Boethius, The Consolation 3.34

“Come hither all who are the prey of passions,

 bound by their ruthless chains;

those deceiving passions which blunt the minds of men.

 Here shall you find rest from your labors;

here a haven lying in tranquil peace;

this shall be a resting-place

open to receive within itself all the miserable on earth.

Not all the wealth of Tagus's golden sands,

nor Hermus' gleaming strand,

nor Indus, nigh earth's hottest zone,

mingling its emeralds and pearls,

can bring light to the eyes of any soul,

but rather plunge the soul more blindly in their shade.

In her deepest caverns does earth rear

 all that pleases the eye and excites the mind.

The glory by which the heavens move and have their being,

has nothing to do with the darknesses that bring ruin to the soul.

Whosoever can look on this true light

will scarce allow the sun's rays to be clear.”

—from Book 3, Poem 10

To think of the Divine as an abstraction, as some wonderful concept somewhere up there in the sky, has sadly never been helpful for me. Perhaps the weakness is within myself, but I have failed to find comfort in anything “up there”, while I must still try to make sense of what is going on “down here”.

Maybe I should stop breaking things apart, dividing the theory and the practice, and finally discover a sense of unity.

In desiring happiness, I am seeking something complete, absolutely reliable, and lacking in nothing. I long for contentment, peace, and certainty. Now what could possibly fulfill this desperate need? I try vainly, as Pascal so wisely said, to fill an infinite hole with finite things.

And then I wonder why I am still so miserable, even as I must pretend to be quite satisfied. It would be embarrassing to admit I was wrong, and unseemly to lose face with my neighbors. Most of us are playing a clever game.

Yet I can begin right here and now with what I can see before me, the evidence of all creatures, and then I can also see with equal clarity what makes all these creatures what they are. Perfect Being is immediately present in all beings, not removed from them at all. It may well be transcendent, but it is also immanent.

“But I can’t see God!” Of course you can, just as you can see me through the medium of your eyes, or you can hear me through the medium of your ears. Most importantly, you can know it through the medium of your mind, the sharpest and mightiest of your powers.

Where there are changing effects, there is an unchanging cause. Where there are degrees, there is an absolute. Where there is the deepest desire, there is the perfect object of that desire. All the things that once appeared to be so great will suddenly no longer appear so great.

“I wish to be gratified!” How well, may I ask with all due respect, has that worked out for you? You honestly know that you are still missing something after you have eaten all you want, made as much money as you can imagine, and played all of your games of power and sex. When those things are done, you still want more, and more, and more.

So I choose to look to follow the best. Nothing lesser should distract me, and any attention should be directed to the light itself, not to the shadow.

“But how can I possibly find that?” Look through things, back to what underlies those things. The Absolute is not obscure, but quite apparent. Everything else will pale in comparison. The bits and pieces of the world begin to appear rather dull when compared to their brilliant source.

Written in 9/2015

Dhammapada 54

The scent of flowers does not travel against the wind, nor that of sandalwood, or of Tagara and Mallika flowers.

But the odor of good people travels even against the wind; a good man pervades every place. 

Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 11.6

At first, tragedies were brought on the stage as means of reminding men of the things that happen to them, and that it is according to Nature for things to happen so, and that, if you are delighted with what is shown on the stage, you should not be troubled with that which takes place on the larger stage.

For you see that these things must be accomplished thus, and that even they bear them who cry out, "O Cithaeron!" And, indeed, some things are said well by the dramatic writers, of which kind is the following especially:

"Me and my children if the gods neglect,

This has its reason too."

And again,

"We must not chafe and fret at that which happens."

And,

"Life's harvests reap like the wheat's fruitful ear."

And other things of the same kind.

After tragedy, the old comedy was introduced, which had a magisterial freedom of speech, and by its very plainness of speaking was useful in reminding men to beware of insolence; and for this purpose too Diogenes used to take from these writers.

But as to the middle comedy, which came next, observe what it was, and again, for what object the new comedy was introduced, which gradually sank down into a mere mimic artifice. That some good things are said even by these writers, everybody knows; but the whole plan of such poetry and dramaturgy, to what end does it look?

