Tidbits from Montaigne 8

I want death to find me planting my cabbages. 

—Michel de Montaigne, Essays 1.20

Seneca, On Peace of Mind 9.5

Let a man, then, obtain as many books as he wants, but none for show.

"It is more respectable," say you, "to spend one's money on such books than on vases of Corinthian brass and paintings."

Not so: everything that is carried to excess is wrong. What excuses can you find for a man who is eager to buy bookcases of ivory and citrus wood, to collect the works of unknown or discredited authors, and who sits yawning amid so many thousands of books, whose backs and titles please him more than any other part of them?

As I grow older, I become ever more conscious of the confusion between appearance and reality. As we place greater value on externals over internals, we also focus our attention on the impressions of things instead of the nature of things. We settle only for how it feels, failing to look through at what it is. Passion ceases to be tempered by reason.

It saddens me when I see the disconnect in others, and it shames me when I see it within myself. The temptation runs deep, if for no other reason than how the inaction of conformity seems so much more comfortable than the action of reflection.

I detect even the odd contradiction of following a certain image that vainly insists upon following no image at all, of buying and selling masks of manufactured individuality, of caring that others take notice of how we pretend not to care what they think of us.

It would be easy to blame a love of wealth for all this, but I suspect it goes far deeper than just giving everything a dollar value. Money can itself be yet another convenient veneer to cover up any natural worth. No, I wonder if the root cause is a fear of genuinely being ourselves, sheepishly expressed in becoming whatever we believe the fashion of the hour tells us we must be.

Such posing and posturing can be found in all aspects of life, even as I have personally experienced it most closely in the field of education. Some people promote their images through the lure of sex, and others through the intoxication of power, and yet others through the illusion of insight. For those who are impressed by the trappings of culture and refinement, clever phrases can be as seductive as pouty lips.

If I wish to only appear as thoughtful and profound, books can become the perfect accessory. I need not read them, of course, only display them, and I have then presented a package of how I would like to be perceived. It can be as simple as having a collection of poems casually peeking out of my bag, or as grand as filling an entire room with trophies of intellectual status.

The next time I open a book, let me be certain I am not intent on being admired. The next time I add a volume to my library, let my concern be for how understanding its contents might improve my soul, not for how showing it off will increase my reputation. 

Written in 10/2011

Verbum

M.C. Escher, Verbum (1942)

Diogenes and Alexander

Here are a few different images of the legendary meeting between Alexander the Great and Diogenes of Sinope.

The stories about their conversation may well be apocryphal, but they are nevertheless quite telling.

It is said Diogenes was relaxing one fine day, and Alexander approached him imperiously, asking, "What can Alexander do for Diogenes?"

"Stay out of my sunlight!" came the reply.

Perhaps Alexander was feeling especially noble that day, so instead of becoming angry at such impudence, he took it kindly. "If I was not Alexander, I would wish to be Diogenes!"

"And if I was not Diogenes," said the philosopher, "then I would still wish to be Diogenes!"

Another version has Alexander finding Diogenes picking through a pile of bones.

"What are you doing, Diogenes?"

"I am searching for the bones of your father, but I cannot seem to tell them apart from the bones of a slave."

Thomas Christian Wink (1782)
Bartholomeus Breenbergh (early 1600's)
Jacques Gamelin (1763)
Casper de Crayer (c. 1630)
School of Giovanni Francesco Romanelli (early 1600's)
Gaetano Gandolfi (1792)
Jan Thomas (1672)
Jean-Baptiste Regnault (1776)
Matvei Ivanovich Puchinov (1762)
Nicolas-Andre Monsiau (1818)
Pierre Paul Sevin (c. 1700)
Ivan Tupylev (1787)
Giovan Battista Langetti (c.1650)
Sebastiano Ricci (c. 1700)

Dhammapada 78

Do not have evil-doers for friends, do not have low people for friends.

Have virtuous people for friends, have for friends the best of men. 

