Facing the Black Dog

Does the Black Dog snarl at you? Smile back at him.

Are you afraid he will rip out your throat? Let him have your throat, if he must. Keep your own dignity. He can't take that.

Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 12.24.2

. . . Second, consider what every being is from the seed to the time of its receiving a soul, and from the reception of a soul to the giving back of the same, and of what things every being is compounded, and into what things it is resolved.

—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, Book 12.24 (tr Long)

Remember, it always looks more powerful and intimidating than it really is. Part of my own personal Stoic exercises, quite useful at many frustrating times during the day, involves mentally breaking things down. What are they really made of? What were they before? What will they very soon become? When I can do this, I am suddenly not so troubled. I can whistle my way past the highwayman.

“You’re not so big!” my little daughter would often say, standing up as straight as she could, whenever she came across something frightening.

I can do this when the circumstances of the world seem to be rolling over me. They are what they are, and I still remain what I am. Bodies crash into me, and my thinking can still remain intact.

I can do this when I see that someone else is making himself appear to be the king of the hill. He clothes himself in images, while beneath them he is just another fragile animal with a brief spark of mind, no different than myself.

I can do this, most importantly of all, when I begin to take myself far too seriously. I’m not all I make myself out to be. Most of what I fret over does not matter one bit, and I recognize it when I break myself down.

It is all from the same matter, and to the same matter it will return. In the meantime, it adopts a certain form, a temporary arrangement of that matter, and I therefore take it to be far more than it actually is. I am impressed by the vanity, but I should remember what is base. This vanity is something I add in my own estimation, and not what is actually there.

I still have a very vivid memory of some of my students, having just attended Ash Wednesday Mass, sitting about before class, and bragging about how special this made them.

“It’s so sad that more students didn’t receive the ashes! They don’t know how blessed it would make them!”

I tried to bite my tongue, but I said it in any event. “You do know what the ashes represent, right?”

“Of course, it’s a sign that we’re Catholic, and that we should be proud of our Faith, that we are chosen.”

“Memento, homo, quia pulvis es, et in pulverem reverteris.”

“What?”

Didn’t you just hear those words at Mass?”

“Well, I don’t know Latin, so. . . “

“Remember, man, that you are dust, and to dust you shall return."

I was met only with empty stares.

“Yes, you may be special, but you’re also just made of dirt.” 

Written in 9/2009

Aesop's Fables 6

The Man and the Serpent

A Countryman's son by accident trod upon a Serpent's tail, which turned and bit him so that he died. The father in a rage got his axe, and pursuing the Serpent, cut off part of its tail.  

So the Serpent in revenge began stinging several of the Farmer's cattle and caused him severe loss. 

Well, the Farmer thought it best to make it up with the Serpent, and brought food and honey to the mouth of its lair, and said to it: 

"Let's forget and forgive; perhaps you were right to punish my son, and take vengeance on my cattle, but surely I was right in trying to revenge him; now that we are both satisfied why should not we be friends again?"

"No, no," said the Serpent; "take away your gifts; you can never forget the death of your son, nor I the loss of my tail." 

Injuries may be forgiven, but not forgotten.

Distraction

Thomas a Kempis, The Imitation of Christ 2.10

Of gratitude for the Grace of God

 

1. Why seek you rest when you are born to labor? Prepare yourself for patience more than for comforts, and for bearing the cross more than for joy. For who among the men of this world would not gladly receive consolation and spiritual joy if he might always have it? For spiritual comforts exceed all the delights of the world, and all the pleasures of the flesh. For all worldly delights are either empty or unclean, while spiritual delights alone are pleasant and honorable, the offspring of virtue, and poured forth by God into pure minds. But no man can always enjoy these divine comforts at his own will, because the season of temptation ceases not for long.

2. Great is the difference between a visitation from above and false liberty of spirit and great confidence in self. God does well in giving us the grace of comfort, but man does ill in not immediately giving God thanks thereof. And thus the gifts of grace are not able to flow unto us, because we are ungrateful to the Author of them, and return them not wholly to the Fountain whence they flow. For grace ever becomes the portion of him who is grateful and that is taken away from the proud, which is wont to be given to the humble.

