Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 10.2

Observe what your nature requires, so far as you are governed by Nature only; then do it and accept it, if your nature, so far as you are a living being, shall not be made worse by it.

And next you must observe what your nature requires so far as you are a living being, and all this you may allow yourself, if your nature, so far as you are a rational animal, shall not be made worse by it.

But the rational animal is consequently also a political and social animal.

Use these rules, then, and trouble yourself about nothing else.

—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, Book 10.2 (tr Long)

There are all these layers upon layers upon layers that masquerade as self-identity. Look at my job, or at my résumé, or at my bank account, or at my beautiful and successful wife, or at my bright and gifted children, or at my powerful and brilliant friends. Look at all the worldly achievements, and all the reflections of my influence, which I can then post on social media, and they will make me look even better than I already was before.

Peel it all away. It has nothing to do with me at all. It is all about the appearance of me, and the selfish gratification it gives me, making me believe that I am now suddenly a someone.

Strip it all away. What is left? A being who is no different than any other of the billions now walking this earth, a being who will die like all the billions who have died before me, and a being who will be no better or worse in the end because of all the glamor and glitter.

Go straight to the core of it. I am not the sum of my externals, but the sum of my own content. What do I actually have left?

Ask only one question: what makes me a human being? If I have no answer, I am already up the proverbial creek without a paddle.

I can offer no precise count, so this can hardly be what our wardens call “scientific”, but of the thousands of people I have come to know over these many years, maybe only a few hundred would even offer any sort of answer at all. I find it interesting that it was usually the most unassuming and unappreciated folks who could make a case for why they were here. The rest sank into platitudes, deeply worried that their illusions would somehow be shattered.

What does my nature demand? To understand who I am, and why I am here. I have many bodily gifts, but my mental gifts distinguish me as being distinctly human. Reason and will define my essence, and it isn’t just about having those powers, but about how I decide to employ them. This means I am ordered to respecting all truth in this world, and to practicing sincere love in this world.

What does my nature allow? To desire and pursue anything that virtue permits, but to turn away from anything that virtue prohibits. Perhaps I desire riches, or perhaps I desire poverty. Perhaps I want to be in company, or perhaps I want to be alone. Perhaps I choose to be a king, or perhaps I choose to be a carpenter. Let me prefer whatever I wish, but I must always demand that this be subservient to my task of being human.

What does my nature tell me about living with others? To remember that I am inseparable from the whole. Every man is my brother, and every woman is my sister, not necessarily by blood, but by purpose. Once I have sold out or abandoned any single one of my brothers or sisters, I have sold out my own humanity.

They pay big money to politicians for making certain sorts of laws, and more big money to lawyers for making nonsense of them, and even more big money to businessmen to reap a profit from them. None of this is necessary. The deeper laws of human nature are quite clear, simple, and beautiful. They are not imposed on us, being already within us. No one needs to make power and money from them, because power and money are not what we need.  A sense of truth and love is what we need.

Written in 1/2009

Dhammapada 46

He who knows that this body is like froth, and has learned that it is as unsubstantial as a mirage, will break the flower-pointed arrow of Mara, the tempter, and never see the king of death. 

Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 10.1

Will you, then, my soul, never be good and simple and one and naked, more manifest than the body that surrounds you?

Will you never enjoy an affectionate and contented disposition? Will you never be full and without a want of any kind, longing for nothing more, nor desiring anything, either animate or inanimate, for the enjoyment of pleasures? Nor yet desiring time wherein you shall have longer enjoyment, or place, or pleasant climate, or society of men with whom you may live in harmony?

But will you be satisfied with your present condition, and pleased with all that is about you, and will you convince yourself that you have everything, and that it comes from the gods, that everything is well for you, and will be well whatever shall please them, and whatever they shall give for the conservation of the Perfect Living Being, the good and just and beautiful, which generates and holds together all things, and contains and embraces all things which are dissolved for the production of other like things?

Will you never be such that you shall so dwell in community with gods and men as neither to find fault with them at all, nor to be condemned by them?