—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, Book 11.6 (tr Long)

I can hardly speak with any authority on the historical development of ancient Greek and Roman drama, though I can certainly relate quite well to how the skillful telling of a story can have a profound effect on our thinking. Tragedy and comedy allow us to consider both the rising and falling of fortune in life respectively, and can help us to understand what we are to make of such circumstances, how we choose to relate to the force of events.

It isn’t just a question of the text being sad or funny, or whether things end poorly or end well. A good story, in whatever form it is told, will teach us something about ourselves, and hopefully encourage us to walk away slightly wiser, and slightly better.

This is especially important from a Stoic perspective, where the interplay between what happens to us and our own choices about what happens to us is so crucial. Hopefully we learn that the value of our lives will follow from the content of our character, whatever the world may or may not give to us.

Perhaps because it was the first play I read through all on my own, Oedipus Rex has long had a powerful effect on me. At first, it seemed to me that Oedipus was just a victim of terrible fate, and that all I could do was have compassion for his suffering, perhaps hoping also that such a thing should never happen to me.

Yet as I looked more closely, I saw that his suffering has come precisely from his own choices and actions. In vainly assuming that he had it within his power to control fate, he himself became the very vehicle of that fate. Disgusted by the prophecy that he would kills his own father and marry his own mother, his pride and presumption made those very things come to pass.

I can look at myself, and see quite a number of things I would wish had happened differently, and I may dwell upon them. I can find ways I may think I have been wronged, and I may stew with thoughts of vengeance. Yet each and every time, the only real loss that came to be from such situations was the result of my own judgments about them. Instead of relying on my merits, I made the events more important to me, and so I allowed them to determine me.

If I freely bind myself to what will happen, I can hardly blame what will happen. There is the tragedy, and there is the lesson.

Written in 4/2009

Epictetus, Golden Sayings 97

"My brother ought not to have treated me thus." 

True, but he must see to that. However he may treat me, I must deal rightly by him. This is what lies with me, what none can hinder. 

Thomas a Kempis, The Imitation of Christ 2.1

Of the inward life

1. The kingdom of God is within you, says the Lord. Turn with all you heart to the Lord and forsake this miserable world, and you shall find rest unto your soul. Learn to despise outward things and to give yourself to things inward, and you shall see the kingdom of God come within you. For the kingdom of God is peace and joy in the Holy Ghost, and it is not given to the wicked. Christ will come to you, and show you His consolation, if you prepare a worthy mansion for Him within you. All His glory and beauty is from within, and there it pleases Him to dwell. He often visits the inward man and holds with him sweet discourse, giving him soothing consolation, much peace, friendship exceedingly wonderful.

2. Go to, faithful soul, prepare your heart for this bridegroom that he may vouchsafe to come to you and dwell within you, for so He says, if any man loves me he will keep my words: and my Father will love him, and we will come unto him and make our abode with him. Give, therefore, place to Christ and refuse entrance to all others. When you have Christ, you are rich, and have what is sufficient. He shall be your provider and faithful watchman in all things, so that you have no need to trust in men, for men soon change and swiftly pass away, but Christ remains for ever and stands by us firmly even to the end.

3. There is no great trust to be placed in a frail and mortal man, even though he be useful and dear to us, neither should much sorrow arise within us if sometimes he oppose and contradict us. They who are on your side today, may to-morrow be against you, and often are they turned round like the wind. Put your whole trust in God and let Him be your fear and your love, He will answer for you Himself, and will do for you what is best. Here have you no continuing city, and wheresoever you are, you are a stranger and a pilgrim, and you shall never have rest unless you are closely united to Christ within you.

4. Why do you cast your eyes here and there, since this is not the place of your rest? In heaven ought your habitation to be, and all earthly things should be looked upon as it were in the passing by. All things pass away, and you equally with them. Look that you cleave not to them lest you be taken with them and perish. Let your contemplation be on the Most High, and let your supplication be directed unto Christ without ceasing. If you cannot behold high and heavenly things, rest you in the passion of Christ and dwell willingly in His sacred wounds. For if you devoutly fly to the wounds of Jesus, and the precious marks of the nails and the spear, you shall find great comfort in tribulation, nor will the slights of men trouble you much, and you will easily bear their unkind words.