Musonius Rufus, Lectures 9.10

But tell me, my friend, when Diogenes was in exile at Athens, or when he was sold by pirates and came to Corinth, did anyone, Athenian or Corinthian, ever exhibit greater freedom of speech than he? And again, were any of his contemporaries freer than Diogenes? Why, even Xeniades, who bought him, he ruled as a master rules a slave.

But why should I employ examples of long ago? Are you not aware that I am an exile? Well, then, have I been deprived of freedom of speech? Have I been bereft of the privilege of saying what I think? Have you or anyone else ever seen me cringing before anyone just because I am an exile, or thinking that my lot is worse now than formerly?

No, I'll wager that you would say that you have never seen me complaining or disheartened because of my banishment, for if I have been deprived of my country, I have not been deprived of my ability to endure exile.

I am always pleased to see Diogenes offered as an example, because I have a special attachment to his unconventional manner of thinking and living, much to the frustration of those who know me. I heartily nod in agreement when Musonius repeatedly refers to Diogenes in this lecture, knowing how powerful an inspiration that bewildering man can be, having made so much of himself out of so little, and willing to see every obstacle as an opportunity.

But why only look to the lives of strangers from the past, when we can also look to our own situations, right here and now, to strengthen our commitments? Musonius finally reminds us that he is also an exile, and that this has hindered him no more than it did Diogenes.

I am not certain exactly when the Lectures were originally presented or written down, but Musonius, following in the footsteps of Diogenes, was exiled twice from Rome, once under Nero, and then later under Vespasian. I suppose the best philosophers, those who truly embrace the task, have a knack for making themselves quite unwelcome by those who wish to maintain their power.

Our own personal experiences might not be as dramatic as those of Diogenes, or even of Musonius, yet they can still support exactly the same lessons in life. Most anyone will know something of how it feels to be left out, to be cast aside, to be considered unworthy of attention.

I have never been kicked out of a city or a country, not for want of trying, though I have been fired from a job for speaking my mind, and I have found myself socially shunned by all the members of a local church for bringing up things that were considered unmentionable. Though the scale was obviously not as grand, it still taught me that who I am is not determined by where I am, and that character is not measured by circumstance.

There was never any formal proclamation to it, and only my immediate family know anything of how it all happened, but there also came a moment when I realized I could never go back to my old neighborhood without causing myself terrible harm. It has been one of the most unpleasant events of my life, and at the same time one of the most formative events of my life. There is nothing like losing the familiar and beloved to help you cling all the more tightly to what is truly your own.

I once got to know a fellow, a fiery and impassioned journalist, who was forced to flee his home country with his family in the middle of the night, and then spent the next two decades in the United States.

He would occasionally have me over for tea, and though he had a flair for the melodramatic, I couldn’t help but be moved when he would point to his head and his heart, slowly saying, “Home is here . . . and here.”

He never returned, even after the government that had harassed him was overthrown, because he insisted that “changing the color of the flags doesn’t change the nature of the tyrants.” I like to imagine him, Diogenes, and Musonius now having a good laugh together.

Barely a day passes when I am not also deeply impressed by some of the people I meet in the most unassuming of situations, who had to leave their homes on account of poverty or oppression, and who will still find a way to live in peace and joy. I am not so much interested in the angry politics of it, as I am in the genuine humanity of it. I see myself complaining about the pettiest of things, and they show me what a spoiled brat I can be.

Exile, deprivation, and hardship are unable to stop me from understanding and loving, and so they are unable to stop me from living well.

Written in 12/2016

Epictetus, Golden Sayings 120

Does a Philosopher apply to people to come and hear him? Does he not rather, of his own nature, attract those that will be benefited by him—like the sun that warms, the food that sustains them? 

What Physician applies to men to come and be healed? (Though indeed I hear that the Physicians at Rome do nowadays apply for patients—in my time they were applied to.) 