—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, Book 10.1 (tr Long)

Notice how many of the things we say make us happy are things we do not yet possess, but hope that we one day might.

Notice how our chances of possessing them depend so largely on the odds of circumstance, and on the whims of others.

Notice how even if we do manage to come into contact with them, our hold on them is always tenuous, and we are prone to losing them at any given moment.

That sounds more like a way of assuring that I will be miserable instead of happy! I have often found that a sure-fire sign of someone who is quite unhappy is that he will be restless, and angry, and unkind to his fellows; if that describes a big sweeps of my own life, I clearly haven’t been doing it right.

So I wonder why I have overlooked the most obvious solution, that I already have within me everything I need to be happy, and that I do not have to conquer anything else.

Then my anxiety slips away, and so my resentment fades, and so I no longer have to be hateful to the people I should love. I can then be just, because I am not confusing the struggle of wanting more with the contentment of needing less.

Stoic thinking can be quite profound in theory, but the actual application of Stoic living is a truly powerful tool. I have often been mesmerized by people who speak so well, and present themselves with such confidence and charm, even as the lives they live are really no different from being the usual slaves to pleasure, reputation, or wages. A Stoic Turn might not be appealing to everyone, but it most certainly can’t be merely cosmetic; it requires cutting right to the bone.

I now squirm a little when I hear that usual mantra: “Work to get the things you want, so that one day you can be happy!” No, I should work with the natural gifts I already have, and be happy right now, at this very moment, whatever situations I have faced, am now facing, or may eventually face.

Nothing outside of me is ever guaranteed, and no year, month, day, or even hour in the future is ever guaranteed. What is, however, absolutely guaranteed is the option to know the truth, love the good, and revel in the beautiful, right here and now.

Only then, in harmony with Nature, with Nature’s God, and with all of my neighbors, have I achieved anything certain, and only then have I moved beyond longing, conflict, and blame. This will manifest itself in small and unassuming ways, and has no need to overwhelm or impress. It is never necessary for any one man to fail so that another man can gain.

It all requires a complete rebuilding of what I consider a win or a loss, a benefit or a harm; there is no failure if I do not fail my own calling to character.

Written in 1/2009

Epictetus, Golden Sayings 89

A money changer may not reject Caesar's coin, nor may the seller of herbs, but must, when once the coin is shown, deliver what is sold for it, whether he will or no. 

So is it also with the Soul. Once the Good appears, it attracts towards itself; evil repels. But a clear and certain impression of the Good the Soul will never reject, any more than men do Caesar's coin. On this hangs every impulse alike of Man and God. 

Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 9.42.2

. . . Consider whether you should not rather blame yourself, because you did not expect such a man to err in such a way. For you had means given you by your reason to suppose that it was likely that he would commit this error, and yet you have forgotten and are amazed that he has erred.

But most of all when you blame a man as faithless or ungrateful, turn to yourself. For the fault is manifestly your own, whether you did trust that a man who had such a disposition would keep his promise, or when conferring your kindness you did not confer it absolutely, nor yet in such way as to have received from your very act all the profit.

For what more do you want when you have done a man a service? Are you not content that you have done something conformable to your nature, and do you seek to be paid for it?

It is just as if the eye demanded a recompense for seeing, or the feet for walking. For as these members are formed for a particular purpose, and by working according to their several constitutions obtain what is their own, so also as man is formed by Nature to acts of benevolence. When he has done anything benevolent or in any other way conducive to the common interest, he has acted conformably to his constitution, and he gets what is his own.

—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, Book 9.42 (tr Long)

If, as a child, I chose to associate with those of my peers who mocked, ridiculed, and bullied one another, should I not have expected that I would then find myself sad, discouraged, and alone? Even at such a tender age, I could have seen immediately what I was getting into.

“The friends you choose reflect who you are,” my betters told me, and I didn’t pay enough attention to that. It wasn’t the fault of spoiled and vicious children, but of my own foolishness. They would be who they would be, but I made myself miserable.