3. I desire no consolation which takes away from me compunction, I love no contemplation which leads to pride. For all that is high is not holy, nor is everything that is sweet good; every desire is not pure; nor is everything that is dear to us pleasing unto God. Willingly do I accept that grace whereby I am made humbler and more wary and more ready to renounce myself. He who is made learned by the gift of grace and taught wisdom by the stroke of the withdrawal thereof, will not dare to claim any good thing for himself, but will rather confess that he is poor and needy. Give unto God the thing which is God's, and ascribe to yours that which is yours; that is, give thanks unto God for His grace, but for yourself alone confess your fault, and that your punishment is deserved for your fault.

4. Sit yourself down always in the lowest room and you shall be given the highest place. For the highest cannot be without the lowest. For the highest saints of God are least in their own sight, and the more glorious they are, so much the lowlier are they in themselves; full of grace and heavenly glory, they are not desirous of vain-glory; resting on God and strong in His might, they cannot be lifted up in any wise. And they who ascribe unto God all the good that they have received, "seek not glory one of another, but the glory which comes from God only," and they desire that God shall be praised in Himself and in all His Saints above all things, and they are always striving for this very thing.

5. Be thankful, therefore, for the least benefit and you shall be worthy to receive greater. Let the least be unto you even as the greatest, and let that which is of little account be unto you as a special gift. If the majesty of the Giver be considered, nothing that is given shall seem small and of no worth, for that is not a small thing which is given by the Most High God. Yea, though He gave punishment and stripes, we ought to be thankful, because He ever does for our profit whatever He suffers to come upon us. He who seeks to retain the favor of God, let him be thankful for the favor that is given, and patient in respect of that which is taken away. Let him pray that it may return; let him be wary and humble that he lose it not.

Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 12.24.1

These three principles you must have in readiness:

In the things that you do, do nothing either inconsiderately or otherwise than as justice herself would act; but with respect to what may happen to you from without, consider that it happens either by chance or according to Providence, and you must neither blame chance nor accuse Providence. . . .

—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, Book 12.24 (tr Long)

Let me look at what I have too often falsely considered to be justice: getting as much as I want, and giving as little as I must. I will only give, of course, if it helps me to get what I want.

“Oh no, I’m not that way at all!” I won’t speak for you, as I can only speak for myself, but I know I have done this far too many times, always, of course, with the best of intentions.

It required a total rewiring of my thinking to change any of that, to see that there was no difference between “you” and “me”, that what I expect to be given can never be any different than what I expect to give. You and I are the very same, and we are both called to the very same respect for one another. That is a matter of sound reason, not of sticky sentiment.

“But the world treats me unfairly!” Does this excuse my acting unfairly? And am I so sure it is unfair? Another may have acted poorly. Does this change the merit of my own actions? It is always within my power to respond to injustice with justice.

There is always a way to make the wrong things right. It is completely in my way of thinking.

Perhaps the world works by random fate, or perhaps it works by the fate of Providence. Perhaps it happened for no reason at all, or perhaps it happened for the most profound of reasons. Either way, none of that, absolutely none of it, can stop me from being a decent fellow for myself. Why am I always complaining about what has been done, even as I neglect what I might do?

Casting blame is nothing more than dodging my responsibility to myself, and forcing it upon someone or something else.

“But I lost my job, my money, my home, my health, my family! It was wrong for me to lose them!”

Yes, these things can go away in a moment. Yes, someone else may have unjustly taken them away. But here is the most important point: none of these things are me. If I learn that, I avoid all the turmoil and agony.

The me behind it all is about my own ability to live well. Nothing ever takes that away. Change the expectations, and you change the outcome. 

Written in 9/2009

Facebook Exile

Just posted to the Stoic Breviary page on Facebook. A perfect opportunity for acceptance:

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You may notice that the majority of content on this page has disappeared. It seems Facebook has determined that the personal blog, to which most of the posts were linked, "violates community standards." Linking to the site itself has been banned from FB.

Anyone who is still interested in reading any old or new posts is welcome to go straight to the Blogger site. It should hopefully be easy to find by doing a Google search for "Stoic Breviary".

Unless something changes, this message will stay up for a time, and then this page will be deleted. No point in keeping it up if sharing content is not allowed.

Many thanks to those of you who so kindly read along over the years. It was a good run.

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Stoic Conversations 13

"I'm so glad that earning tenure at the College hasn't changed me. I'm so happy to honestly be me."