"I apply to you to come and hear that you are in an evil case; that what deserves your attention most is the last thing to gain it; that you know not good from evil, and are in short a hapless wretch."

A fine way to apply! Though unless the words of the Philosopher affect you thus, speaker and speech are alike dead. 

Skull

Albrecht Dürer, Skull (1521)

Aesop's Fables 20

The Fox and the Mask

A Fox had by some means got into the store-room of a theater. Suddenly he observed a face glaring down on him, and began to be very frightened; but looking more closely he found it was only a Mask, such as actors use to put over their face. 

"Ah," said the Fox, "you look very fine; it is a pity you have not got any brains." 

Outside show is a poor substitute for inner worth.

Seneca, On Peace of Mind 9.4

What is the use of possessing numberless books and libraries, whose titles their owner can hardly read through in a lifetime? A student is overwhelmed by such a mass, not instructed, and it is much better to devote yourself to a few writers than to skim through many.

Forty thousand books were burned at Alexandria: some would have praised this library as a most noble memorial of royal wealth, like Titus Livius, who says that it was "a splendid result of the taste and attentive care of the kings."

It had nothing to do with taste or care, but was a piece of learned luxury, no, not even learned, since they amassed it, not for the sake of learning, but to make a show, like many men who know less about letters than a slave is expected to know, and who uses his books not to help him in his studies but to ornament his dining room.

Many people are under the impression that the academic world is a profound and lofty place, inspired by the noble love of truth and a selfless commitment to service. This is sadly not the case. You will indeed find some truly decent folks in what they call higher learning, just as you will also find decent folks most anywhere else, but in the end, it is shamefully reduced to a business like all the others.

The driving force is still profit, and while it isn’t merely a matter of getting rich, there is much squabbling, scheming, and backstabbing going on in order to win the greatest status and fame. In this sense, “scholars” must become masters of promoting an image if they wish to survive in their field.

What matters most is not what you know, but having the confidence and the cleverness to give the appearance that you know. One forges alliances of convenience in order to be considered an authority and pays out favors in order to be revered as an expert. The most effective tool is ultimately to denigrate others, politely and dryly in public, viciously and passionately in private. Through it all, a refined smugness is an absolute requirement.

They really don’t like it when you point this out, just like politicians get deeply offended when you question their honesty.

I can only blame myself for having fallen for this, lock, stock, and barrel. I was especially taken with the idea of being “well read”, of presenting the illusion that I was fluent in all the most important works of philosophy and literature, hoping that I could drop the most insightful quotes and relevant references with barely an effort.

I still cringe when I think of that ever-growing list I had throughout high school and college, of all the books I was sure others expected me to be familiar with. I was convinced I had it made when my peers looked on in envy, while my professors pretended to be impressed. What a waste, what a foolish game, what a pack of lies. The issue was never about learning at all, but about making a show of learning, of turning it into a circus act.

As with all things shallow and vain, there was a great love of breadth at the expense of depth, of believing that more was better. I read very little, but glanced over very much, such that I saw it as a weakness instead of a strength to admit that I didn’t know something. Piles and piles of books, strategically strewn across shelves and desks, became like substitutes for actual understanding.

My alma mater would brag about the scope of their library, while still being quite jealous that the Ivy League school down the street had four times as many volumes. One fiery professor, who was never afraid to speak his mind, and so never received tenure, described it quite well: “What does it matter how many books we have? When was the last time you saw any of our students actually reading them, except to extract a reference for a bibliography?”

I learned the hard way that if I even felt the need to tell people that I had read it, I probably hadn’t read it at all, or at least not for any of the right reasons.

I have no doubt that many great books were lost when the library at Alexandria fell into ruin; I have often dreamed about reading some of those texts that never survived into the modern era, like Aristotle’s dialogues, or the writings of the early Stoics and Cynics, and I wonder if they might still be here if history had unfolded just a little bit differently.

