And so it remains for me to say
that the man who is unwilling to exert himself almost always convicts himself
as unworthy of good, since "we gain every good by toil." These words
and others like them he then spoke, exhorting and urging his listeners to look
upon hardship with disdain.
It has
nothing to do with being the strongest fellow on the block, or showing how
tough I am, or proving that pain won’t make me cry.
In order
to be as strong as Nature intended me to be, I must master no one but myself.
My character improves not by fighting against ever-bigger opponents, but by
making something good out of any opposition I might face. I do indeed cry, even
when it is only on the inside, and I know that there is no shame in crying;
there is only shame in no longer caring.
I
suppose Stoicism gets some of its bad reputation when people see talk like this,
involving hardship, and struggle, and endurance, and then they assume it must
all be about a cold and heartless fight to the death, where the first man to
wince or grimace must necessarily lose. This will only happen, however, if I
misunderstand the nature of circumstances on the one hand, and the nature of
courage on the other.
I always
remind myself that Stoic indifference does not mean that I shouldn’t care, but
it rather means that I should learn what is most important to care for, and how
to then go about caring for it.
Things
will happen to me in life, many of them totally unexpected, most of them quite
beyond my power to control. They have come to pass for a reason, under the
order of Providence, even when that order is not immediately apparent to me.
Sometimes
they will bring me pleasure, and sometimes they will bring me pain, yet behind
all of my preferences, I must ask only one thing: how should these
circumstances be put to the best use? They will only become good or bad for me
by how I respond to them, whether with virtue or with vice. That is the
standard by which all human actions must be judged.
An
obstacle, therefore, is not something I am fighting against, but actually something I should be working with. The effort is not in conquering
the world, or hating anyone or anything, but is only in bringing myself into
harmony with the world. I will venture to say that courage is actually about
transforming suffering into joy, not just begrudgingly putting up with
suffering.
So I
train myself to understand that only a loving man can be brave, and that every brave
man must first be consumed by his love. It is precisely because he knows what
to care for the most, both in himself and in others, and because he sees what
is noble and good in every human spirit, that he is willing to dedicate all his
actions, however difficult they may seem, toward this highest human good.
Hardship
stops feeling so unbearable when I think of it in this way, just as any work
can become a blessing when I recognize the worth of what I am working for.
Suffering is now an opportunity, just as work is now deeply satisfying. I will
gladly give my best for the best, and I will not need to complain; I can show
gratitude for the chance to do something right.
“But I
have lost so much!” No, I have lost nothing at all, if I know what is properly
mine. I have only been given the possibility to improve what is mine.
“But the
effort is more than I can bear!” No, the degree of my effort is in proportion
to the degree of my commitment. Let me change what I love, and then I will
change how much I am willing to give for love.
“We gain
every good by toil.” I believe Musonius is here quoting Epicharmus of Kos. These
words may seem discouraging, since toil sounds like such a terrible thing. Let
me reconsider what it means to toil, and it will not seem so harsh. I can then
only be encouraged.
All life
is action, and the value of life is found in the end toward which that action
is directed. Some actions feel easier, and some action feel harder, and I will
tie myself in knots if I focus on the degree of work required. I could, rather,
focus on the dignity of the goal, and then the work is a privilege.
Written in 8/1999
IMAGE: Epicharmus of Kos
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