Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 7.43

No joining others in their wailing, no violent emotion.

—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, Book 7 (tr Long)

The term “stoic” or “stoical” in common usage indicates someone who can endure hardship, will not complain, or does not express emotion. Accordingly, it can also easily take on the negative meaning of a person who is unfeeling, uncaring, or coldly rational.

This is unfortunate, and falsely assumes that a life lived with calm, contentment, and self-control must surely also be completely emotionless. The problem is that because the Stoic does not act with great extremes of frantic feeling, it is concluded that he must have no feelings at all.

Now I know some people who live their lives in ways that are very Stoic, directly or indirectly, and who also happen to come across as very mild, restrained, or reserved. At the same time, I know just as many people who embrace Stoic-like values who also happen to come across as quite expressive, outgoing, and passionate. Of course the Stoic has feelings, just because he is human, and the sense of commitment he lives with, whatever his personality may be, does not proceed from repressing or denying these feelings. In fact, I would say that he actually embraces them fully, and he is able to do so because he can understand, and therefore be the master of, his passions.

A better grasp of who the Stoic really is would be, I suggest, not that he lacks emotion, but that he seeks to have ordered and balanced emotions. He works to let sound judgment about what is right and good guide his choices and actions, and so he is not swept this way and that by his desires and aversions. That’s hardly repression; it’s called character.

Having passions isn’t a problem, but not being able to rule them certainly is. Of course I feel pleasure and pain, affection and anger, excitement and weariness, while also recognizing that I have lost my way if I allow them to overwhelm me. Turbulent, hectic, and erratic passions are the problem.

My own experience has taught me that building good habits in guiding my feelings actually makes it possible for me to feel with greater meaning and depth. My attempts at living in a Stoic manner, however incomplete they may be, have allowed me to become a far more caring and compassionate person. I sadly suspect the man who calls himself Stoic, but acts without the deepest sympathy, is embracing the word, but not the task.

Whenever I allow myself to succumb to whining and complaining, for example, I know this follows only from my resentment, and I further know that my resentment follows from permitting my estimation to be swamped by the force of my feelings.

Temperance is a sadly neglected virtue, but still as necessary as it ever was. 

Written in 12/2007

Epictetus, Golden Sayings 40

Epaphroditus had a shoemaker as a slave, whom he sold as being a good-for-nothing. This fellow, by some accident, was afterwards purchased by one of Caesar's men, and became a shoemaker to Caesar. You should have seen what respect Epaphroditus paid him then. "How is the good Felicion? Kindly let me know!" 

And if any of us inquired, "What is Epaphroditus doing?" the answer was, "He is consulting about so and so with Felicion."

Had he not sold him as a good-for-nothing? Who had in suddenly converted him into a know-it-all? 

This is what comes of holding of importance anything but the things that depend on the Will.

Boethius, The Consolation 2.25

Then I said, “You know that the vain-glory of this world has had but little influence over me; but I have desired the means of so managing affairs that virtue might not grow aged in silence.”

“Yes,” she said, “but there is one thing that can attract minds, which, though by nature excelling, yet are not led by perfection to the furthest bounds of virtue; and that thing is the love of fame and reputation for deserving well of one's country.

“Think then thus upon it, and see that it is but a slight thing of no weight. As you have learned from astronomers' showing, the whole circumference of the earth is but as a point compared with the size of the heavens. That is, if you compare the earth with the circle of the Universe, it must be reckoned as of no size at all.

“And of this tiny portion of the Universe there is only a fourth part, as you have learnt from the demonstration of Ptolemy, which is inhabited by living beings known to us. If from this fourth part you imagine subtracted all that is covered by sea and marsh, and all the vast regions of thirsty desert, you will find but the narrowest space left for human habitation.

“And do you think of setting forth your fame and publishing your name in this space, which is but as a point within another point so closely circumscribed? And what size or magnificence can fame have which is shut in by such close and narrow bounds?

“Further, this narrow enclosure of habitation is peopled by many races of men which differ in language, in customs, and in their whole scheme of living; and owing to difficulty of travelling, differences of speech, and rareness of any intercourse, the fame of cities cannot reach them, much less the fame of men.