5. Christ also, when He was in the world, was despised and rejected of men, and in His greatest necessity was left by His acquaintance and friends to bear these reproaches. Christ was willing to suffer and be despised, and dare you complain of any? Christ had adversaries and gainsayers, and do you wish to have all men your friends and benefactors? Whence shall your patience attain her crown if no adversity befalls you? If you are unwilling to suffer any adversity, how shall you be the friend of Christ? Sustain yourself with Christ and for Christ if you will reign with Christ.

6. If you had once entered into the mind of Jesus, and had tasted yet even a little of his tender love, then would you care nothing for your own convenience or inconvenience, but would rather rejoice at trouble brought upon you, because the love of Jesus makes a man to despise himself. He who loves Jesus, and is inwardly true and free from inordinate affections, is able to turn himself readily unto God, and to rise above himself in spirit, and to enjoy fruitful peace.

7. He who knows things as they are and not as they are said or seem to be, he truly is wise, and is taught of God more than of men. He who knows how to walk from within, and to set little value upon outward things, requires not places nor waits for seasons, for holding his intercourse with God. The inward man quickly recollects himself, because he is never entirely given up to outward things. No outward labor and no necessary occupations stand in his way, but as events fall out, so does he fit himself to them. He who is rightly disposed and ordered within cares not for the strange and perverse conduct of men. A man is hindered and distracted in so far as he is moved by outward things.

8. If it were well with you, and you were purified from evil, all things would work together for your good and profiting. For this cause do many things displease you and often trouble you, that you are not yet perfectly dead to yourself nor separated from all earthly things. Nothing so defiles and entangles the heart of man as impure love towards created things. If you reject outward comfort you will be able to contemplate heavenly things and frequently to be joyful inwardly.

Top Ten Ways I Know It Isn't a Discussion. . .

[Originally offered for consideration to a middle school logic class in 2002.]

With Apologies to David Letterman.

Top Ten ways I know it is no longer a discussion, but soon about to become a conflict.

It is now an argument in the worst sense, not in the best sense. Reason has now given way to resentment. Perhaps best to walk away, offering all due respect, until cooler heads prevail!

As always, your mileage may vary. . .

1) Equivocation: You define a certain word, to mean a certain thing, and another then uses it in a completely different way. "You speak of justice for all men, so you deny it to all women!" Commonly united to The Red Herring.

2) Ad Hominem: Attacking the person instead of the argument. "What could an ignorant racist like you know about justice anyway?"

3) The Red Herring: Distracting from the matter at hand, and redirecting the question to something quite different. "Yes, you may say you want world peace, but what about that time you stole a cookie from your little sister back in kindergarten?"

4) Hasty Generalization: Coming to a universal statement from only limited particulars. "I've never met a cop I could trust!"

5) Appeal to Authority: Replacing evidence with the force of of institutional power. "How dare you! Don't you know our President told us that all the dolphins on Earth will die within three years?"

6) Appeal to Popularity:Replacing evidence with the force of whatever is commonly accepted. "Everyone believes that clowns are evil, so we should close all circuses!"

7) Appeal to Pity: Replacing evidence with sentiment. "Will somebody please think about the poor suffering children!" A form of the broader Appeal to Emotion at the expense of reason.

8) Appeal to Ignorance: Insisting, without any further argument, that nothing about the question can ever be answered. "Who's to say what's right and what's wrong?"

Often joined together with Begging the Question, assuming the conclusion in the premises. "Of course we can't know God, because God is unknowable!"

Absolutely most clever when also combined with Ad Hominem. "You clueless idiot! How can there be a moral law, or a God, if such foolish hopes are just the illusions of those who wish to crush us under their heels?" Ah, Good Stuff!

9) Post hoc, ergo propter hoc: After this, therefore because of this. "My Grandma died of liver failure, and that was just after she had a beer!" A favorite of statisticians and politicians, who easily confuse correlation with causation.