If, as a young man, I chose to fall deeply in love with a girl who was dishonest, disloyal, and dismissive from the very beginning, should I not have expected a broken heart? Even though I was fired up by passion, I could have seen immediately what I was getting into.

“Find a kind woman, however humble she may seem, knowing that you can trust her,” my betters told me, and I didn’t pay enough attention to that. It wasn’t the fault of someone whose blood ran cold, but of my own choice not to think clearly. She would be who she would be, but I had dug my own grave.

If, as a grown man, I chose to follow a professional path filled with poseurs and players, should I not have expected to fail when I tried to engage them on their terms? Even as I told myself I was driven by principles, I was really just being a submissive follower.

“Don’t worry whether your trade makes you rich in money or fame, but worry whether your trade makes you rich in happiness and character,” my betters told me, and I didn’t pay enough attention to that. It wasn’t the fault of manipulators, but of letting myself be manipulated. They would be who they would be, but I painted myself into a corner.

If others act so poorly, it is so easy to blame them for my own loss; yet who they are is nothing I have any control over, even as I have complete control over myself. The finger is pointed in entirely the wrong direction.

My error lies in expecting something beyond my own excellence, to make my dignity depend upon some reward beyond living well for its own sake. Does the approval of friends, or conquest in romance, or success in any career make me any better? Not in the least. I am better by what I have done rightly, within itself, asking for nothing other than that as the most perfect reward.

As soon as I worked to be liked, loved, or important in the world, I was working against myself.

Eyes are made for seeing, and feet are made for walking, and men are made for virtue. This is apparent by simply examining the essence of what these parts are, revealing their purpose within the whole. Let a foot be a foot, and a man be a man. That is all that is required.

Written in 12/2008

Thomas a Kempis, The Imitation of Christ 1.18

Of the example of the Holy Fathers

1. Consider now the lively examples of the holy fathers, in whom shone forth real perfectness and religion, and you shall see how little, even as nothing, is all that we do. Ah! What is our life when compared to theirs? They, saints and friends of Christ as they were, served the Lord in hunger and thirst, in cold and nakedness, in labour and weariness, in watchings and fastings, in prayer and holy meditations, in persecutions and much rebuke.

2. O how many and grievous tribulations did the Apostles, Martyrs, Confessors, Virgins, endure; and all others who would walk in the footsteps of Christ. For they hated their souls in this world that they might keep them unto life eternal. O how strict and retired a life was that of the holy fathers who dwelt in the desert! What long and grievous temptations they did suffer! How often were they assaulted by the enemy! What frequent and fervid prayers did they offer unto God! What strict fasts did they endure! What fervent zeal and desire after spiritual profit did they manifest! How bravely did they fight that their vices might not gain the mastery! How entirely and steadfastly did they reach after God! By day they labored, and at night they gave themselves oftentimes unto prayer; yea, even when they were laboring they ceased not from mental prayer.

3. They spent their whole time profitably; every hour seemed short for retirement with God; and through the great sweetness of contemplation, even the need of bodily refreshment was forgotten. They renounced all riches, dignities, honors, friends, kinsmen; they desired nothing from the world; they ate the bare necessaries of life; they were unwilling to minister to the body even in necessity. Thus were they poor in earthly things, but rich above measure in grace and virtue. Though poor to the outer eye, within they were filled with grace and heavenly benedictions.

4. They were strangers to the world, but unto God they were as kinsmen and friends. They seemed unto themselves as of no reputation, and in the world's eyes contemptible; but in the sight of God they were precious and beloved. They stood fast in true humility, they lived in simple obedience, they walked in love and patience; and thus they waxed strong in spirit, and obtained great favor before God. To all religious men they were given as an example, and they ought more to provoke us unto good livings than the number of the lukewarm tempt us to carelessness of life.

5. O how great was the love of all religious persons at the beginning of this sacred institution! O what devoutness of prayer! What rivalry in holiness! What strict discipline was observed! What reverence and obedience under the rule of the master showed they in all things! The traces of them that remain until now testify that they were truly holy and perfect men, who fighting so bravely trod the world underfoot. Now a man is counted great if only he is not a transgressor, and if he can only endure with patience what he has undertaken.

