Sun of Justice

Albrecht Dürer, Sol Iustitiae (The Sun of Justice), (c. 1500)

Seneca, On Peace of Mind 14.3

Zeno, the chief of our school, when he heard the news of a shipwreck, in which all his property had been lost, remarked, "Fortune bids me follow philosophy in lighter marching order."

A tyrant threatened Theodorus with death, and even with want of burial. "You are able to please yourself," he answered, "my half pint of blood is in your power: for, as for burial, what a fool you must be if you suppose that I care whether I rot above the ground or under it."

“I have taken all of your possessions!” How wonderful that might actually end up being!

Good, now I have less stuff to carry around with me. You may have inadvertently done me a great favor. I can learn to become more while having less, and you will become less while having more.

“I will kill you, and I will make certain that your body has no final resting place!” How much better that might actually end up being!

Good, since that will not be any of my concern. You and yours will have to bear the stink, and I will still be free. I can learn to become better through my death, and you will become worse by bringing it about.

People often laugh at me when I extol the virtues of Stoicism. They tell me that I am foolish for claiming that wealth, or power, or pleasure don’t matter.

I never say that, however; I don’t say that they don’t matter, but I do say that there are other aspects of life that matter far more. I only suggest not confusing preferences with principles, accidents with essence, that which is desirable with that which is necessary. The former can only be measured by the latter.

I know many Holy Rollers, the folks who have houses full of pictures, and quilted pillows, and little knickknacks extolling how much God loves them.

“Look, here’s a picture of me kissing the ring of John Paul II!” Yes indeed, good times.

I also know many Social Justice Crusaders, the folks who have houses full of multicultural and politically correct mementos to show much they hate all of those ignorant folks they disagree with.

“Look, here’s a picture of me throwing my hot coffee in the face of a fascist cop!” Yes indeed, good times.

I would very much like to meet more people who are not interested in strutting about and putting on a show.

I would very much like more friends who look to what is within their souls, before they exclude others from their special group.

I would very much like to share my life with people who care more about me, instead of just caring about what I can do for them.

You know what? I would like to find all of that. I would deeply appreciate it, but I do not expect it. With my apologies to Colonel Frank Slade, I’ve been around, you know? I’ve seen things.

I will be no better or worse by how many times I have paid the local priest to say a Mass for me. I will be no better or worse by how many times I have been arrested for chaining myself to a tree.

I will certainly be far worse by spitting my venom on others, or somehow expecting the world to do as I command it.

I will only be far better when I take responsibility for myself, and for nothing else. Do you want to take away my stuff? Fine, it’s yours now, here it is.

Do you want to even destroy my very life? Have at it, since your taking of it is more important to you than my own living of it.

“But you’re a sinner! Your behavior is socially unacceptable!”

Whenever I am tempted to say such a hateful thing, I first try to look in the mirror. I don’t make you, and you don’t make me; we make ourselves.

Written in 12/2011

Stoic Snippets 29

Death is such as generation is, a mystery of Nature; a composition out of the same elements, and a decomposition into the same; and altogether not a thing of which any man should be ashamed, for it is not contrary to the nature of a reasonable animal, and not contrary to the reason of our constitution. 

—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 4.5

Seneca, On Peace of Mind 14.2

Both of these qualities, both that of altering nothing, and that of being dissatisfied with everything, are enemies to repose. The mind ought in all cases to be called away from the contemplation of external things to that of itself.

Let it confide in itself, rejoice in itself, admire its own works; avoid as far as may be those of others, and devote itself to itself ; let it not feel losses, and put a good construction even upon misfortunes.

Sometimes I just let the world roll over me, and then sometimes I insist on criticizing every little bit of it. On some days I refuse to change anything about by own stubborn attitude, and then on other days I am thinking or feeling something completely new at each separate moment.

These extremes will never give me peace, and the mean between them will only come from recognizing that the “things” in my life are not the problem. I don’t need to merely suffer them with frustration, and I don’t need to frantically try to go about fixing them. My attention is misdirected when I wallow in pain, and my attention is misdirected when I insist on shaping everyone and everything else to my will.

Let me attend to myself. Where I should be constant, as informed by wisdom, let me remain constant. Where I should work to improve, as informed by wisdom, let me improve.

At no time is it necessary for me to be obstinate, and at no time is it necessary for me to be flighty. It will be as it will be; now how will I choose to be?

Having been brought into this world as quite an odd fellow, I would struggle a bit more than most to be accepted or to be liked. I spent many years working toward something even grander, the hope of being loved for who I was, not from bonds of blood, or race, or creed.