10) Straw Man: Claiming someone else said something they never actually said. "I am grateful to my opponent for saying that he supports imprisoning criminals, since he admits that he supports concentration camps and genocide."

Also works well with Hyperbole, the exaggeration of any claim, and Slippery Slope, the assumption that one seemingly innocent action will necessarily lead to far worse consequences.

There are many more, but these are the ones you may well run across most often in daily conversation.

In the end, though, nothing is worse all around than an invalid syllogism, using false premises:

Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 11.5

What is your art? To be good.

And how is this accomplished well, except by general principles, some about the nature of the Universe, and others about the proper constitution of man?

—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, Book 11.5 (tr Long)

We admire all sorts of art, ability, skill, expertise, or proficiency in people. We send folks to school for years and years, and we put them through the most rigorous training, all so that they can learn to produce or sell things, and thereby to make themselves more influential over others. We are deeply impressed by those who have the prowess to master their circumstances.

Yet we too often neglect the greatest human power of all, to be masters over ourselves.

I was admittedly never very good at most of the trades and professions I attempted, so I can understand why someone might cry sour grapes. Yet even with the few things I had a slight knack for, like being a loyal and dedicated office gofer, or managing as a halfway competent teacher, or even that occasionally brilliant lick on a mandolin, my heart was never into pursuing these things to make myself look better to others. It seemed just downright wrong.

It always felt deeply uncomfortable to lie, steal, slander, or even look the other way to get what I wanted. I saw others doing it all of the time, but whenever I tried to play that game, I felt sick inside.

The benefit that came to me from all of this was to look elsewhere for a happy life. As much as I might desire riches or fame, shouldn’t I really concern myself with becoming a decent person, first and foremost?

That is the human art, the one we gloss over. What good will any degree, or any job, or any worldly achievement help me, if I have not first struggled to be wise, brave, temperate, and just? For all the preferences I may have, where is my work and effort on making myself better, not just making my situation better?

No refined scholarship is necessary, and no high-powered credentials are required. I only need to take an honest hold of myself, and to consider how I can find my own place within the order of Providence.

Virtue is the greatest human art, and no schooling, or titles, or plays for power will ever give that to me. This is because it cannot be given to me at all, as I can only give it to myself.

By all means, let me be in awe at a man’s ability to get things done. Better, however, to be committed to my own ability to do things right. I must understand that radical difference. True art is measured by its own beauty, not by how much it will fetch at auction.

Written in 4/2009

Sayings of Ramakrishna 3

Two persons were hotly disputing as to the color of a chameleon. One said, 'The chameleon on that palm-tree is of a beautiful red color.' The other, contradicting him, said, 'You are mistaken, the chameleon is not red, but blue.' 

Not being able to settle the matter by arguments, both went to the person who always lived under that tree and had watched the chameleon in all its phases of color.

One of them said, 'Sir, is not the chameleon on that tree of a red color?' The person replied, 'Yes, sir.' The other disputant said, 'What do you say? How is it? It is not red, it is blue.' That person again humbly replied, 'Yes, sir.' 

The person knew that the chameleon is an animal that constantly changes its color; thus it was that he said 'yes' to both these conflicting statements. 

The Sat-kit-ânanda likewise has various forms. The devotee who has seen God in one aspect only, knows Him in that aspect alone. But he who has seen Him in His manifold aspects, is alone in a position to say, 'All these forms are of one God, for God is multiform.' He has forms and has no forms, and many are His forms which no one knows. 

Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 11.4

Have I done something for the general interest? Well then, I have had my reward. Let this always be present to your mind, and never stop doing such good.

—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, Book 11.4 (tr Long)

I have made many mistakes concerning the people I admire and trust. I have too often been enticed by fine words and a pleasant presentation, and I have too often overlooked those who simply act with conviction and character, never making a peep about how important they are. Even if my thinking was slowly improving, my doing was lagging quite far behind.