6. O the coldness and negligence of our times, that we so quickly decline from the former love, and it is become a weariness to live, because of sloth and lukewarmness. May progress in holiness not wholly fall asleep in you, who many times has seen so many examples of devout men!

More Revenge

Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 9.42.1

When you are offended with any man's shameless conduct, immediately ask yourself, Is it possible, then, that shameless men should not be in the world? It is not possible.

Do not, then, require what is impossible. For this man also is one of those shameless men who must of necessity be in the world. Let the same considerations be present to your mind in the case of the knave, and the faithless man, and of every man who does wrong in any way.

For at the same time that you do remind yourself that it is impossible that such kind of men should not exist, you will become more kindly disposed towards every one individually.

It is useful to perceive this, too, immediately when the occasion arises, what virtue Nature has given to man to oppose to every wrongful act. For she has given to man, as an antidote against the stupid man, mildness, and against another kind of man some other power.

And in all cases it is possible for you to correct by teaching the man who is gone astray, for every man who errs misses his object and is gone astray.

Besides, wherein have you been injured? For you will find that no one among those against whom you are irritated has done anything by which your mind could be made worse; but that which is evil to you and harmful has its foundation only in the mind.

And what harm is done or what is there strange, if the man who has not been instructed does the acts of an uninstructed man? . . .

—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, Book 9.42 (tr Long)

I should never be surprised at how truly vicious people can be, just as I should never be surprised at how truly virtuous people can be. The reason for both of these is one and the same. If a creature is endowed with reason, it is also endowed with choice, and its actions will proceed not merely from the force of instinct, but from the freedom of its own judgments. Where there is awareness, all forms of character will be possible.

Knowing that people will think in all sorts of ways, however true or false they may be, also means knowing that people will live in all sorts of ways, however right or wrong they may me. I notice we are sometimes expected to express shock or disbelief at the depths of depravity or the heights of nobility, but these are to be expected as a necessary expression of a Nature charged with consciousness.

If I can understand this, I can also begin to consider why people will decide upon certain paths, and this in turn will help me show them compassion instead of condemnation. Once I become more familiar with the why, I will not be quite so offended by the what. However terrible it may be, don’t I see that I could just as easily be making the exact same mistake? Would I not then prefer to be helped rather than harmed?

Nature is ordered such that from any state of affairs, however painful or frightening it may appear, there is always the possibility of transforming it into something truly good. As one of those creatures of reason and choice, I am constantly called to pursue that option. I may feel discouraged when I see how much wrong people do, but there are so many ways to turn it all into a right.

I can always respond to any evil by simply doing what is good. Nature has already given me all the tools I need for this, and whatever the circumstances may be, it is never beyond my power to think and act with virtue. Has someone told a lie? Let me tell the truth. Has someone acted unjustly? Let me reply with justice. Has someone spilled out his hatred? Let me remedy it with love.

I can always help someone else choose to become better, by sharing with him the truth as I have experienced it, by serving as a humble example, or by simply offering friendship and understanding. It is not my place to live another man’s life for him, as only he can to do that, but it is my responsibility to encourage and support his own efforts to live well.

I can always remember that any evil done by another does not really affect the inside of me at all, unless I choose to let it do so by my own disordered thinking. We are often so busy listing everything that is wrong with the world, while failing to recognize that the solution is in embracing what is right in ourselves. If it is hurting me within my soul, influencing me in any way beyond external conditions, that hurt is from my own fault.

How beautiful it is that anything intended to hurt me can only help me to become better! When I am confronted with yet more wickedness, I am able to exercise even greater strength of character; the practice will help me to become more perfect.

Written in 12/2008

Tao Te Ching 31

Now arms, however beautiful, are instruments of evil omen, hateful, it may be said, to all creatures. Therefore they who have the Tao do not like to employ them.

The superior man ordinarily considers the left hand the most honorable place, but in time of war the right hand. Those sharp weapons are instruments of evil omen, and not the instruments of the superior man—he uses them only on the compulsion of necessity. 