“Has not Cicero written somewhere that in his time the fame of Rome had not reached the mountains of the Caucasus, though the Republic was already well grown and striking awe among the Parthians and other nations in those parts? Do you see then how narrow and closely bounded must be that fame which you wish to extend more widely? Can the fame of a Roman ever reach parts to which the name of Rome cannot come?” . . .

—from Book 2, Prose 7

Where is that line between doing right, and wanting to be seen as doing right?

If I had the chance to practice justice, but with no recognition whatsoever, would I do so? Would my choice be different if it also leads to praise, and honor, and glory? What would that say about my character?

Now I only need to ask myself what all of those external rewards might mean. The Universe is incredibly vast, and I am incredibly small. Narrow the scope to the Earth itself, and I am still small. Narrow the scope to my nation, or to my time, or to my place, and I am still small. Narrow all the scope, yet I become no bigger, or any more important.

I may look at a worm, and think how insignificant it is; I am no more significant. Squash a worm, or squash me. Who will notice, or who might pay attention?

The concern for noticing or receiving attention is the root of the problem here. The worm fulfills its nature, in its own way, and it asks for nothing more. Yet men neglect their own nature, and they ask for far more. Instead of just working to be good while they are around, they worry about being considered good when they’re not around.

Even as they are men, they wish to be gods. They observe their own reason, and seek to make their reason supreme. They are mortal, but believe they can make themselves immortal by their plotting and scheming.

By all means, I could make myself the biggest lawyer, doctor, businessman, academic, or politician there ever was. I could work my best to be loved by others, or to be feared by others, or to make my mark.

My mark may be noticed by a few around me, but it will remain unnoticed by most everyone else. Each of us is just one very tiny fish in a very big sea. I’m not thinking of a few goldfish in a bowl, or a few trout in a lake, but rather an image of a vast school of millions and millions of herring, itself just another one of countless other schools across a vast ocean.

My mark will also fade, and it will pass. If I think that I will be remembered and revered, a time will come, for most of us just around the corner, where each of us is completely forgotten. If I think my fame defines me, I will cease to exist quite soon. Very soon. There is no immortality there.

One of my students once nobly argued that great people are known to all, and will never die. I put that to the test by asking a bunch of blokes at a bar in Vienna if they knew who George Washington was. “Yes, of course!” they said. “He’s that one who defeated Napoleon!”

At another time, I asked some students at a very classy college, up on the list of the supposed best, who Marcus Aurelius was. “Wait, I know, he was that doctor on a TV show my Mom used to watch!” Jesus wept.

Now recognize how even if we are remembered, for a moment or two, by a few people here or there, who they might think we are will have little to do with who we actually are.

And the fact that any of this may sound disturbing or discouraging tells me how disordered my sense of priorities has become.

Here is another, quite radical, alternative. I could define myself by what I do, just for its own sake, not by how I am seen. 

Written in 9/2015

Epictetus, Golden Sayings 39

When one took counsel of Epictetus, saying, "What I seek is this, how even though my brother is not reconciled to me, I may still remain as Nature would have me to be," he replied: 

"All great things are slow of growth; this is true even of a grape or of a fig. If then you say to me now, I desire a fig, I shall answer, it needs time.

"Wait until it first flowers, then it casts its blossom, then it ripens. 

"Since then the fruit of the fig tree does not reach maturity suddenly, nor yet in a single hour, do you nevertheless desire so quickly and easily, to reap the fruit of the mind of man?

"No, do not expect it, even though you asked it!"

Now THAT'S Good Writing! :-)

Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 7.42

For the good is with me, and the just.

—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, Book 7 (tr Long)

Euripides is quoted yet another time, and still not for the last time. I obviously have no knowledge of what Marcus Aurelius was reading, or of what he was privately thinking, and it seems wrong for me to even speculate about the workings of a mind so much greater than my own.

Still, I have had those times where I read a novel or a poem, or I view a play or a film, and I am amazed at the many ways it can speak to me, over and over again. My enthusiasm may frustrate others, and they grow annoyed with my constant interest.

“There he goes again,” someone once said about me, “trying to discover truth!” The snicker and the rolling of the eyes told me all I needed to know about that.

It was intended as an insult, but I tried to take it as a compliment. I wondered to myself, fighting a sense of resentment, what else might possibly be worth discovering? Everything else, pleasure and pain, success and failure, happiness and misery, hinge upon that very first need.