"You're right, it hasn't changed you one bit. You're exactly like you always were."

"It's so liberating to be committed to justice and to serve the community."

"Sorry, I missed something. Are you thinking of changing?"

Trust

Sayings of Ramakrishna 12

All waters are brooded over by Nârâyana, but every kind of water is not fit for drink. Similarly, though it is true that the Almighty dwells in every place, yet every place is not fit to be visited by man. 

As one kind of water may be used for washing our feet, another may serve the purpose of ablution, and others may be drunk, and others again may not be touched at all; so there are different kinds of places. 

We may approach some, we can enter into the inside of others, others we must avoid, even at a distance.

Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 12.23

Any one activity, whatever it may be, when it has ceased at its proper time, suffers no evil because it has ceased; nor he who has done this act, does he suffer any evil for this reason, that the act has ceased.

In like manner then the whole, which consists of all the acts, which is our life, if it cease at its proper time, suffers no evil for this reason, that it has ceased; nor he who has terminated this series at the proper time, has he been ill dealt with.

But the proper time and the limit Nature fixes, sometimes as in old age the peculiar nature of man, but always the Universal Nature, by the change of whose parts the whole Universe continues ever young and perfect. And everything that is useful to the Universal is always good and in season.

Therefore the termination of life for every man is no evil, because neither is it shameful, since it is both independent of the will and not opposed to the general interest, but it is good, since it is seasonable, and profitable to and congruent with the Universal. For thus too he is moved by the Deity who is moved in the same manner with the Deity, and moved towards the same thing in his mind.

—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, Book 12.23 (tr Long)

Even as I continue to make many terrible mistakes in daily practice, I am encouraged to see certain habits of Stoic thinking take hold, slowly but surely. My immediate responses are no longer always measured only by my desires, or by the weight of my circumstances, but are informed more by a sense of right and wrong. I begin to see what is good and what is bad in very different ways than I did before, in ways I would once not have thought possible.

There was a time when my first reaction to an insult was only resentment. My thoughts can now more easily be about compassion.

There was a time when my first reaction to pain was only self-pity. My thoughts can now more easily be about self-mastery.

There was a time when my first reaction to loss was only despair. My thoughts can now more easily be about acceptance.

Loss has always been the most difficult situation for me to come to terms with. Surely, I have assumed, if something is good, then it should continue to be there? Why does it have to go away? Shouldn’t the best things last forever?

But for created things to act according to their specific natures, within the order of all of Nature, it is fitting that they both come to be and pass away. This is not contrary to what they are, but essential to what they are. The quantity of time for which they are here should never be confused with the quality of excellence they possess while they are here.

The parts will come and go, so that the whole can be forever rebuilt and renewed. Decay is no more an evil than growth, falling no more an evil than rising, death no more an evil than birth. Each thing has its distinct time and place, and it makes way so that the next thing will have its distinct time and place.

As I grow older, I see more and more of death. I see more people I love disappear, and I become increasingly aware that I will also soon disappear. For the longest time, I could only feel the deepest sadness when I thought about those who were gone, and I could only feel the deepest fear when I thought of my own end.

Yet something seems to have changed in me. Only the other day, I thought of my departed uncle, and I was surprised by the absence of any grief. In its place was gratitude. Instead of feeling sorrow for his loss, I felt an urge to live right now, as he would have wanted me to live.

He had suffered much, and he had carried many burdens, but he was a profoundly good man, one of the best I have had the privilege of knowing. There was nothing evil at all about him dying, because he had done well in his living. It was unnecessary to add anything more to who he was.

Why should I need to live any longer, if the very point of my living was in the content of my character, to know the true and to love the good for the time I was given? In this I have consciously shared in the design of Providence, and I will then have done what I was meant to do. No encore is required, because the job is complete, and the watch has now been passed to another.

Written in 9/2009

Sayings of Socrates 21

I do nothing but go about persuading you all, old and young alike, not to take thought for your persons or your properties, but chiefly to care about the greatest improvement of the soul.

 I tell you that virtue is not given by money, but that from virtue comes money and every other good of man, public as well as private. 

This is my teaching, and if this is the doctrine that corrupts the youth, I am a mischievous person. 

—Plato, Apology 30a–b

The Black Dog, Continued . . .