Calm and repose are what he prizes; victory by force of arms is to him undesirable. To consider this desirable would be to delight in the slaughter of men, and he who delights in the slaughter of men cannot get his will in the kingdom.

On occasions of festivity to be on the left hand is the prized position; on occasions of mourning, the right hand. 

The second in command of the army has his place on the left; the general commanding in chief has his on the right—his place, that is, is assigned to him as in the rites of mourning. 

He who has killed multitudes of men should weep for them with the bitterest grief, and the victor in battle has his place rightly according to those rites.

Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 9.41

Epicurus says, “In my sickness my conversation was not about my bodily sufferings, nor,” says he, “did I talk on such subjects to those who visited me; but I continued to discourse on the nature of things as before, keeping to this main point, how the mind, while participating in such movements as go on in the poor flesh, shall be free from perturbations and maintain its proper good.”

“Nor did I,” he says, “give the physicians an opportunity of putting on solemn looks, as if they were doing something great, but my life went on well and happily.”

Do, then, the same that he did both in sickness, if you are sick, and in any other circumstances. For never to desert philosophy in any events that may befall us, nor to hold trifling talks either with an ignorant man or with one unacquainted with Nature, is a principle of all schools of philosophy; but to be intent only on that which you are now doing and on the instrument by which you do it.

—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, Book 9.41 (tr Long)

How absolutely wonderful!

Philosophers of different schools often seem to find great pleasure in bickering with one another about the pettiest of distinctions. In fact, philosophers of the very same school seem to do this even more, condemning those who should be their dearest friends, with all the spite they can muster.

What does that tell us about their real values, and their real intentions?

Yet here we have Marcus Aurelius, a follower of the school of Stoicism, finding merit in the words of Epicurus, the founder of Stoicism’s greatest rival school. The man shows that he is truly a man, not a posturing ideologue; truth is truth, wherever it may be found, and charity is charity, whoever we may meet. I find that example deeply inspiring.

Marcus Aurelius and Epicurus may disagree on the order and priority of virtue and pleasure, or on the specific forces by which Nature operates, but they find common ground on how the good life will be able to rise above all the diversions of circumstance.

What may come my way? I may feel taken down by pain, or lifted up by pleasure, or concerned with my health and appearance, or anxious about my possessions, or in fear of my enemies, or desperate to satisfy my friends. Different situations will come to me at different times, in new and surprising ways, often when least expected. One impression after another will dance before me, and each will exert a pull on my attention.

What may I be tempted to do? I may wish to reach out and define myself by each of these events. I may want to make absolutely everything about what is merely something, using those that I consider convenient as a means to glorify myself, and those that I consider inconvenient as a means to cast blame on the world. Sometimes I will try to brag and strut about, and sometimes I will try to complain and play the victim. I may want to be a player, but I am really only letting myself be played.

What should I actually be doing? I should be accepting the things that happen to me for what they are, however beneficial or harmful they may appear, and direct my efforts to the purpose of what I, in turn, can choose to do. Anything right or wrong in it will only follow from my own understanding of what is true and my own love of what is good. I will only be confused or led astray by what I decide is important. A focused mind will live with suffering, and disease, and poverty, and loneliness, and pettiness, but it will not be determined by these states.

Please do not confuse this with any sort of heartless or dismissive toughness; it is rather a peace and tranquility that comes from being able to distinguish what is more important from what is less important.

Though we may hardly notice it if we wander into the halls of academia, philosophy is a far more noble, uplifting, and absolutely necessary vocation than merely presenting an image, or manipulating conditions, or coming across as the victor in some conflict. What all true philosophers share in common is also what all good people share in common, an absolute dedication to living well above all else, never permitting lower distractions from interfering with this higher calling.

Written in 12/2008

Sayings of Socrates 4

Wonder is the feeling of a philosopher, and philosophy begins in wonder. 

—Plato, Theaetetus, 155d

Boethius, The Consolation 3.23

“So far,” she continued, “we have been content to set forth the form of false happiness. If you clearly understand that, my next duty is to show what is true happiness.”