I observe all the greed, the hatred, the lies, and, above all else, the ignorance behind it. What can I possibly do about that? Can I fix other people, and make them think with an open mind, or act with a loving heart? What nonsense. Only they can do that for themselves. I can try to help them, but the choices are theirs.

What remains for me is to strive to be good myself, not as an exercise in vanity, but as a commitment to that very truth some others might disdain. I must struggle with the temptation to be served, and insist that I am only here to serve. A man is, after all, a creature defined by his own choices and actions, not by the choices and actions of others.

The only obstacle to doing this is my own confusion. I must first seek what is good and just through my own thinking and doing, and then also seek to surround myself with people who share in that same purpose. Poor ground yields no fruit.

Then, both virtue and decency are inside of me, as well as outside of me. It isn’t rocket science. It’s as simple as that.

Then, I may rest content that I have done my best, in the company of others doing their best. 

Written in 12/2007

Epictetus, Golden Sayings 38

"How shall my brother cease to be angry with me?" 

Bring him to me, and I will tell him. 

But to you, I have nothing to say about his anger. 

Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 7.41

If gods care not for me and for my children,

There is a reason for it.

—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, Book 7 (tr Long)

Yet another reference to Euripides. Great wisdom and inspiration are to be found in the works of the Greek tragedians, as their art, however grand in scale, mirrors so much of our daily lives.

Depending on my attitude or mood, I may read this passage in two different ways. Perhaps when life isn’t going my way, the gods are angry with me, and so they are sending me an appropriate punishment for my sins. Then I might need to put my house in order to get back in their good graces.

Now Providence surely offers rewards and punishments in many ways, means of both encouraging us to what is good and discouraging us from what is bad, but I could also understand the principle on a different level. It need not be about whether I am liked or disliked at all, or on the naughty or nice list.

For the Stoic, every condition is an opportunity for living well, and so whatever may happen is there for a perfectly good reason. I may not understand it right now, and maybe I will never understand it completely. Nevertheless, the presence or absence of anything serves a purpose within the whole. It is my job to find the greatest benefit for myself and for others within it.

Whatever my preference may be, the gods will smile or frown as they should. Now what will I make of that, what will I learn from it, how will I use it to improve myself? As Max Ehrmann said it so nicely, “No doubt the Universe is unfolding as it should.”

Some people will question Providence, or God, or Intelligence, or whatever we may wish to call it, because they become frustrated when things seem to go wrong, when their desires are not satisfied, or when their expectations are not met. They may think it unjust, and I understand completely. I have been there many times.

Yet whenever I am pulled in that direction, I try to remember that fairness is not measured by whether the Universe gives me what I want. With apologies to Mick Jagger, it gives me what I need.

If I approach my life thinking that good and bad are in my circumstances, then yes, life seems quite unfair. But if, like a Stoic, I approach my life thinking that the good and bad for me are in my estimation and action, then everything in life is, in this sense, fair. If it pleases, I may embrace it, and if it hurts, I may confront it and transform it.

Things don’t go wrong for me. I choose to go wrong with things.

Consider it as literally or symbolically as you like, but every one of those thunderbolts hurled by Zeus always hits right on the mark, whether it gives or it takes away. 

Written in 12/2007

Epictetus, Golden Sayings 37

"But," you say, "I cannot comprehend all this at once."

"Why, who told you that your powers were equal to God's?"

Yet God has placed by the side of each a man's own Guardian Spirit, who is charged to watch over him—a Guardian who sleeps not nor is deceived. For to what better or more watchful Guardian could He have committed each of us? 

So when you have shut the doors and made a darkness within, remember never to say that you are alone; for you are not alone, but God is within, and your Guardian Spirit, and what light do they need to behold what you do? 

To this God you also should have sworn allegiance, even as soldiers unto Caesar. They, when their service is hired, swear to hold the life of Caesar dearer than all else. 

And will you not swear your oath, as you are deemed worthy of so many and great gifts? And will you not keep your oath when you have sworn it? And what oath will you swear? 

Never to disobey, never to arraign or murmur at anything that comes to you from His hand, never unwillingly to do or suffer anything that necessity lays upon you. 