Give your Black Dog a pipe to smoke. It will keep him occupied with his business, while you can then be occupied with yours.

Boethius, The Consolation 4.1

Thus gently sang the Lady Philosophy with dignified mien and grave countenance; and when she ceased, I, who had not thoroughly forgotten the grief within me, interrupted her, as she was about to speak further.

“Herald of true light,” I said, “right clear have been the outpourings of your speech until now, seeming inspired as one contemplates them, and invincible through your reasonings. And though through grief for the injustices I suffer, I had forgotten them, yet you have not spoken of what I knew not at all before.

“But this one thing is the chief cause of my grief, namely that, when there exists a good governor of the world, evils should exist at all, or, existing, should go unpunished. I would have you think how strange is this fact alone.

“But there is something even stranger attached thereto: ill-doing reigns and flourishes, while virtue not only lacks its reward, but is even trampled underfoot by wicked doers, and pays the penalties instead of crime.

“Who can wonder and complain enough that such things should happen under the rule of One who, while all-knowing and all-powerful, wills good alone?” . . .

—from Book 4, Prose 1

It all seems to have come full circle. Isn’t this exactly where we started?

Not exactly. Boethius has suddenly recalled his despair, though he is now equipped with tools he did not have at his disposal in the beginning. He is back to the same problem, though his perspective has also spiraled upwards.

He has come to understand that happiness is never in shallow, passing, or incomplete things, but rather in fundamental, lasting, and complete things.

He has also come to understand that all of existence is merely an emanation of that which is Absolute and Perfect.

He has also come to understand that the object of his own happiness and this Divinity are really one and the same, that nothing is ever fulfilled without participating in what is One.

He has also come to understand that nothing escapes the power of God, the sum of all that is Good, and that nothing wrong can ever be permitted by the might of what is right.

Yet how does this knowledge make the suffering in life any better? Doesn’t it, in fact, make it all the worse? If God is love, how does the darkest hatred make sense? If God is justice, how does the constant injustice fit into the plan? If God is truth, how can there be so many crippling lies?

Wicked people do wrong, yet they never seem to be punished for their wrongs. They get away with it, time and time again, and they laugh at the rest of us for being so foolish and naïve.

It seems even worse than that. Not only do the vicious escape any penalty, but they also seem to be rewarded for it, to receive even greater and greater benefits for their crimes. This makes their ridicule feel all the worse. In the meantime, virtuous people seem to pay the price for their convictions. They wish to do what is good, and all they get in return is greater and greater loss and pain.

Having carefully followed along with the text, I now felt angrier and more depressed than I had before. Maybe God is just mean-spirited, like so may other bosses, or maybe I’ve been tricked, and He doesn’t exist at all?

This is, I have found from my own experience, one of the greatest of problems, if not the greatest, that we must all face. So many people I have known have been crippled by this worry, that the purpose and design in things is deeply broken, or that perhaps there is no purpose and design at all.

And then so many of us will just give up. We watch the clever poseurs and players, milking everyone else for their own gain, and we just lower our heads, we lie down, we are sure there is no hope for us. We bear with it for whatever time we still have to, crying when no one else is looking, or we opt out of the game entirely, told at the end that we are cowards for being the losers.

Yikes. Put it that way, and you might wonder why most of the world even bothers to get out of bed in the morning.

But I should look again. Yes, my emotions may run away from me. Yes, it often feels like there is no way out of the daily grind. Why should I fear Hell, when I already seem to live in one?

Still, I am missing something. Everything Lady Philosophy has to this point explained, and carefully argued through sound reason, already contains my answer. I just have not yet put the pieces together in the right way.

As I first came to this this passage, I did indeed feel despair. I also saw something I may not have seen before, thanks to the previous three books of the Consolation. Notice how my very definition of what is good and bad in life, the one by which I assume the world is unfair, might not actually be the correct sense of what is good and bad in life? What are the vicious actually gaining, and what are the virtuous actually losing? 

Written in 10/2015

Tao Te Ching 46

When the Tao prevails in the world, they send back their swift horses to draw the dung-carts. When the Tao is disregarded in the world, the war-horses breed in the border lands.

There is no guilt greater than to sanction ambition; no calamity greater than to be discontented with one's lot; no fault greater than the wish to be getting. Therefore the sufficiency of contentment is an enduring and unchanging sufficiency.