Yet Seneca is quite right. It was never the gathering together of books, at any time or in any place, that made anyone decent. A commitment needs to be made, one soul at a time, to the act of living well, with eyes wide open.

I once met a fellow, with virtually no formal schooling, who had built a system of life values around a worn and tattered copy of the Handbook by Epictetus, given to him by his mother. He knew nothing about who wrote it, or when it was written, or why it mattered in the grand scale of intellectual history.

When I spoke to him of Stoicism, or of other authors, he simply shrugged. All he knew was that his mother read it, and because he loved her, he read it too. There was a man who was far better than I could ever be.

The world doesn’t become a better place because we stockpile knowledge; the world becomes a better place when individual people choose to live with wisdom, however humble its scale. A single book read with love is far more important than many books displayed out of pride.

Written in 10/2011

Three Spheres II

M.C. Escher, Three Spheres II (1946)

Thomas a Kempis, The Imitation of Christ 3.12

Of the inward growth of patience, and of the struggle against evil desires

1. O Lord God, I see that patience is very necessary unto me; for many things in this life fall out contrary. For howsoever I may have contrived for my peace, my life cannot go on without strife and trouble.

2. "You speak truly, My Son. For I will not that you seek such a peace as is without trials, and know no adversities; but rather that you should judge yourself to have found peace, when you are tried with manifold tribulations, and proved by many adversities. If you shall say that you are not able to bear much, how then will you sustain the fire hereafter? Of two evils we should always choose the less. Therefore, that you may escape eternal torments hereafter, strive on God's behalf to endure present evils bravely. Think you that the children of this world suffer nothing, or but little? You will not find it so, even though you find out the most prosperous.

3. "'But,' you will say, 'they have many delights, and they follow their own wills, and thus they bear lightly their tribulations.'

4. "Be it so, grant that they have what they list; but how long, think you, will it last? Behold, like the smoke those who are rich in this world will pass away, and no record shall remain of their past joys. Yes, even while they yet live, they rest not without bitterness and weariness and fear. For from the very same thing wherein they find delight, thence they oftentimes have the punishment of sorrow. Justly it befalls them, that because out of measure they seek out and pursue pleasures, they enjoy them not without confusion and bitterness. Oh how short, how false, how inordinate and wicked are all these pleasures! Yet because of their sottishness and blindness men do not understand; but like brute beasts, for the sake of a little pleasure of this corruptible life, they incur death of the soul.You  therefore, my son, go not after your lusts, but refrain yourself from your appetites. Delight you in the Lord, and He shall give you your heart's desire.

5. "For if you will truly find delight, and be abundantly comforted of Me, behold in the contempt of all worldly things and in the avoidance of all worthless pleasures shall be your blessing, and fullness of consolation shall be given you. And the more you withdraw yourself from all solace of creatures, the more sweet and powerful consolations shall you find. But at the first you shall not attain to them, without some sorrow and hard striving. Long-accustomed habit will oppose, but it shall be overcome by better habit. The flesh will murmur again and again, but will be restrained by fervor of spirit. The old serpent will urge and embitter you, but will be put to flight by prayer; moreover, by useful labor his entrance will be greatly obstructed."

Boethius, The Consolation of Philosophy 4.31

“But you will ask, ‘What more unjust confusion could exist than that good men should sometimes enjoy prosperity, sometimes suffer adversity, and that the bad too should sometimes receive what they desire, sometimes what they hate?’

“Are then men possessed of such infallible minds that they, whom they consider honest or dishonest, must necessarily be what they are held to be? No, in these matters human judgment is at variance with itself, and those who are held by some to be worthy of reward, are by others held worthy of punishment.

“But let us grant that a man could discern between good and bad characters. Can he therefore know the inmost feelings of the soul, as a doctor can learn a body's temperature? For it is no less a wonder to the ignorant why sweet things suit one sound body, while bitter things suit another; or why some sick people are aided by gentle draughts, others by sharp and bitter ones.