"Is this oath like theirs?" 

They swear to hold no other dearer than Caesar; you, to hold our true selves dearer than all else beside.

Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 7.40

Life must be reaped like the ripe ears of corn:

One man is born, another dies.

—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, Book 7 (tr Long)

The reference here again is to Euripides. One of the  things I have worked toward in my own journey through Stoic philosophy is the joyful acceptance of change as something inherently good in the order of Nature.

I will, unfortunately, still hold on to past wrongs, simply because of the weakness of my own thinking, and that is still a work in progress. I do better with it on some days, exactly when I remember a maxim like this, and I do worse on other days, when I choose to forget it.

At those times when I am forgetful, I find it helpful to insist to myself that change is hardly a harmful thing. I reflect upon the great benefit within it, and seek to recognize that the only hurt within it comes from my own preferences and attachments. It is only bad for me when I permit it to be.

Things come into a specific existence, and they fall out of a specific existence. As foolish as they may sound, I keep a few of my own phrases handy to strengthen my resolve:

Change is action. The very act of doing involves a transformation, in any and every form. Life is not a static state, but a constant motion.

Change is growth. Nothing comes from nothing, but something comes from something else. Things gain in the fullness of existence, and then transfer that fullness onward.

Change is improvement. Where there is growth, there is a struggle to increase in perfection. Yet it will not remain standing still.

Change is rebuilding. Whatever has been strives to be most fully itself, and then is reconstituted into another instance of striving.

Change is renewal. The old is reborn into the new, and this is an expression of the deepest triumph. Nothing is defeated. Everything lives again.

Change is eternal. I do not claim to know how Providence intends for the Universe to play itself out, but I do know that as long as there is life, there will be action and change.

I choose to embrace, and not to fear, any sort of reaping. 

Written in 12/2007

Epictetus, Golden Sayings 36

Asked how a man might convince himself that every single act of his was under the eye of God, Epictetus answered:

"Do you not hold that things on earth and things in heaven are continuous and in unison with each other?" 

"I do," was the reply. 

"How else should the trees so regularly, as though by God's command, at His bidding flower; at His bidding send forth shoots, bear fruit and ripen it; at His bidding let it fall and shed their leaves, and folded up upon themselves lie in quietness and rest? 

"How else, as the Moon waxes and wanes, as the Sun approaches and recedes, can it be that such vicissitude and alternation is seen in earthly things?
 
"If then all things that grow, even our own bodies, are thus bound up with the whole, is not this still truer of our souls? 

And if our souls are bound up and in contact with God, as being very parts and fragments plucked from Himself, shall He not feel every movement of theirs as though it were His own, and belonging to His own nature?" 

Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 7.39

To the immortal gods and us give joy.

—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, Book 7 (tr Long)

Surely we all know that it is our nature to be happy, and that we have no greater purpose than that. The difficulty, of course, is coming to understand what that may actually mean, and how best to achieve this end. Given the urgency of the task, we seem to often make ourselves quite miserable in the pursuit of happiness. We fill ourselves with anger, recrimination, frustration, and anxiety instead. With results like that, is there a chance we’re on the wrong path?

I have often succumbed to that sort of stubborn dissatisfaction, where I would rather be at war than at peace, where I would rather be vindicated than content. In hindsight, all I realize is that I have blinded myself to taking responsibility for myself. It somehow seems easier to lash out at everyone and everything outside of me, instead of improving what is inside of me.

My own last great obstacle to embracing happiness is letting go of resentment. I do not need to blame the world, and I don’t even need to blame myself anymore, because I can change my thinking and living right here and now.

In the middle of all the weeping and gnashing of teeth, I have overlooked joy. How simple joy really is, but how difficult I can make it for myself. I may foolishly prefer to be bloated with the arrogance of being somehow proven right, and the world proven wrong, instead of being completely content with the humility of just striving to be good.

For me, the recovery of joy is a part of what I like to call the Stoic Turn, a reordering of priorities. Life should be measured by what I do, not by what happens to me. I should seek to rule myself, not to rule others. My happiness ought to exist in harmony with the whole of Nature, not in conflict with the world. It means I can be defined by love instead of hate, acceptance instead of anger, and happiness instead of sadness.