The Black Dog. Perhaps you know him too?

Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 12.22

Consider that everything is opinion, and opinion is in your power. Take away, then, when you choose your opinion, and like a mariner who has doubled the promontory, you will find calm, everything stable, and a waveless bay.

—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, Book 12.22 (tr Long)

Relativists love this passage, and many others like it, because they think it means that Stoicism denies that there is any objective truth. They are free to think so, of course, that all propositions are both equally true and false, but I would suggest that this is not what Marcus Aurelius intends.

It isn’t that there is no truth or falsehood, or any right or wrong, or that we can never know anything with certainty. It is rather that how we think about things, our opinions, estimations, or judgments, will directly shape how we live, and that by changing our thinking we can determine whether we find happiness or misery.

It is my own thinking that will bring me closer to Nature, or make me drift further away from it. All is opinion, because that is the only thing that will make or break me. It isn’t my circumstances that make me troubled or content, angry or accepting, hateful or loving. Conflict or peace are not states given to me, but something I make of what is given.

Having spent most of my adult life accompanied by the Black Dog has often felt like a curse, something no one, not even my worst enemy, should ever have to endure. Yet I have also, in a rather odd sort of way, learned to turn it into a blessing. I have sat down and talked it through endlessly with fancy professionals, I have been on all sorts of pills whose names I can’t pronounce, and I have tried to exorcise my demons with prayer.

Yet the Black Dog never went away, and over the years he actually seemed to become bigger and stronger. No matter, let me make good use of him, as much as he claws, and bites, and blocks my light. He is as important to me as I make him out to be.

Does it hurt? Good, let me learn some compassion from it. Does he fill me with doubt? Good, let me struggle all the harder to find certainty. Does he tell me I should surrender, that my life is not worth living? Good, let me live all the more. Let me smile through my tears, and let me wash myself clean with them.

The only thing that ever kept the Black Dog on his leash was the way I thought about him, and how I decided to understand what was happening to me. He never went away, but he doesn’t have to. I have used him to become better. What little kindness and decency I have in me actually came from having him around.

I won’t find that calm and peaceful bay somewhere out there, but only within myself. I will do this by using my reason, that little Divine spark within me, that can find meaning and purpose in anything and everything. I can keep what benefits me, and leave what harms me.

Written in 9/2009

Ecclesiastes 10:12-15

[12] The words of a wise man's mouth win him favor,
but the lips of a fool consume him.
[13] The beginning of the words of his mouth is foolishness,
and the end of his talk is wicked madness.
[14] A fool multiplies words,
though no man knows what is to be,
and who can tell him what will be after him?
[15] The toil of a fool wearies him,
so that he does not know the way to the city.

Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 12.21

Consider that before long you will be nobody and nowhere, nor will any of the things exist that you now see, nor any of those who are now living.

For all things are formed by Nature to change and be turned, and to perish, in order that other things in continuous succession may exist.

—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, Book 12.21 (tr Long)

A phrase I remember quite commonly in my younger days was “being somebody.” I honestly did not understand what was meant. You already exist, and you are already a somebody, so what is it that you are supposed to add to yourself?

Will you try to become a better man, perhaps wiser, kinder, gentler, more loving, or more committed to being just? No, that wasn’t what they meant. They were talking about making themselves more important, and by that they meant making a spectacle of themselves. They would be seen, they would be admired, and they would be remembered.

And all we had to do to understand the vanity of this was to actually study history, not as an academic discipline, but as the concrete practice of learning from those who walked the very same path we are now walking.

None of it lasts, and yet it was the lasting that was wanted. None of it gratifies, yet it was the gratification that was wanted. Not a one of the players will care for us after we are no longer useful to them, yet the names and legacies were expected to remain.

Someone I loved very dearly once told me why she would not join me in a life of quiet contentment, completely unknown, owning very little in the world, while still owning ourselves. “No, I’m making a name for myself. And you’re a loser if you won’t keep up.” Ouch. Those words still hurt.

A name? What’s in a name? It’s a label, and nothing more. Look to what it points toward, and consider that. There is a feeble body, strong and beautiful for but a moment, and there are all sorts of shiny toys to be bought, to be abandoned as soon as our flighty attention passes, and there are fancy titles to be attained, to be forgotten as soon as the next great hero comes around.

