When she finished her song, its
soothing tones left me spellbound with my ears alert in my eagerness to listen.
So a while afterwards I said, “Greatest comforter of weary minds, how have you
cheered me with your deep thoughts, and sweet singing too! No more shall I
doubt my power to meet the blows of Fortune. So far am I from terror at the
remedies which you did lately tell me were sharper, that I am longing to hear
them, and eagerly I beg you for them.”
Then she said, “I knew it when you laid
hold upon my words in silent attention, and I was waiting for that frame of
mind in you, or more truly, I brought it about in you. They that remain are
indeed bitter to the tongue, but sweet to the inner man. But as you say you are
eager to hear, how ardently you would be burning, if you knew where I am
attempting to lead you!”
“Where is that?” I asked.
“To the true happiness, of which your
soul too dreams; but your sight is taken up in imaginary views of it, so that
you cannot look upon itself.”
Then said I, “I pray you show me what
that truly is, and quickly.”
“I will do so,” she said, “for your
sake willingly. But first I will try to picture in words and give you the form
of the cause, which is already better known to you, that so, when that picture
is perfect and you turn your eyes to the other side, you may recognize the form
of true happiness.”
—from
Book 3, Prose 1
I find
another transition of sorts here, a shift from considering how I should view
myself in the face of Fortune to a deeper examination of the true origin of
happiness. Boethius has learned that he should not rely on the circumstances
around him, but should rather seek the wisdom and virtue within him. Now what
actually constitutes such a strength of inner character? Where is one to look
to find its source? Even as so much in our world seems fickle and unreliable,
what can be constant and trusted?
Having
seen how the ebb and flow of Fortune is not the measure of happiness, it is now
time to find comfort in the order of Nature.
We will
all agree that happiness is surely a good thing, yet I can’t help but think
that we are often only running after little bits of it here and there, much
like a mouse scampering about, picking up crumbs under the table, completely
oblivious to the banquet above.
When we
are asked what happiness is, most of us will answer with a list of desirable
things, but what is it that these things really share in common, and what is it
that makes them good? If we consider them worthy of our attention, from where
do they receive that worth?
So I may
wander about, with my head hung down, looking at this or that beneath me, when
I might be better served by looking up.
The
prisoners in Plato’s Cave were captivated by the images right in front of their
eyes, but they did not consider where these images came from, or what sort of
reality stood behind them. Someone who has looked beyond the immediacy of what
is appealing to the senses and desires may describe a whole different world out
there, of which the images are just pale shadows, but the prisoners would
hardly know what he is talking about. Because they choose not to reflect upon
what things means, they will have no frame of reference.
Even
Boethius, as educated as he was in the study of philosophy, will apparently
need to be introduced to the true form of happiness in stages. Lady Philosophy
will begin with what is more familiar to him, and then gradually proceed to an
awareness of the complete and perfect source.
When I
have been in the dark for too long, my eyes will need time to adjust to the
light. It isn’t that the light is too bright, but that my eyes have been
deprived of it, and must again become accustomed to receiving its rays. This is
why any effective teacher I have ever had always moved me along by steady
degrees.
There is
little point in going straight to the conclusion, since it will make no sense
without the preceding argument. We can only get to what is further away by
starting with what is closer, moving from the proximate to the ultimate.
Boethius,
like every one of us, is still learning to fly.
Written in 9/2015
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