It may seem so hopeless when I see how cynical people can become, the presence of the “life sucks and then you die” mentality. Yes, unpleasant things will happen, and yes, I will most certainly die, but that is neither here nor there. If I succumb to that sort of thinking, I am ignoring the most important part of it all, about how I can choose to live with and through such circumstances. Why should I focus on what is outside of my power, when I can dedicate myself completely to what is within my power?

Through it all, I remain convinced that we are all made, like the Divine, to find rest in joy. I am the only one who can stop me from doing so. 

Written in 12/2007

IMAGE: Abraham Janssens, An Allegory of Joy and Melancholy (c. 1623) 

Epictetus, Golden Sayings 35

When we are invited to a banquet, we take what is set before us; and were one to call upon his host to set fish upon the table or sweet things, he would be deemed absurd. 

Yet in a word, we ask the Gods for what they do not give; and that, although they have given us so many things!

Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 7.38

It is not right to vex ourselves at things,

For they care nothing about it.

—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, Book 7 (tr Long)

The Philosopher-Emperor here quotes the great playwright Euripides, with one the most simple and most helpful pieces of advice I have ever heard.

I think of all of the wasted time, all of the wasted effort, spent in being frustrated by my circumstances, by the people I was convinced had wronged me, by the way the world worked in ways I did not want it to work.

And here was the thing: my annoyance only disturbed me. I only made myself worse. People who have acted poorly never cared for me to begin with, and they certainly don’t care for me after the fact. I’m just disposable to them. The events of life, however painful or crushing, do not change when I fret about them. It will be as it will be, but who I am is entirely up to me.

In one of the darkest moments of my Wilderness Years, when I allowed the Black Dog to tell me what to do, I once sat down with a fifth of bourbon and a pack of cigarettes. It was nothing but an exercise in self-pity. One of the few friends I had left sat down right next to me.

“Go ahead, drink yourself stupid. It won’t make it any better. It isn’t about what’s happened, it’s about you pulling yourself up by your bootstraps. Let that girl break your heart, and let the bullies have their way. You sit there crying, all worried about them, but they have absolutely no worry about you. You are already forgotten to them.”

As painful as it felt to hear that, it was completely true. So there I sat, wondering about what others may think of me. There I sat, angered by the way of the world. Yet what others may have thought, or how circumstances played themselves out, had nothing to do with me.

That girl who broke my heart has absolutely no concern for me. I was just a footnote in her life. That thoughtless boss who wouldn’t give me a raise doesn’t even remember my name. I was just another commodity for his own success.

Nothing I can ever do will change them. All that happily remains is for me to change myself.

Some say that we have to go out and make the world fit us, and to make others conform to our own wants and desires. They are sorely mistaken. At best, we may find a convenient holding pattern, where the situation of life happens to be preferable or advantageous for that moment. The real challenge, the only one that yields anything reliable, is mastering our own thinking.

A fool is angry because of what has been done to him, while a wise man is happy about what he can do. 

Written in 3/1999

Epictetus, Golden Sayings 34

Asked how a man might eat acceptably to the Gods, Epictetus replied:

If when he eats, he can be just, cheerful, equable, temperate, and orderly, can he not thus eat acceptably to the Gods? 

But when you call for warm water, and your slave does not answer, or when he brings it lukewarm, or is not even found to be in the house at all, then not to be vexed nor burst with anger, is not that acceptable to the Gods? 

"But how can one endure such people?"

Slave, will you not endure your own brother, who has God as his forefather, even as a son sprung from the same stock, and of the same high descent as yourself? And if you are stationed in a high position, are you therefore forthwith set up as a tyrant? 

Remember who you are, and whom you rule, that they are by nature your kinsmen, your brothers, the offspring of God. 

"But I paid a price for them, not they for me!"

Do you see where you are looking—down to the earth, to the pit, to those despicable laws of the dead? But to the laws of the Gods you do not look.

Marillion, "I Will Walk on Water"

Every man has a song or two that helped him save his life. This was one for me.

Some people are only happy when everything is completely explained, filed, indexed, and accounted for. For every claim, there must be peer review. For every insistence, there must be verifiable evidence. For every experience, there must be hard proof.