“I do see,” said I, “that wealth cannot satisfy, that power comes not to kingdoms, nor veneration to high offices; that true renown cannot accompany ambition, nor true enjoyment wait upon the pleasures of the body.”

“Have you grasped the reasons why it is so?” she asked.

“I seem to look at them as through a narrow chink, but I would learn more clearly from you.”

“The reason is to hand,” said she; “human error takes that which is simple and by nature impossible to divide, tries to divide it, and turns its truth and perfection into falsity and imperfection. Tell me, do you think that anything which lacks nothing, can be without power?”

“Of course not.”

“You are right; for if anything has any weakness in any part, it must lack the help of something else.”

“That is so,” I said.

“Then perfect satisfaction and power have the same nature?”

“Yes, it seems so.”

“And do you think such a thing contemptible, or the opposite, worthy of all veneration?”

'There can be no doubt that it is worthy.”

“Then let us add veneration to that satisfaction and power, and so consider these three as one.”

“Yes, we must add it if we wish to proclaim the truth.”

“Do you then think that this whole is dull and of no reputation, or renowned with all glory? For consider it thus: we have granted that it lacks nothing, that it has all power and is worthy of all veneration; it must not therefore lack the glory which it cannot supply for itself, and thereby seem to be in any direction contemptible.”

“No,” I said, “I must allow that it has glory too.”

“Therefore we must rank this glory equally with the other three.”

“Yes, we must.”

“Then that which lacks nothing from outside itself, which is all-powerful by its own might, which has renown and veneration, must surely be allowed to be most happy too?”

“I cannot imagine from what quarter unhappiness would creep into such a thing, wherefore we must grant that it is full of happiness if the other qualities remain existent.”

“Then it follows further, that though perfect satisfaction, power, glory, veneration, and happiness differ in name, they cannot differ at all in essence?”

“They cannot.” . . .

—from Book 3, Prose 9

I find my mind returning, time and time again, to how readily we will all run around in this life without any precise understanding of what that very life is made for. Being clueless, we are therefore aimless. We acquire all sorts of knowledge and skill about this or that profession, while overlooking insight into that highest vocation, that of simply being human.

I do it as much as the next man, and I can hardly say that this is simply because I have been given a bad example. No, I can only blame my own laziness in taking what appears to be the easiest route, looking for clever shortcuts to happiness, and pursuing what most tugs at my desire for immediate gratification.

The irony is that I think I am making it simpler for myself, when in fact I am making it far more complex than it has to be. Instead of seeking that one end, that which is most worthy and contains all others goods within it, I fracture the good into many tiny little bits.

I should be seeking that priceless jewel, but I am filling my pockets with assorted trinkets. I should be hunting the biggest game, but I’m scrambling up trees after squirrels.

If I go about asking all the people I meet what they think they might need to be happy, I will be thought of as an annoying gadfly, a no-good troublemaker much like that Socrates, a loose cannon. Yet that really is the most important question, isn’t it? Perhaps we become angry when we are asked to answer it because it reveals to us that we really don’t know.

I suppose I have made a feeble attempt at doing precisely this, not just in my years of teaching but also in all aspects of my life, and I can honestly say that I am quite surprised when I have a serious conversation with someone, and they then offer a clear and concise account of why life is worth living. It has happened so rarely that I can remember each and every instance.

The point is not whether they say something that I happen to find agreeable, but that they are willing to reflect upon the question at all. Some dismissive people tell me that other folks are just “stupid”, but I know that isn’t the case; so many are far brighter than I can ever be. I suspect we just aren’t used to pushing ourselves in such a direction, like never using a certain muscle, because we didn’t even know we had it.  

If I push the point, what will I hear about the good life? I affectionately call it the “laundry list”, a series of individual things that often seem to have no connection with one another.

“Well. I’d need enough money to be happy. And be sure that I’ll always have enough money for the future. I want to have lots of fun. I want to have lots of friends. I’d have to be in good health, of course, and stay fit, but not so much that it makes me cranky. It would be great if I had a wonderful job, where I was respected and treated well, knowing I could get a good promotion if I worked hard enough, and that would help with the money thing, and for having more fun. That sounds like a pretty good life!”

