.
. . Like this pig also is he who on his bed in silence laments the bonds in
which we are held.
And
consider that only to the rational animal is it given to follow voluntarily
what happens; but simply to follow is a necessity imposed on all.
—Marcus
Aurelius, Meditations, Book 10.28 (tr
Long)
As I am so prone to do, I will then
swing myself to the completely opposite extreme. Having learned that I cannot
control what the world will do to me, I proceed to surrender completely. I will
just lie down, I will mope, and I will feel sorry for myself. I will turn from
anger to despair. Where there was once resentment, there is now only
melancholy.
I am missing something in between.
To know that my actions will not determine my circumstances does not mean that
my actions are without meaning and purpose. It is not about lacking any power,
but rather about deciding toward what end I should commit my power.
I still have the same freedom of
choice that I always thought I had. The only difference lies in whether my
thinking and doing are vainly focused on changing God, on fixing others, and on
determining the order of Nature, or are rightly directed at changing, fixing,
and determining myself.
The trick isn’t in fretting and
fussing, and it isn’t in moaning and crying. It isn’t even in some vague
conception that a mysterious “Nature” intended it all. It is in considering the
very identity that makes me human. To be given reason and free will means that
I can choose to go with things, not simply be swept along by things. To go with
them is certainly to accept them for what they are, and then further to make
the most of what they are, to see how they can help me to become wiser and
better.
Can fate help me to understand? Can
fate help me to love? It most certainly can. It is precisely at those moments,
when I realize I am not the center of the Universe, that I can choose to
participate, not to dominate. I become most fully myself by giving of myself
instead of receiving for myself.
Back when I tried to work for
Catholic social services, we had a fellow who would show up regularly for our
weekly dinner. The point was to welcome anyone and everyone, but most people just
thought he was crazy. Even if it was true, I have never thought a person’s
burdens as an impediment to my showing kindness and concern, and I would
deliberately choose to speak with him each time.
I often had no idea what he was
talking about, though I tried to listen. One day, he said something that really
stuck with me. I have removed the constant cursing so as not to offend:
So
all those dudes who run things, well they tell you, “My way or the highway!”
And you know what I say? They don’t listen, but I still say it. We’re all on
the same highway, and we all have to ride it. But some guys drive nice, and other
guys try to force you off the road!
Now who says philosophy is only for
the scholars? Better that it be for the rest of us, the ones who live and die
before they preen and posture.
What will happen along the path is
not for me to decide. How I comport myself along the path, as one who chooses love over hate, is certainly for me to decide.
Will the path take me to the
slaughterhouse? I will choose not to squeal, and I will choose not to sulk. I
will be the best that pig I can be.
Written in 3/2009
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