And then there are those moments in life, when you know exactly the truth of what you are going through, but all of the experts and pundits tell you that you are surely mistaken. If it can't be reproduced in the laboratory, it surely can't be real.

Life isn't a laboratory. Things will happen that are truly mysterious, wonderful, and uplifting. The Universe is far bigger, and far more amazing, than what the special folks in their lab coats claim to understand. There is indeed magic, and there are indeed miracles.

None of it is about superstition, or about imaginary causes. It simply means that Nature and Providence will work in ways that we can't expect. Thank you for that.

Written in 12/1992

Marillion, "I Will Walk on Water", from Six of One, Half Dozen of the Other (1992)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5e9UhF4IDBo

Something is coming out of the rain
Magic
it's happening again
Like the last time
I don't know how it happens
But I know what to do
Comin' up from the ground
I think it's you

I will walk on water

You sent me the red sun and the purple sky
Cirrus clouds and grins
Atoms of roses
The power to do anything
In the chaos of colors
And the fluttering of wings
You carry me up
And I'm free again

Don't let anyone tell you
This is impossible
What we have here is bigger than fear

I will walk on water

Don't let anyone tell you
This is unbelievable

Don't let anyone tell you
This is impossible

Hold on to me
Believe what you see
Hold on to me
Believe what you see

I will walk on water

Boethius, The Consolation 2.24

“We have heard what ruin Nero wrought

 when Rome was burnt and senators were slain.

We know how savagely he did to death his brother,

how he was stained by the spilling of his own mother's blood,

and how he looked upon her cold body

and yet no tear fell upon his cheek;

yet this man was judge of the morals of those who were dead.

Nay, he was ruler of the peoples whom the sun looks upon

from the time he rises in the east

until he hides his rays beneath the waves,

and those whom the chilling northern stars overrule,

and those whom the southern gale burns with its dry blast,

as it heats the burning sands.

Say, could great power chasten Nero's maddened rage?

Ah! heavy fate, how often is the sword of high injustice

given where is already most poisonous cruelty!”

—from Book 2, Poem 6

We are so easily impressed by wealth, fame, and power, even as they are never what will make us good. Like any nation, Rome had its great leaders, and its terrible leaders. All the emperors had power, but the great ones were defined by their virtue, and the terrible ones by their vice. You may give a man dominion over everything outside of him, but it is the qualities of the heart and mind within him that will determine how he exercises that dominion.

Perhaps Nature permits brutal tyrants to come our way to remind us where true value lies, and that power is never an assurance of excellence. Every generation will have its fair share of despots and oppressors, sometimes so many of them that we have a hard time finding anyone who will rule with benevolence.

Though it can sometimes be difficult to unravel the facts from the legends, the name of Nero stands out as one of those warnings of what happens when you mix great power with a crooked soul. Few things can be more horrifying than overwhelming strength combined with depraved cruelty. We can see it in ancient Rome, just as we can see it around us today, constant proof that authority and influence do not make a good man.

The autocrats and bullies come in many shapes and sizes, and the small ones can sometimes be just as frightening as the big ones. I once had the misfortune of working with an administrator who took a sinister delight in inflicting suffering on those he disliked. He seemed to take special pleasure in making women cry. He had the ear of a superior, and was a master of manipulation, so his position was virtually unassailable. I did my best to avoid him at all costs, because he made my skin crawl. The most frightening thing about him was the way he would flash a sinister little grin and rub his hands together whenever he got his way. We have surely all known the sorts of people who make us want to run for the hills.

I’m not sure that power makes men evil, because I have known those who will rule with justice and kindness, but I do suspect that power makes bad men even worse. It gives them the tools they crave to impose their wills, and becomes an opportunity for them to acquire the sense of importance they think they deserve. For some, the craving for greater and greater influence becomes like a sort of addiction to feed their vanity.

And yet we still so often admire power, we still think it somehow worthy, and we still wish to possess it for ourselves, forgetting that it is in itself of no real merit at all. It is the character of the man who wields it that will make it good or evil, and so I am well advised to pay far greater attention to building virtue than acquiring power. 

Written in 9/2015

IMAGE: Alphonse Mucha, Nero Watching the Fire of Rome (1887) 

Epictetus, Golden Sayings 33

Do you know what a speck you are in comparison with the Universe?