“But a doctor does not wonder at such things, for he knows the ways and constitutions of health and sickness. And what is the health of the soul but virtue? and what the sickness, but vice? And who is the preserver of the good and banisher of the evil, who but God, the guardian and healer of minds?”

—from Book 4, Prose 6

I become far too hasty in my judgment, too narrow in my scope, when I am ever so quick to determine who should be rewarded and who should be punished. I first commit the error of making foolish assumptions about what is right and wrong to begin with, and I then compound it by thinking I fully apprehend the hearts and minds of others, that I can see all their most hidden intentions, and grasp all the circumstances they have had to face.

Who am I to flippantly decide such things? Let me spend some of that time and energy attending to myself, and slowly learning something more about the deeper workings of Providence.

We are easily tempted to give legal, or financial, or medical advice, even if we know next to nothing about such matters. I sometimes observe that it is precisely those who understand the least who will often dictate to us the most. I would be best served by trusting competent and experienced lawyers, bankers, and doctors over the loud fellow at the end of the bar.

Should it be any different when it comes to questions of morality and justice? Pay heed to the lover of wisdom, who has humbly and carefully learned a little something of his own nature, and the order within all of Nature. He will advise patience and compassion, an open mind and an open heart.

A fine doctor will comprehend the nature of the disease, as well as the nature of the cure; he sees what is wrong, and then how to make it right. Even when I can’t figure out all the difficult terms or the mysterious causes he speaks of, I will trust that he can make me well. How odd that I will gladly follow his directions to heal my body, but I stubbornly refuse to follow God’s directions to heal my soul.

I ought to step back. Have I truly made sense of what is good or bad for a human being, right to the very core? Am I too easily impressed by the appearance instead of the content? Perhaps what is worthy of praise or blame is very different than I at first think, and my estimation of character is founded on a crafty illusion.

Why am I assuming that receiving riches, or gratification, or fame is necessarily of benefit, while receiving poverty, or hardship, or anonymity is necessarily of harm? Perhaps what I consider rewards or punishments are not that at all, but serve to assist our moral health in ways I have not foreseen.

Too often I am concerned with the accidents over the substance, and so my very measure of losses and gains is disordered. I worry about property, and luxuries, and reputation, when I should be focused on the pursuit of virtue and the avoidance of vice. Integrity is worth more than anything in my bank account, and love commands a far greater value than all the worldly vanities put together.

Once I begin to see the human good from the perspective of character, I will also begin to see that Providence prescribes prudent remedies. As long as it can encourage me to improve the excellence of my soul, it works with justice. The Doctor knows best.

Written in 11/2015

Temperantia

Edward Burne-Jones, Temperantia (1872)

Hans Holbein, The Dance of Death 10: The Empress

Musonius Rufus, Lectures 9.9

But, you insist, Euripides says that exiles lose their personal liberty when they are deprived of their freedom of speech. For he represents Jocasta asking Polynices her son what misfortunes an exile has to bear. He answers,

"One greatest of all, that he has not freedom of speech."

She replies,

"You name the plight of a slave, not to be able to say what one thinks."

But I should say in rejoinder: "You are right, Euripides, when you say that it is the condition of a slave not to say what one thinks when one ought to speak, for it is not always, nor everywhere, nor before everyone that we should say what we think.

“But that one point, it seems to me, is not well-taken, that exiles do not have freedom of speech, if to you freedom of speech means not suppressing whatever one chances to think. For it is not as exiles that men fear to say what they think, but as men afraid lest from speaking pain or death or punishment or some such other thing shall befall them. Fear is the cause of this, not exile.

“For to many people, no to most, even though dwelling safely in their native city, fear of what seem to them dire consequences of free speech is present.

“However, the courageous man, in exile no less than at home, is dauntless in the face of all such fears; for that reason, also, he has the courage to say what he thinks equally at home or in exile."

Such are the things one might reply to Euripides.