I knew my own family loved me, of course, but I somehow felt they had to do that, not understanding how many sons or daughters were never even given that gift. No, I was waiting, always waiting, for a time when someone else was willing to say: “I need you.”

That’s really rather selfish, isn’t it? Take the good circumstances for granted, and then expect a completely new set of them? When I broke down completely at one point, when my fancy expectations were shattered, I started to learn the hard way, to see things a bit differently.

I can’t expect the love of another, and I can’t demand it, and I can’t claim any right to it. What I can do, however, is to decide about giving my own love, ask myself to provide respect, and offer others what I know they rightly deserve.

Am I any worse off from managing my own choices? Quite the contrary, now I am far better off. Any more will be a privilege, something I cherish, but it will not be a requirement for my happiness.

The “things” will come and go. The affections of others will come and go. I arrived here some time ago, and I will be gone before I know it. While I am still here, I have it within my power to think and act with decency.

No loss and no misfortune can deny me that opportunity. There is that elusive peace of mind, hardly, as it turns out, so elusive at all.

Written in 12/2011

The Slave Ship

J.M.W. Turner, The Slave Ship (1840)

Seneca, On Peace of Mind 14.1

Chapter 14

Moreover, we ought to cultivate an easy temper, and not become overly fond of the lot which fate has assigned to us, but transfer ourselves to whatever other condition chance may lead us to, and fear no alteration, either in our purposes or our position in life, provided that we do not become subject to caprice, which of all vices is the most hostile to repose.

For obstinacy, from which Fortune often wrings some concession, must needs be anxious and unhappy, but caprice, which can never restrain itself, must be more so.

My own temperament has long been quite the mess. I spend most of my time sitting there quietly, going about doing whatever I am told to do. I justify this on the grounds that I am letting the world be as it will be, and yet I am somehow hardly content. That last part is the root of my imbalance.

Then, from time to time, I will explode with self-righteousness. I’ve had enough, and I feel the need to put the bullies, the petty tyrants, and the abusers in their place.

They are suddenly quite shocked, having expected me to be their perfect little bitch. I do my job well, and then they can’t understand why I would revolt against their grand schemes.

They aren’t the problem at all; I am the root of my evil. If I am really happy with my work, I will demand nothing from them, and I will let them play their games. Yet I secretly want to be like them, a sucker for vanity.

There is the source of my caprice, of my uneven temper. I did indeed force myself to not want to be the king of the hill, but I suppressed the desire so much that it seeped out in other ways. This is now something I work on, from day to day.

Rage, fueled by my resentment, will never serve me well. Does that Vice President need to be knocked down a notch or two? Yes, but it isn’t my place. Does that Director require a swift kick in the ass? Yes, but my boot is not the one to do it.

Let them wallow in their glory. They already have their own reward. The Gospels are far more Stoic than you might think.

I am so busy trying to fix other people, and those other people are so busy trying to fix me. Imagine a world where we only try to fix ourselves, minding our own business, instead of condemning everyone else.

The Stoics taught me to be my own master. Jesus told me not to be the judge, lest I be judged. We all share that same commandment in common.

Written in 12/2011

IMAGE: Jan Bruegel, The Sermon on the Mount (1598)

Hans Holbein, The Dance of Death 15: The Abbess

Musonius Rufus, Lectures 13.5

With respect to character or soul one should expect that it be habituated to self-control and justice, and in a word, naturally disposed to virtue.

These qualities should be present in both man and wife. For without sympathy of mind and character between husband and wife, what marriage can be good, what partnership advantageous? How could two human beings who are base have sympathy of spirit one with the other? Or how could one that is good be in harmony with one that is bad?

No more than a crooked piece of wood could be fitted to a straight one, or two crooked ones be put together. For the crooked one will not fit another crooked one, and much less the opposite, a crooked with a straight one. So a wicked man is not friendly to a wicked one, nor does he agree with him, and much less with a good man.

What makes a person beautiful? Why should I ever wish to be close to anyone? For what reason, far more deeply, might I want to offer all of myself to another human being, all of my body and all of my soul?

I will follow Aristotle on this point, that true friendship is built upon the sharing of character, not upon any conditions of convenience.

Do I claim to love you because you are gratifying, or because you amuse me, or because you make me cry out your name in the middle of the night? Remove the pleasure, and you then remove the relationship.

Do I claim to love you because you give me something quite useful, or make my day easier, or help me to win some profit? Remove the utility, and you then remove the relationship.

Or do I claim to love you because of who you are, not because of what you have? The measure of any man, and of any woman, is the virtue in the mind and the heart. No terms or requirements can be attached to what gets right down to the core. There is the real beauty.