That is, with respect to the body; since with respect to Reason, you are not inferior to the Gods, nor less than they. 

For the greatness of Reason is not measured by length or height, but by the resolves of the mind. 

Place then your happiness in that wherein you are equal to the Gods.

Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 7.37

It is a base thing for the countenance to be obedient and to regulate and compose itself as the mind commands, and for the mind not to be regulated and composed by itself.

—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, Book 7 (tr Long)

It will be of little use to me if I can control my bearing, my expressions, or my passions, if my very thinking has no right measure by which to exercise that control. A nice smile on a pretty face means nothing without charity behind it, and a clever power of words is empty without wisdom to guide it. What is a mastery of manners if it lacks a conscience?

An analogy I have sometimes found helpful is that an obedient and well-drilled army is worthless without a good general at its head.

When we were all younger, we surely heard people say, “Control yourself!” That is certainly good advice, especially in a day and age where children have few limits, and so will then continue acting out as adults. But it is not enough to simply control how I appear. I must also learn to use sound judgment, the power of determining the true from the false, and posses a moral compass, the power of pointing to good instead of evil. Control over the outside of me will only matter if I also have control over the inside of me.

Consider that a man can appear as a perfect gentleman, while being a complete scoundrel in his heart and mind.

The most charming and committed person I have ever known was also the most thoughtless and uncaring person I have ever known. I have crossed paths with people who wear the finest clothes and say all the right things, but who are really liars, thieves, and users. Wolves in sheep’s clothing, indeed. A pleasant demeanor can cover up a rotten soul, but only for so long. We wonder why we were fooled so easily, but it was just because we were looking at the wrong part of a person.

I have long struggled with the practice of self-discipline, and I suspect that a part of my problem is attending to externals at the neglect of internals. I have been worried about the consequences, without paying attention to the cause. I have tried to regulate what I am doing, without having a good reason for why I might be doing it. I have vainly concerned myself with how I am perceived, instead of what is actually going on in my own thinking.

I have attempted to subject myself to a rule, without knowing the nature of the rule, to be mastered without being the master.

I can indeed build up the habit of disciplining my conduct, but this will be a wasted effort without the habit of disciplining my character. 

Written in 12/2007

Epictetus, Golden Sayings 32

What then is the chastisement of those who accept it not? To be as they are.

Is anyone discontented with being alone? Let him be in solitude. Is anyone discontented with his parents? Let him be a bad son, and lament. Is anyone discontented with his children? Let him be a bad father.

"Throw him into prison!" What prison? Where he is already, for he is there against his will, and wherever a man is against his will, that to him is a prison.

Thus Socrates was not in prison, since he was there with his own consent.

Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 7.36

From Antisthenes:

It is royal to do good and to be abused.

—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, Book 7 (tr Long)

Once again, this is the sort of saying that raises eyebrows and gets you crossed off the invite list for parties.

It would indeed be foolish to desire or prefer abuse, but what is truly noble is the willingness to do what is right and good even when, and especially when, one faces disapproval and opposition for doing so.

The merit of any action proceeds not only from what is done, but also from the conditions under which it is done, and from the reasons why it is done. Morality, in this sense, is more than a set of rules to blindly follow; it is the relationship of a deliberate intention for the sake of a worthy goal. 

For this reason, the politician who smiles at you may not be kind at all, if he only does so to get your vote. The businessman who donates his money may not be charitable at all, if he only does so to get a break on his taxes. The priest who gives a good sermon may not be pious at all, if he only does so to be revered.

The true test of virtue is rather to practice integrity, commitment, fairness, or moderation for their own sake, and nothing beyond that. There is a reason we say that a good deed is its own reward, because the dignity of choice and action requires nothing beyond itself to be complete. Whether there are any further consequences that may be convenient, or profitable, or advantageous need not enter into our thinking. It is enough for happiness to have lived well.

This is especially true if conscience meets an obstacle. Perhaps my choices will clash with dismissal, rejection, ridicule, or downright hatred. Perhaps my actions will mean losing my wealth, my influence, my comfort, or even my life. If it must be so, I must let it be so, and I should embrace such burdens with grace and good will. It is a small price to pay with my circumstances for the state of my own soul, as the value of what I do is far greater than the value of what is done to me.