We understandably become frustrated when we are denied the things we feel we deserve, such as a fair wage, or the security of a home, or the recognition of our peers. Nature may have rightly intended them for us, but there are still those who would forcibly keep them from us, and this is never an easy obstacle to face.

I remind myself that while I cannot always determine what is done to me, I can always determine what I will do. If another acts unjustly, it is then my place to respond justly, whatever the external conditions might be, I still retain the freedom of my own judgment.

A practical rule I keep for myself is that I should indeed fight to be treated fairly, except where my demands would force me to compromise my own virtue, or discourage the exercise of virtue in others. It may sound too simple, but it has saved me from quite a few pointless conflicts, by placing the superior and the inferior in a proper context.

Nevertheless, I will still struggle with limitations placed on my freedom of expression. It is one thing to steal my property, but quite another to muzzle my voice. As a result, I can easily grow angry, and become quite indignant, and be tempted to stomp about in protest.

Here is one way where alien forces seem to intrude on something deeply personal, and at first it feels as if it crosses that boundary between the outside and the inside of me. It makes me quite anxious, in an almost claustrophobic sense. “Stand back!” I wish to say. “You’ve gone too far this time!”

Exile, of any sort, will be like so many other changes of circumstance, where I must learn a whole new set of customs and rules, where a behavior I am accustomed to is suddenly considered quite unacceptable, where censorship can be a harsh irritant. But let me ask myself honestly if anything has really been lost, and if the limitation on my freedoms is ultimately of my own making, not made by others at all.

“But they won’t let me speak my mind or say what I truly think! I’ve been put in a place where I can’t be myself!”

Let me be very careful. Have I been denied the power to think as I would choose to think? Not in any way; no one has reached into my head to change my judgments. Have I been denied the power to speak as I would I choose to speak, or to act as I would choose to act? Again, let me be very careful. Are all of the modes of my communication and expression closed off to me?

Back in grammar school, during one of those regular moments where a set of bullies enjoyed throwing their weight around, I was held down by two fellows, while a third covered my mouth with his hand so that I wouldn’t yell out. I was then slowly told by the fourth that I would be required to literally kiss his bare ass, or I would be “hurt like I’d never hurt before!”

In hindsight, such a demand tells me quite a bit about such people. I later came across many variations over the years, more refined in form but identical in content.

What could I do? I winked at him, twisting my face in the most exaggerated and ridiculous way I could manage. He didn’t like this at all, and slapped me across the face a few times. They finally grew tired of their plan, departing on their way after planting a few kicks.

Sometimes the smallest gesture, the slightest glance, the tiniest expression can take on the greatest significance. That is still freedom.

Why will I not act as I should? Barring incapacitation or death, it is only my own fear that stands in the way. As overwhelming as it may seem, I can master my fear, just as I can master my anger or my lust, with patient and caring attention. It may not happen overnight, but it can happen with conviction and fortitude.

Exile has never done me any wrong. Neither being at home nor being abroad will change the fact that my choices are only as good as my priorities. How much does it hurt? Does it hurt enough to violate my values? My values are only as good as they are important to me.

I can express myself at most any time, in most any place. Just two things matter: do I know that I am living the truth, and am I willing to surrender everything else for its sake? It is my decision, and that decision belongs to no one else.

 Written in 12/2016

IMAGE: Euripedes

 

Stoic Snippets 22

The ruling power within, when it is in its natural state, is so related to outer circumstances that it easily changes to accord with what can be done and what is given it to do.

—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 4.1

Youth with Executioner

Albrecht Dürer, Youth with Executioner (c. 1493)

Elements

M.C. Escher, Four Elements (Earth/Air/Fire/Water), New Year's Greeting Cards (1953-56)

Vanitas 11

Pieter Claesz, Still Life with a Skull and a Writing Quill (1628)

Seneca, On Peace of Mind 9.3

Let us then teach ourselves to be able to dine without all Rome to look on, to be the slaves of fewer slaves, to get clothes that fulfill their original purpose, and to live in a smaller house.