And then there are the things that can be completely mine, right now, and do not require any greater permanence. They are also gone in the blink of an eye, but they give glory for the brief time they are here: the openness to understand, the conviction to do right, the discipline to be my own master, the willingness to love my neighbor.

Everything, absolutely everything, in this life will pass. It is right for it to do so, because this makes it possible for something else to come into being. All that remains is “being somebody” with conscience and with character, just for a minute, and being grateful that someone or something else will take its turn after me. There is no need to ask for more.

Written in 9/2009

The Art of Peace 37

Even though our path is completely different from the warrior arts of the past, it is not necessary to abandon totally the old ways. Absorb venerable traditions into this Art by clothing them with fresh garments, and build on the classic styles to create better forms. 

Sometimes?

Acid Jazz, a now completely forgotten genre of music, was a big part of helping me to survive. There was pop in it, there was funk in it, and there was always hope in it.

I tortured my parents one day, after I had just seen the lost love of my life smooching with a smarmy fellow at a bar. There was nothing new there, but it hurt so much just the same.

She was wearing that exact same little black dress she had worn when I first met her, all those many years ago, and she had on the very same boots my mother had bought for her on her birthday.

I wanted to cry, but I played my music instead. I put on the new album by the Brand New Heavies, and I forced my poor father to listen.

Like any good father, he humored me. He listened to the the music. He had grown up on old school rock n' roll, yet he always cared about what I cared about. Don't ever tell him I said it, but he was always the most patient man I ever knew.

"That's a great tune. There's only one problem."

"Huh?"

"The singer says you have to do right sometimes to be happy. She's wrong. You have you to try to do right all the time to be happy. You can't be a faithful man one day, and an adulterer the next. So play the song, but replace 'sometimes' with 'always'."

That has stuck with me, like the strongest glue, to this very day. I sat there, drinking cheap beer, and my father had the decency to teach me something I needed to hear.

Brand New Heavies, "Sometimes", from Shelter (1997)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5ctC6Kl5O70

Gotta do right, you gotta do right, ah sometimes

Talking about a revolution, or maybe just a change of mind
Working on my constitution, I began to realize
I've been doing wrong forever, trouble was my favorite game, yeah
Breaking hearts I thought was so clever
But I'm the one who got hurt playing

I never could see it comin', no
Never could feel it until it's come and gone
But all of that don't mean nothin', no
When you're all alone, oh

Sometimes you gotta do right to be happy
One time you gotta believe in what you feel inside
Sometimes you gotta do right to find happiness, yeah
Sometimes, sometimes

Gotta do right, 'cha gotta do right, ah, sometimes

You're lookin' at a transformation
That's brought about a change in me
Love's a brand new situation, never have I felt so free

'Cause I can see it comin', yeah
And I can hear it callin' louder now
Lovin' is so rewardin', yeah
When you let it out

Sometimes you gotta do right to be happy
One time you gotta believe in what you feel inside
Sometimes you gotta do right to find happiness
Sometimes, sometimes

Sometimes you gotta do right to be happy
One time you gotta believe in what you feel inside
Sometimes you gotta do right to find happiness, oh yeah
Sometimes, sometimes

Gotta do right, you gotta do right, ah sometimes, sometimes

Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 12.20

First, do nothing inconsiderately, or without a purpose.

Second, make your acts refer to nothing else than to a social end.

—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, Book 12.20 (tr Long)

Yes, I might dismissively say, this is obvious advice. I should think about why I am doing something, and I should think about whom I am doing it for. Tell me something I don’t already know.

Well, I am being quite complacent, because I should take notice of how many times I completely fail to take that very advice.

I should take notice of how many other people around me will totally disregard it, even as they nod their heads in agreement.

I should take notice of how many of our problems arise from not even knowing what we are doing, let alone why we are doing it, or who ought to benefit.

Am I making it my purpose to act according to my own nature as a human being? In other words, am I making my moral worth my highest worth?

Is that purpose in cooperation with the purpose of other human beings, and with that of Nature as a whole? In other words, am I respecting the moral worth of others?

It turns out I’m not always being as a considerate as I would like to claim. Being considerate, after all, isn’t just about appearing decent, but about being decent.

Let me consider quite carefully that I am a creature defined by my reason and choice, by the power to know and to love, yet I am still treating wealth, pleasure, and power as if they were somehow ends.