I now see, just a bit more clearly, that good people will genuinely act for the sake of others, and that they will ask for no further reward beyond that. The satisfaction of their conscience is all they seek.

I also begin to recognize where I was going wrong. There are rather clear warning signs for players and scoundrels. Everything they say and do always seems to point back to glorifying themselves, and they always demand some further compensation for their seeming decency. At that point, of course, it ceases to be decency at all; it becomes a mercenary life.

The common good, or the “general interest”, is not merely some abstract idea. It is a concrete commitment. It requires seeing that the good of any one piece can never be at the expense of any other, and that we all rise and fall together.

It brings out the young romantic in me, whose eyes got a bit teary when he first read Dostoevsky’s Crime and Punishment, where Father Zosima says: “Every one of us is undoubtedly responsible for all men.”

It brings out the old Thomist in me, who still recites to himself that phrase from the manuals: “A man may suffer an evil, but he must never commit an evil.”

Many people have long told me that success in life requires balancing priorities, finding compromises, and seizing opportunities. That indeed sounds noble, until one grasps that it all really depends on our order of what is more or less important, what things we surrender in order to gain other things, and where we find what is useful.

To prioritize virtue over vice is quite good, but to prioritize profit over principle is quite evil. To compromise my preferences for my character is worthy of credit, but to compromise my character for convenience is worthy of blame. To take advantage of the chance to be fair is right, but to take advantage of the chance to play the tyrant is wrong.

I leave little reminders for myself everywhere I can, like a trail of breadcrumbs, to be clear about what I really want, and why I might want it.

Written in 4/2009

Tao Te Ching 39

The things which from of old have got the One, the Tao, are—
Heaven which by it is bright and pure;
Earth rendered thereby firm and sure;
Spirits with powers by it supplied;
Valleys kept full throughout their void;
All creatures which through it do live;
Princes and kings who from it get,
The model which to all they give.

All these are the results of the One, the Tao.

If heaven were not thus pure, it soon would rend;
If earth were not thus sure, 'twould break and bend;
Without these powers, the spirits soon would fail;
If not so filled, the drought would parch each vale;
Without that life, creatures would pass away;
Princes and kings, without that moral sway,
However grand and high, would all decay.

Thus it is that dignity finds its firm root in its previous meanness, and what is lofty finds its stability in the lowness from which it rises. Hence princes and kings call themselves 'Orphans,' 'Men of small virtue,' and as 'Carriages without a nave.' 

Is not this an acknowledgment that in their considering themselves mean they see the foundation of their dignity? So it is that in the enumeration of the different parts of a carriage we do not come on what makes it answer the ends of a carriage. They do not wish to show themselves elegant-looking as jade, but prefer to be coarse-looking as an ordinary stone.

Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 11.3

What a soul that is which is ready, if at any moment it must be separated from the body, and ready either to be extinguished, or dispersed, or continue to exist.

But let this readiness comes from a man's own judgment, not from mere obstinacy, as with the Christians, but considerately and with dignity and in a way to persuade another, without tragic show.

—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, Book 11.3 (tr Long)

Oh, how certain of my Christian friends hate this passage, because they think it paints them in such a bad light! I remind them that I too try to be a Christian, but they will have none of it.

“You either need to embrace Jesus, or abandon your heathen Stoics!” I don’t see it that way at all, but I suppose I am in a minority of those who think that all truth is truth, regardless of the tribe. Some of us choose to first find what is shared, instead of stomping our feet at what is different.

False dichotomies are so very tempting. I still stand with St. Thomas Aquinas, who told me that Aristotle, and so many other great philosophers, had such profound insight, and that all insight serves both God and men.

The narrow ideologues don’t understand that their own stubborn exclusion is exactly what I suspect the Philosopher-Emperor found so frustrating.

I try to look a little deeper, and do a little bit of thinking on my own time. Any decent man, from whatever school or creed, will hopefully understand that a soul is best when it bows to what is true, and does not seek to lord over it.

A good part of this is learning to accept that life will not follow my preferences. I may well die in just a moment, by no design or choice of my own. As I still breathe, it is also very possible that it will all hurt quite a bit. Sometimes, I will even be asked to live far longer than I might wish. I am only left to ponder if I have done my best to live with the character my nature demands of me.

