in our power, as I said, to get out of the way, and to have neither suspicion nor hatred.

—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, Book 6 (tr Long)

I have often struggled between the extremes of sticking around the people who were bad for me, or allowing myself to be consumed by resentment for them. There is a wonderful middle ground of neither allowing any harm to be done to myself, nor doing any harm to others.

As a rational and a social animal, man can always love his neighbor as himself, and he does not have to feel anger or hatred when he gets out of the way of someone who will do him wrong. In my own experience, I think of this as being able to judge without being judgmental, or being able to distinguish right from wrong without becoming self-righteous or dismissive.

And as this describes a harmonious relationship to our fellows, it can also describe a harmonious relationship to the entire world itself, and to the workings of Providence. I need never be hateful to any of my neighbors, and I need never be hateful to any of my circumstances.

Many years ago, I did not step aside when I saw someone dangerous heading my way. I do not need to delude myself by claiming that my ignorance was not of my own making. Years of allowing myself to be dragged about by dishonesty and disloyalty followed, and I consequently allowed myself to react with resentment or despair. The way I faced all other conditions and events mirrored this. My own estimation imposed a cynical and suspicious tint to everything that I saw around me.

Life does not need to be this way. I must deal with my sparring partners wisely, and I must manage anything that comes my way without the slightest degree of malice. There is never any need to cast blame outwards at anyone or anything, only to take responsibility for myself inwards. I can say no, without spitting venom.

Others will be as they will be, and I must justly make of myself what I can justly make of myself. I must never be in conflict with others, or with my world.

Written in 2/2007

Diogenes for the Day, 7/24/2018

Hegesias having asked him to lend him one of his writings, he said, "You are a simpleton, Hegesias. You should not choose painted figs, but real ones; and yet you pass over the true training and would apply yourself to written rules."

The Path to Aqaba

As a reference for Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 6.19:

From Lawrence of Arabia (1962), directed by David Lean

"I can't answer for the place, only for myself."

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5ZQSpMiaaxk

"Nothing is written."

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z7TnY94x_mI

One day, there will be a film like this made again. One day. 

Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 6.19

If a thing is difficult to be accomplished by yourself, do not think that it is impossible for man.

But if anything is possible for man and conformable to his nature, think that this can be attained by yourself as well.

—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, Book 6 (tr Long)

When I was first allowed to formally teach philosophy, I was offered very little advice on how to do the actual teaching. This might seem odd to someone who has not seen the insides of the higher education machine, but teaching is rarely a priority for the academic. I was largely on my own.

My biggest worry was that students would not be able to grasp the content, though I was only a few years older than they were. I quickly learned that if I explained an argument as clearly and directly as I could, made use of examples, and presented it as if it really meant something, the material itself was never the problem. They were quite capable of understanding.

The difficulty I confronted was rather one of application. The ideas may have been interesting, but I found students had little desire to actually live them out.

“That sounds great in theory, but how does it help me in practice?”

“Well, let’s be real. No one can actually go through life that way.”

“Do you realize everything I’d have to change if I wanted to be like Socrates? It’s too much to ask!”

I would bemoan all the dark aspects of the same collegiate culture I had recently left myself, but I quickly saw that I was being just as negative. After all the bells and whistles, the clever assignments, and the attempts at impassioned discussion, I was left with the only response I could give.

“Never assume that something difficult is something impossible. Consider how the best things in life are often the hardest to achieve.”

And if I really wanted them to believe me, I would need to be living that way myself. A man can hardly point to noble truths, insist that they are within reach, and then fail to pursue them for himself. “You go on ahead, I’ll catch up!” are hardly inspirational words.

Their hesitation about living a truly good life most often didn’t proceed from mere laziness, but it came from the assumption that such a happiness was actually impossible, completely out of their reach. As I got older, I would find myself telling those students, who just seemed to get younger and younger, that what was already within them, a part of who they already were, was never a distant dream or unobtainable goal.

The beauty of it all was that I needed to hear that just as much for myself. 

Those poor folks who know me well will also know that line from a great film I appeal to about this very question. Yes, you’ll need to hear it at least one more time:

Aqaba is over there. It’s only a matter of going. 

Written in 2/2007

Diogenes for the Day, 7/23/2018

He used also to reason thus: "All things belong to the gods. The wise are friends of the gods, and friends hold things in common. Therefore all things belong to the wise."

Diogenes for the Day, 7/22/2018

Someone dropped a loaf of bread and was ashamed to pick it up; whereupon Diogenes, wishing to teach him a lesson, tied a rope to the neck of a wine-jar and proceeded to drag it across the Ceramicus.