“He that would build on a lasting
resting place;
who would be firm to resist the blasts
of the storming wind;
who seeks, too, safety where he may have
contempt for the surge
and the threatening of the sea;
must leave the lofty mountain's top,
and leave the thirsting sands.
The hill is swept by all the might of
the headstrong gale.
The sands dissolve,
and will not bear the load upon them.
Let him fly the danger in a lot that is
pleasant rest unto the eye.
Let him be mindful to set his house
surely upon the lowly rock.
Then let the wind bellow,
confounding wreckage in the sea,
and you will still be founded upon
unmoving peace,
will be blessed in the strength of your
defense.
Your life will be spent in calmness,
and you may mock the raging passions of
the air.”
—from
Book 2, Poem 4
Some
people, those who would wish to be rulers of men, captains of industry, masters
of their trades, admired and revered by all, would encourage us to seek
happiness in conquering all of our circumstances.
Take
risks in order to win power, engage in conflict in order to be the best, cast
aside our enemies in order to have no equal, they say, and we will find
happiness in strength. We will be daring and brave, and, if only we are tough
enough, and smart enough, we will have everything we want.
Yet
there is a real difference between the man who is brave, and the man who is
foolhardy. There is a real difference between the man who seeks only to love, and the man who seeks only to be loved. What is really worth risking, and what is it worth risking for? Is
there not a grave danger in sacrificing who I am within for what I seek to
possess without?
How is
it courageous to surrender happiness to fortune? How is it clever to abandon
the dignity of character for the trappings of fame? There is a certain contradiction
in saying that a man is stronger within himself the more he is dependent on
things outside of himself, or that he becomes better the more he relies on the
merit of externals.
As soon
as I measure my life by the presence of a certain situation, whether or not I
have what I want is hardly within my power anymore. My contentment will come
and go with the wind, or come and go with the tide. It will depend completely upon what
happens, not at all upon what I have done.
An apparent mastery becomes a terrible slavery.
If I
build my house on the highest mountaintop, the storms will blow it away. If I
build my house on the sands by the sea, the waters will wash it away. I would
be well advised to build my house upon a firm foundation, between the mountains
and the sea, protected from either threat. I will then still appreciate the
beauty of both, but I will not be subject to their unpredictable force.
My home
may then be quite humble. It will probably not impress anyone at all. Yet when
the seasons have their way, and when the powers of the elements have their way,
I will find myself safe and secure. By building upon a firm rock, instead of
upon wavering or dangerous ground, I will have found my peace.
I have
taught not at one, but at two different schools that prided themselves in
sparing no expense to build a new and fancy campus. Their new structures, they
said, would reflect their commitments to their great missions. What neither school
seriously considered was that they were building on bad land, on land that no
one else wanted, precisely because both were on a flood plain. In both cases,
it would rain, and we would find ourselves trying to do our jobs in the middle
of a river.
Our
lives are much the same. Once I allow myself to be tossed and turned by the
whirl of circumstances, I have forgotten who I am, and the very nature of my
mission. My foolishness in choosing a poor place for my endeavors has denied me
any possible success from those endeavors.
What
might I rely upon? Fortune herself is never the answer.
Written in 8/2015
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