Have I been fair, kind, compassionate, and caring? No, I have not always done that. Then let me fix it right now, since I must treat this moment as being all that I am guaranteed to have.

“But my God will reward me later, if I put you in your place right now!” I’m sorry, but I do not understand your conception of God, or why He would make it your job to determine anyone's place but your own. Leave it at that, because I have no wish to fight you.

Virtue is never, I suggest, about throwing one’s weight around, or stepping on other people’s lives. Do I want someone else to be happier, to find his peace, to change his ways? Let me love him, not hate him.

Let me reason with him in friendship, not condemn him from resentment. All the melodrama only draws attention to our own vanity, and assists no one else.

I never actually sat down and spoke to Jesus, but as a Roman Catholic I believe I meet him whenever I receive the Blessed Sacrament. Still, I do not presume to speak for Him. How rude! I never read a bit in the Gospels that told me to make a scene about how much better I am than you.

We’re all going to die; what was actually noble within us while we still lived? 

Written in 4/2009

Sayings of Socrates 12

I went to the artisans, for I was conscious that I knew nothing at all, as I may say, and I was sure that they knew many fine things of which I was ignorant, and in this they certainly were wiser than I was. 

But I observed that even the good artisans fell into the same error as the poets; because they were good workmen, they thought they knew all sorts of high matters, and this defect in them overshadowed their wisdom.

Therefore I asked myself on behalf of the Oracle, whether I would like to be as I was, neither having their knowledge nor their ignorance, or like them in both; and I made answer to myself and the Oracle that I was better off as I was.

—Plato, Apology 22d–e

Tears for Fears, "Break It Down Again"

As a reference for Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 11.2:

I always loved these fellows, from when I first heard "Change" on WFNX in 1983 to that point where they could fill huge arenas.

This song came after Curt left the band, and Roland went out on his own. Tears for Fears "breaking up" seemed to mirror all the shattering in my own life, just around 1992.

Rebuilding a life that seemed broken, contrary to all instinct, actually meant first breaking it down even more. Look at the pieces, and only then will the whole not seem so intimidating. Seeing the basic elements, and all the good mixed within the bad, gives new purpose. Only then can there be any rebuilding.

Tears for Fears, "Break It Down Again", from Elemental (1993)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9MhKktZSs_A

Break it down again

So those are my dreams
And these are my eyes
Stand tall like a man
Head strong like a horse
When it's all mixed up
Better break it down
In the world of secrets
In the world of sound

It's in the way you're always hiding from the light
See for yourself you have been sitting on a time bomb
No revolution maybe someone somewhere else
Could show you something new about you and your inner song
And all the love and all the love in the world
Won't stop the rain from falling
Waste seeping underground
I want to break it down

Break it down again
So those are my schemes
And these are my plans
Hot tips for the boys
Fresh news from the force
When it's all mixed up
Better break it down
In the world of silence
In the world of sound

"No sleep for dreaming" say the architects of life
Big bouncing babies, bread and butter can I have a slice
They make no mention of the beauty of decay
Blue, yellow, pink umbrella save it for a rainy day
And all the love and all the love in the world
Won't stop the rain from falling
Waste seeping underground
I want to break it down

Horsin' around
Pray to the power
Play to the crowd with your big hit sound
And they won't simmer won't simmer, won't simmer down
Play to the crowd
Pay to the crowd
Play yeah yeah

It's in the way you're always hiding from the light
Fast off to heaven just like Moses on a motorbike
No revolution maybe someone somewhere else
Could show you something new to help you
With the ups and downs
I want to break it down
Break it down again

Break it down again
No more sleepy dreaming
No more building up
It is time to dissolve
Break it down again
No more sleepy dreaming 

Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 11.2

You will set little value on pleasing song and dancing and the athletic games, if you will distribute the melody of the voice into its several sounds, and ask yourself as to each, if you are mastered by this.

 For you will be prevented by shame from confessing it, and in the matter of dancing, if at each movement and attitude you will do the same, and the like also in the matter of the athletic games.