Bit after a pause, the list will often continue to grow. “Wait, I need some vacation time, obviously, and it won’t be any good without a smoking-hot wife. It would be nice if she could cook a good meal, too. I would feel better if I was someone important, someone other people looked up to. Kids sound great too, but I would want them to go to the best schools, and I guess it would mean having some extra money for that. . .”

You aren’t alone if you recognize this as an expression of everything Lady Philosophy has warned Boethius about: the scattered pieces, the imperfect reflections of what is perfect, and the replacement of one complete source with many incomplete substitutes.

During a rather dark time in my life, spending yet another holiday alone, a drinking buddy jokingly asked me what I wanted for Christmas. “World peace,” I said sarcastically.

“Would inner peace do the trick?” he asked. Despite how confused we were, there was a fellow that got it, however cynically he was trying to come across.

Why should I look to so many small things, all of which put together amount to so very little, when I should be looking for the one thing that can give all of it meaning and purpose?

If it is truly good, happiness will lack in nothing, without exception, and so it will be the fullness of power.

If it is truly good, happiness will be worthy of respect, without exception, and so it will be the fullness of what is desirable.

If it is truly good, happiness will be most glorious, without exception, and will admit of nothing flawed whatsoever.

And here we are not describing a number of different things, but only aspects of one and the same thing; we are not listing many needs, but pointing to a single need, joined together in essence. Happiness, by its very definition as that which can never be added to, will therefore itself be simple and indivisible.

Written in 9/2015

Ecclesiastes 5:11-15

[11] When goods increase, they increase who eat them; and what gain has their owner but to see them with his eyes?
[12] Sweet is the sleep of a laborer, whether he eats little or much; but the surfeit of the rich will not let him sleep.
[13] There is a grievous evil which I have seen under the sun: riches were kept by their owner to his hurt,
[14] and those riches were lost in a bad venture; and he is father of a son, but he has nothing in his hand.
[15] As he came from his mother's womb he shall go again, naked as he came, and shall take nothing for his toil, which he may carry away in his hand.

Nobility

Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 9.40

Either the gods have no power or they have power. If, then, they have no power, why do you pray to them? But if they have power, why do you not pray for them to give you the faculty of not fearing any of the things that you fear, or of not desiring any of the things that you desire, or not being pained at anything, rather than pray that any of these things should not happen or happen?

 For certainly if they can cooperate with men, they can cooperate for these purposes. But perhaps you will say the gods have placed them in your power. Well, then, is it not better to use what is in your power like a free man than to desire in a slavish and abject way what is not in your power?

 And who has told you that the gods do not aid us, even in the things that are in our power? Begin, then, to pray for such things, and you will see.

One man prays thus: How shall I be able to lie with that woman? You should pray thus: How shall I not desire to lie with her?

Another prays thus: How shall I be released from this? Pray you: How shall I not desire to be released?

Another thus: How shall I not lose my little son? You thus: How shall I not be afraid to lose him?

In the end, turn your prayers this way, and see what comes.

—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, Book 9.40 (tr Long)

I am sometimes quite wary of prayer, the most immediate reason being my own sense of pride. I confuse self-reliance with separation and isolation, failing to understand that ruling myself should always proceed in harmony and cooperation with everything and everyone around me, and especially with what is greater than me. Instead of making me weaker, having the courage to ask for assistance in improving myself can actually be a sign of great courage.

I also allow myself to be discouraged when I see the way many people use prayer, as a means for building their own influence over others. A decent man may tell me that he will pray for me, and I will feel grateful that he desires what is good for me, but a crooked man may tell me that he will pray for me, and I have only the distinct sense that he is looking down at me, showing me how much better he thinks he is.

A bit of clear judgment should, however, help me to discern the difference between a rightful use and a corrupted abuse. Notice, for example, how people will go about offering up prayers. Some ask for an increase in their circumstances, to be given greater power over the world around them. Others, however, will ask instead for the strength to bolster their virtues, to learn a greater power over themselves.