Let me consider quite carefully that others are made for precisely the same purpose as myself, to know and to love, yet I am still treating their good as if it were somehow in conflict with my own.

Simply “winging it” in life is hardly a plan. It’s all nice and well to have my career and finances figured out for the next forty years, but it will mean nothing if I don’t have my sense of right and wrong figured out for right now.

Written in 9/2009

Sayings of Heraclitus 11

Every beast is driven to pasture with blows.

Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 12.19

Perceive at last that you have in you something better and more divine than the things that cause the various affects, and as it were pull you by the strings.

What is there now in my mind—is it fear, or suspicion, or desire, or anything of the kind?

—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, Book 12.19 (tr Long)

There was a time when the Stoic claim that my own thoughts and decisions were within my power seemed quite confusing, because my mind would seem to race here and there, following a pattern I could not seem to understand, influenced by a barrage of changing images.

Show me one thing, and I might feel desire, and then my very thinking would be occupied with how to find gratification. Show me another thing, and I might feel fear, and then my very thinking would be consumed by terror. My thoughts just seemed to go their own way, following after various appearances and associations.

It has only been slow practice, and the gradual building of habit, that has allowed me to gain more mastery of myself, much like the repeated exercise of a muscle builds its strength.

I am, unfortunately, very far from being as proficient as I need to be, and a lapse of attentiveness can easily find me giving in to anger, or lust, or despair. Yet the key, I have found, is in recognizing that I am the one who chooses to give in, to surrender, and to allow myself to be pushed and pulled by my impressions.

The only things that will “happen” to my thinking is whatever I allow to happen. Once I know that I have complete possession of my own judgments, I also know that I am the only obstacle to rightly exercising them.

Of course I will be confronted with many feelings, with extremes of pleasure and pain, but I am also able to leave them exactly where they are. Let them speak, as is in their nature, but let my mind decide what to make of them, as is in its nature. I am a creature of instinct and of passion, but I am also a creature of intellect and of will.

Watch people with their dogs in the park, and you will notice that some of them are walking their dogs, while others are being walked by their dogs. Don’t blame the poor dogs, but look to the owners, hardly masters at all, who haven’t learned to tame the beasts.

“I feel like I can’t keep my thoughts on a leash!” Yes, I can, but it will be a self-fulfilling prophecy if I already start by assuming that my mind is not inherently mine to direct.

Written in 9/2009

Dhammapada 63

The fool who knows his foolishness, is wise at least so far. But a fool who thinks himself wise, he is called a fool indeed. 

And We Made Fun of Donald Rumsfeld. . .

Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 12.18

In everything always observe what the thing is which produces for you an appearance, and resolve it by dividing it into the formal, the material, the purpose, and the time within which it must end.

—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, Book 12.18 (tr Long)

There is the way something at first looks to me, the way something smells and tastes to me, the way something feels to me, and then behind all of that is the way it is, in and of itself. The difference between the appearance and the reality can be quite great, even as the former is produced from my estimation out of the latter.

At many times, I have assumed that I can’t get beyond the way my own passions affect my perceptions. This is a statement of despair, an act of surrender to my lesser side, because in addition to my desires and inclinations, I am also gifted with my greater side, my reason. As frustrating as it may seem, it is a matter of discernment, of separating, slowly but surely, what is presented to me from what I am adding out of my preferences.

She was so seductive, though the seduction was in my own desire, not in her. If I had considered more closely, I would have understood how the outside image revealed an inner sickness.

He was so charming, though the charm was in my own thinking, not in him. If I had considered more closely, I would have understood how the outside presentation revealed an inner vice.

It was so tempting, though the temptation was in my own hopelessness, not in the circumstance. If I had considered more closely, I would have understood how the outside allure revealed an inner emptiness.

That same pattern will play itself out, again and again, until I look behind the mask.

What is it? Be warned, it is not always how it first come across.

What is it made of? Looking at the humble parts often discloses the illusion of the appealing whole.

Why is it here? What end does it serve? What I may want from it is not the same as what it is made for.

How long is it meant to be? It speaks to me as timeless and complete, though it is passing and broken.

As long as I am only feeling instead of also judging, I will remain forever an intellectual and moral infant. 

Written in 9/2009