In all things, then, except virtue and the acts of virtue, remember to apply yourself to their several parts, and by this division to come to value them little. And apply this rule also to your whole life.

—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, Book 11.2 (tr Long)

I have no time limit on making myself look the fool, because as much as it may hurt, it always helps me to be humble. I am wary, however, of embarrassing others, but in this case I suspect that enough time has passed for anyone to notice.

My father was quite a follower of the medieval and renaissance music scene in Boston, and he was quite an accomplished musician himself. As a child, I always seemed to be around artsy people playing wonderful old instruments; to this day the sight and sound of a recorder, lute, or viola da gamba will send chills down my spine.

It was surely no accident that when I went to college, I was consumed by all things from that era. I would take class after class about Icelandic sagas, Anglo-Saxon literature, Arthurian Romances, and as much Chaucer and Dante as I could manage. Of course it would never get me a job, but it sure nurtured my soul.

One day, my father took me to a concert at Harvard by a small group that was performing medieval Provencal songs. Now you may find that quite boring, but I found it quite exciting. The only problem was that as soon as the music started, I was no longer listening to the music.

You see, there was this soprano who was singing with the group, and she looked to me like an angel who had fallen from heaven. I had been reading about medieval maidens for so long, wise, virtuous, and strong of temperament, and now there seemed to be one standing right before me.

As all good performers do, she would catch the eyes of the audience, but when she caught mine, those of an ungainly and geeky boy, I was sure I would die of longing. She was what I thought all of the romances described: tall, slender, pale, tumbling hair, fiery eyes, delicate lips. In the timeless words of Bambi, I was twitterpated.

I am now no longer afraid to admit that I made excuses to see this group many more times, and mainly to see her. I didn’t care that she was married to the fellow next to her playing the lute, and it obviously never occurred to me to act on any of it. She was completely out of my league, and it was all in my own head. Isn’t that, after all, what chivalric love is all about? The jewel you may never possess?

Time passes, and one thinks that the silly old longings of our innocent past just fade away. Sometimes they hilariously turn up again. I was personally introduced to her many years later, and though time had changed her, and had also changed me, I stood there like a love-struck puppy, unable to say a word. What an awkward moment.

She smiled, and laughed in a kindly way, probably quite aware of my terrible predicament; she was French after, all, and they understand such things.

“You have the thoughtful look of your father,” she said as she gently shook my hand. Dammit! Twitterpated again!

To this day, I use the whole experience as yet another way to help me make sense of my own foolishness, my own shallowness, and my own illusions. I am sure she was a wonderful woman, but my fantasy had nothing to do with her. It was an image of the whole that called to me, not the reality of the parts. I should never confuse a vague dream, a barrage of appealing images, with discerning things as they are in and of themselves.

Am I entranced by a song? Consider each voice, and each part, and each note, and then I am no longer so entranced.

Am I seduced by a dance? Observe each dancer, and each step, and each gesture, and then I am no longer so seduced.

Am I impressed by a show of strength? Watch each play, and each thrust, and each grab, and I am no longer so impressed.

Break it all down, and it doesn’t seem quite so big. See every piece, and it isn’t so intimidating. Look at all the parts, as common and base as they are, and it isn’t so overwhelming.

Remove all of these diversions, and I am left seeing only people much like myself, no more beautiful or ugly. Seeing only other people, all other trappings cast aside, I recognize that it is only virtue that makes them better, and vice that makes them worse. The confusing muddle of impressions must be refined, reduced from the vague to the precise.

Written in 4/2009

Ecclesiatstes 7:23-29

[23] All this I have tested by wisdom; I said, "I will be wise"; but it was far from me.
[24] That which is, is far off, and deep, very deep; who can find it out?
[25] I turned my mind to know and to search out and to seek wisdom and the sum of things, and to know the wickedness of folly and the foolishness which is madness.
[26] And I found more bitter than death the woman whose heart is snares and nets, and whose hands are fetters; he who pleases God escapes her, but the sinner is taken by her.
[27] Behold, this is what I found, says the Preacher, adding one thing to another to find the sum,
[28] which my mind has sought repeatedly, but I have not found. One man among a thousand I found, but a woman among all these I have not found.
[29] Behold, this alone I found, that God made man upright, but they have sought out many devices. 

Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 11.1

These are the properties of the rational soul: it sees itself, analyzes itself, and makes itself such as it chooses; the fruit that it bears itself enjoys—for the fruits of plants and that in animals which corresponds to fruits others enjoy—it obtains its own end, wherever the limit of life may be fixed.

Not as in a dance and in a play and in such like things, where the whole action is incomplete if anything cuts it short; but in every part, and wherever it may be stopped, it makes what has been set before it full and complete, so that it can say, I have what is my own.

And further it traverses the whole Universe, and the surrounding vacuum, and surveys its form, and it extends itself into the infinity of time, and embraces and comprehends the periodical renovation of all things, and it comprehends that those who come after us will see nothing new, nor have those before us seen anything more, but in a manner he who is forty years old, if he has any understanding at all, has seen by virtue of the uniformity that prevails all things that have been and all that will be.

This too is a property of the rational soul: love of one's neighbor, and truth and modesty, and to value nothing more than itself, which is also the property of Law. Thus the right reason differs not at all from the reason of justice.

—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, Book 11.1 (tr Long)

Observe how we pay all of the attention to the outside layers, and we neglect the inner core.

We have all the objects that we wish to possess, and we say they make us complete. We keep our bodies safe and secure, and we say that we are content. We work to satisfy all of our deepest passions, and we say that we are fulfilled. We win praise from others, and we say that we are whole.

And in doing all of that, we praise the qualities of the vessel, while neglecting the character of the captain.

The cruise ship is so big and shiny, made of the strongest steel. The sailors are all so buff and handsome. The pretty girl serving you a cocktail really seems to like you. But who is piloting the whole darn thing?

I am composed of many things, and I have many aspects, but at the heart of them all is my awareness. My power of reason requires the addition of no luxuries beyond itself to be fully itself; any old experience will do. It demands no supplements to be complete. It finds its satisfaction in its own actions, and looks to nothing further.

The ship will only find herself safe on the seas by the skill of the able commander who guides her. Let me listen to the man on the bridge, not follow the cabin boy having his fun with the lonely housewife down below.

Every ship will one day meet her demise, and every captain will one day breathe his last. How long they lasted, and whatever weather or enemies they faced, and however they happened to end, is neither here nor there. While holding the helm, did the captain do what he knew to be best? When the ship went down, did he gladly go down with her, completely satisfied with a job well done?

And so it is in life. There will be loss, and there will be many things that are quite unexpected, and there will be that final moment when we all sink to the bottom. It may happen right now, or it may happen far in the future. The comfort is in living this life here and now, guiding our actions informed by conscience.

The beauty of a good and happy life involves being aware of nothing beyond our own immediate excellence. I must not think of myself as playing a drawn-out part in a fancy play, or slowly earning seniority at an important job, where I am only done after prancing and posing for a certain expected time. A single action of understanding and of love, committed in only a second, can redeem an entire life.

If I only so choose, my consciousness at this instant embraces all things, conceives of all the past, and surveys the whole future. How old I am, or how much I have, or how esteemed I am has nothing to do with it. Give me just the tiniest view of truth, and I am my own master.

The most wonderful consequence of this is that a man who sees things as they are will also respect them, and accordingly will also love them. It is his very power to understand that allows him to love, without condition, demanding nothing else.

Would you like to find people who are fair, kind, and decent? Look for the people who first and foremost understand true from false, and can thereby live according to right and wrong. 

Written in 4/2009

The Art of Peace 28

The only cure for materialism is the cleansing of the six senses—eyes, ears, nose, tongue, body, and mind. If the senses are clogged, one's perception is stifled. The more it is stifled, the more contaminated the senses become. This creates disorder in the world, and that is the greatest evil of all. Polish the heart, free the six senses and let them function without obstruction, and your entire body and soul will glow.