That difference tells us so much about what folks really care about, and how they see their own good in relationship to the good of the whole.

I try not to think of prayer as some magic formula, or as a fancy business transaction, but rather as a means for me to communicate more fully with the Divine, and thereby to understand my place more completely. Prayer can involve speaking, but it requires even more of listening. Prayer can involve asking, but it requires even more of embracing acceptance. It is less about fitting the world to my desires, but about fitting my desires to the world.

If the Divine, however we may understand it or express it, is truly the source, center, and measure of all things, building our relationship with the Divine is hardly a wasted effort. For me, it becomes most critical to consider how that bond should be strengthened. Will it make me better and happier if the external conditions of my life are more convenient, or will it make me better and happier if I can face any and all external conditions with more character? The Stoic, and I also think most any man who seeks holiness, knows the answer right away.

It is better to ask for help in conquering my own fear, than to ask that the things I fear be swept away.

It is better to ask for help in mastering my own passions, than to ask that any temptations disappear.

It is better to ask for help in transforming my own suffering, than to ask for suffering to be removed.

While the former will always allow me more of a chance to be a brave and good man, the latter will only encourage me to be a weak and slavish man. If I want God’s help in being happy, it is best to ask Him to help me to reform myself, not to become lazy or entitled.

I used to resent it when my family told me that “God helps those who help themselves.” I am far more grateful for the advice now.

If I am convinced I already have the power within me to go the distance, then let me pray by being grateful for having received it. If I recognize that I require more conviction and courage, then let me pray that it be increased, knowing that the seed within me must only be cultivated.

If all is One, joined together and ruled by Providence, prayers are not in vain; my own reason and will are simply seeking to fulfill themselves, strengthening the power of their nature through the power of all of Nature.

It only began to make a difference for me, in quite a concrete way, when my practice of prayer was not about changing God or about changing the world, but about changing myself.

Written in 12/2008

IMAGE: Nicolaes Maes, Old Woman at Prayer (c. 1656)

The Art of Peace 20

Always keep your mind as bright and clear as the vast sky, the great ocean, and the highest peak, empty of all thoughts. 

Always keep your body filled with light and heat. Fill yourself with the power of wisdom and enlightenment. 

Rush, "Freewill"

As a reference for Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 9.39:

This classic song can provide a wonderful jumping-off point for a good discussion about freedom and fate, the place of the part within the whole, and how it could ever be possible for a man to be himself in a world ruled by God.

Back when young people still knew who Rush were, I would often give this as a paper assignment, and let them run with their own thoughts on the matter. Peart's lyrics here were inspired by Ayn Rand, but the topic admits of all sorts of themes and variations.

It leads us to that question: "Which will it be? Providence or free will?" It can take some time to appreciate one possible answer, quite a Stoic one, which is simply "Yes."

Rush, "Freewill", from Permanent Waves (1980)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V7bbdIU95zM

There are those who think that life is nothing left to chance,
A host of holy horrors to direct our aimless dance.

A planet of playthings,
We dance on the strings
Of powers we cannot perceive.
"The stars aren't aligned
Or the gods are malign"-
Blame is better to give than receive.

You can choose a ready guide in some celestial voice.
If you choose not to decide, you still have made a choice.
You can choose from phantom fears and kindness that can kill;
I will choose a path that's clear-
I will choose Free Will.

There are those who think that they were dealt a losing hand,
The cards were stacked against them- they weren't born in lotus-land.

All preordained-
A prisoner in chains-
A victim of venomous fate.
Kicked in the face,
You can't pray for a place
In heaven's unearthly estate.

You can choose a ready guide in some celestial voice.
If you choose not to decide, you still have made a choice.
You can choose from phantom fears and kindness that can kill;
I will choose a path that's clear-
I will choose Free Will.

Each of us-
A cell of awareness-
Imperfect and incomplete.
Genetic blends
With uncertain ends
On a fortune hunt that's far too fleet.