The inner curve is the one to take, not only in running races and in the contests of the circus, but also in the race of life; even literary pursuits, the most becoming thing for a gentleman to spend money upon, are only justifiable as long as they are kept within bounds.

To take the most direct path, to make do with just what is needed, to be bound by very little, and to be content with Nature alone will be the surest aids in living the happiest life possible.

It is not necessary to complicate, to ornament and accessorize, to carry the weight of luxuries, or to seek to be seen and admired. We think we become stronger by tying ourselves to external diversions, only to find that they are dragging us along after them.

Someone once told me that my interest in Stoicism rested on the false premise that the circumstances of my life were largely outside of my control. He prodded me to expand the scope of my outside influence, not merely to settle for being myself. I was willing to listen, because surely a man dies inside when he is no longer open to learning something new.

“Look, it isn’t that you can’t have all those things, it’s just that you haven’t figured out how to go about getting them. You need to be smarter in working your way up the ladder, you need to suck up a little more over here, and impose your will more over there. Stop being so damned principled, and be more flexible, otherwise you won’t get what you want!”

For a time, those words made me feel rather confused. Perhaps I was just too weak, or not clever enough, or unwilling to look the other way? It took me a while to get my priorities back in order. This wasn’t a question of being strong enough to get what I wanted; it was a question of being wise enough to know what I wanted.

Let me, for the moment, assume that I could have the power to shape the world according to my own will. This would require, of course, the most remarkable concurrence of events, but even given such a possibility, is that something I should pursue?

Make me ever so mighty, far-seeing, and charming! Would it make any difference in what constitutes a good life?

None of the other possessions will matter, if I did not first possess myself, and once I possess myself, I will in turn require very little else in any event. The temptation to becoming a manipulator comes only from having nothing of one’s own to begin with. What else do I have if I don’t have the principles of my conscience?

I was glad to respect this fellow’s right to think and live as he chose, and I meant him no ill will, but it threw me for a loop that he wasn’t a banker, or a lawyer, or an investor, but rather a college professor. Here was an academic, a man who was supposed to value wisdom above all else, and yet he spoke of compromising his soul for worldly profit.

It is interesting that Seneca will now finish this chapter with a consideration of the vanity, ostentation, and greed of certain types of “scholars”. The lust for acquisition is hardly limited to a desire for money. 

Written in 10/2011

Wisdom from the Bhagavad Gita 13

The Blessed Lord said:

1. I told this imperishable Yoga to Vivasvat; Vivasvat told it to Manu; and Manu told it to Ikshvâku.

2. Thus handed down in regular succession, the royal sages knew it. This Yoga, by long lapse of time, declined in this world, O burner of foes.

3. I have this day told you that same ancient Yoga, for you are My devotee, and My friend, and this secret is profound indeed. 

Arjuna said: 

4. Later was Your birth, and that of Vivasvat prior; how then should I understand that You told this in the beginning? 

The Blessed Lord said: 

5. Many are the births that have been passed by Me and you, O Arjuna. I know them all, while you know not, O scorcher of foes. 

6. Though I am unborn, of changeless nature and Lord of beings, yet subjugating My Prakriti, I come into being by My own Mâyâ (Appearance). 

7. Whenever, O descendant of Bharata, there is decline of Dharma, and rise of Adharma, then I body Myself forth. 

8. For the protection of the good, for the destruction of the wicked, and for the establishment of Dharma, I come into being in every age. 

9. He who thus knows, in true light, My divine birth and action, leaving the body, is not born again: he attains to Me, O Arjuna.

10. Freed from attachment, fear, and anger, absorbed in Me, taking refuge in Me, purified by the fire of Knowledge, many have attained My Being. 

—Bhagavad Gita, 4:1-10

IMAGE: The Dashavatara, the ten avatars of Vishnu