I will recognize the virtuous man as being noble, as being royal, as even being divine, when he continues to do what is right in the face of what is wrong, and when he is willing to treat others well, even when they treat him poorly.

Antisthenes was a student of Socrates, and is often considered the first of the Cynic philosophers. His words may seem odd to the man who defines himself by his status, but they are a pleasant encouragement to the man who defines himself by his character. 

Written in 11/2007

Epictetus, Golden Sayings 31

You are impatient and hard to please. 

If alone, you call it solitude. 

If in the company of men, you dub them conspirators and thieves, and find fault with your very parents, children, brothers, and neighbors. 

Whereas when by yourself you should have called it Tranquillity and Freedom, and herein deemed yourself like unto the Gods. 

And when in the company of many, you should not have called it a wearisome crowd and tumult, but an assembly and a tribunal, and thus accepted all with contentment. 

REPOST: The Only Two-by-Four You'll Ever Need. . .

There was a request to repost this brief reflection, so here it is!

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I was once asked by a parent what I thought the most important things any students, at any age, needed to learn. I think I was expected to give the usual noble but vague statements about finding themselves, or preparing them for the journey of life, or helping them to be successful, but I immediately said that there were two sets of four principles I would like them to learn. This brought on a double-take.

The poor fellow's jaw dropped when I simply listed them.

"I'm convinced that a person who truly understands the Four Causes can solve any intellectual problem, and that a person who truly understands the Four Cardinal Virtues can solve any moral problem. He is now set up to live."

I really wasn't trying to be facetious, and I meant it from the bottom of my heart. What else could really matter than both thinking rightly and living rightly?

The Four Causes arise in the Aristotelian, or Peripatetic, tradition, but they are in many ways a culmination of all Ancient thought. If I ask the question "why" something is the way it is, I need to consider four different aspects.

The efficient cause asks where something came from, or what brought it about. It's about agency.

The material cause asks what something is made of, what the parts or components of something are. It's about the building blocks.

The formal cause asks what something is in its identity, how all those parts are put together. It's about the structure.

The final cause asks where something is going, the end for which it is ordered. It's about the purpose.

Think of a house. The efficient causes are the architect and the builders. The material causes are the lumber, cement, plaster, pipes, or wiring. The formal cause is the blueprints and the way all the materials are put together. The final cause is to give someone a place to live.

Notice how often we confuse these different aspects of causality in life.

"He made me do it!" No, he pushed your buttons, but you made a choice. He was the material cause, but your were your own efficient cause.

"I'm not guilty of stealing, because I did it to pay my bills!" Good grief. What you did, the formal cause, isn't justified in this case because of the purpose you did it for, the final cause.

I can only make sense of my world if I can unravel why it works the way it does, and I believe that the Four Causes, and their proper use, are the most important tools we have to do so.

The Four Cardinal Virtues originate from the Platonic, or Academic, tradition, but once again, they are in many ways a culmination of all Ancient thought. How should I live my life? What should guide my choices? Look at what makes us human beings, and we will see what aspects of our nature we need to perfect.

I am a being ruled by a mind. The ability to distinguish true from false, good from bad, is the virtue of prudence.

I am a being with passions and desires. The ability to control, order, and direct my passions is the virtue of temperance.

I am a being of drive and aggression. The ability to control, order, and direct my aggression is the virtue of fortitude.

I am a being who lives with others. The ability to respect both myself and others, to give each their deserved rights and dignity, is the virtue of justice.

 A machine is functioning properly when all the parts are working together in harmony. Now a man is hardly a machine, because he can think and decide, but he too must have all his parts working together in harmony, through his own thought and choice. Consider the aspect of life that must be improved, and work upon that specific power of the soul.

By all means, express these principles using the terms of a different school, or the values of a different culture. Many philosophers, and narrow or smug people in general, like to miss the forest for the trees, mainly because they just like arguing and looking important. There's a good reason the Golden Rule is universal, and there's a good reason the Four Causes and the Four Cardinal Virtues are universal as well. They are hardwired by Nature.

Whenever I am asked to teach anyone anything, from changing a light bulb to writing a term paper, from working at a job to dealing with the deepest worries of life, I return back to these ideals, the only two-by-four you'll ever need.

Written in 4/2001

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