I love you for being you, not for what you do for me. I give myself to you, with no expectation of any other benefits. To love you is a privilege, and nothing you provide can be treated as a right.

You are my second self. This is what makes you my best friend. Even if you walked away from me, and even if you told me that I didn’t matter, you would still matter the world to me.

That isn’t sentimental bullshit; that’s what some of us still call love. It’s a choice, not merely a feeling.

I shudder with terror when I hear people say: “I will love you, as long as you love me.” That’s not love; it’s bargaining.

Mutual friendship in general, and the love of marriage in particular, as the most perfect expression of mutual friendship, are only possible by means of a common end. What is it that we share? Yes, we share a home, and a bank account, and sometimes we swap our cars out of an annoying necessity. That isn’t enough.

I lie next to you every night, not out of some obligation, but because our bodies are meant to be one. I speak to you when I am sad, not because you raise my spirits, but because our souls are meant to be one.

If I am crooked, I cease to be there for you. I you are crooked, you cease to be there for me. Then there is a big empty space.

If we are both crooked, that empty space becomes a vast chasm.

If we attend to our virtues, to living with understanding and compassion, there will be no divide. Hobbies, and pastimes, and social engagements do not make a marriage. The feelings of joy can only proceed form a commitment to absolute self-giving.

Written in 12/1999

Vanitas 18

Cornelius Norbertus Gysbrechts, Vanitas Still Life, with a Bouquet of Flowers, a Skull, A Globe, a Violin, and Documents (c. 1662)

Musonius Rufus, Lectures 13.4

Therefore, those who contemplate marriage ought to have regard neither for family, whether either one is of highborn parents, nor for wealth, whether on either side there are great possessions, nor for physical traits, whether one or the other has beauty.

For neither wealth nor beauty nor high birth is effective in promoting partnership of interest or sympathy, nor again are they significant for producing children.

But as for the body it is enough for marriage that it be healthy, of normal appearance, and capable of hard work, such as would be less exposed to the snares of tempters, better adapted to perform physical labor, and not wanting in strength to beget or to bear children.

If Musonius is right to think of marriage as such a profound commitment, I can’t help but wonder why so many people will still enter into it so lightly. It seems odd when the fashion of the age is all about sexual liberation, and yet the best and brightest still tie the knot, even after they have been playing the field for years and years.

Is it just a blind habit? Is it the appeal of the pomp and circumstance? Is there some assumption that a participation in the whole ritual means that we are finally seen to be taking our lives seriously?

I can only speculate that we feel the need to do the right thing, for all of the wrong reasons. Some people marry because their families expect them to do so, and others marry because it will help them improve their social status, and yet others marry for the sake of money. If the prospect of children is in the picture, which has recently become rarer, it will often only be in the service of these ends.

And yes, some will say they have married for doe-eyed love, while it pains me to see that they have really married for sexual passion. These are usually, and quite sadly, the first to go. The beauty they see is skin deep, and when the bodies grow older, or too familiar, or become tattered and torn, they can’t help but look elsewhere.

If I view my life through the eyes of Nature, as the Stoic tries to do, I will consider marriage as I should consider everything else in life. Will my love for her help her to become a wiser and more decent woman? Will she, in turn, help me to become a more virtuous man? Are we assisting one another in becoming more fully human, or are we using one another as tools for our greed and lust?

A standing family joke has it that I had two early chances at finding a “wife”, and I terribly botched both of them. In both cases, they were from big money, and their connections would have made it very easy for me to make my way up the social ladder. They also both happened to be what most people considered “knockouts”, each in her own way. Whenever I took them out in public, I was an object of envy, a gawky and goofy fellow with a sexy woman on his arm.

What did I want from them? I must hang my head in shame, because I was enamored of the appearance. What could they possibly have wanted from me? I have no idea, but back then I had a knack for coming across as an artistic intellectual.

When, many years later, I did find my better half, she wasn’t rich, and she offered me no opportunities for any professional advancement. I thought her the prettiest girl I had ever met, but she didn’t show off her legs or ask other men to gawk at her cleavage.

She was kind, she was caring, and she stuck with me. She was tough, she was stubborn, and she didn’t put up with my crap. I learned to trust her, without condition, because she had the most beautiful soul I had ever come across.

She decided, for some reason, that I was worth her while. For all of the disagreements we may have, and for all of the obstacles that come our way, there is no question in my mind that I will stand with her to the end.

Social status didn’t do that. Money didn’t do that. Not even sex did that. Love did that, to which all those other things are meant to be subordinate.

Written in 12/1999

Wisdom from the Bhagavad Gita 18

8-9. The knower of Truth, being centered in the Self should think, "I do nothing at all"—though seeing, hearing, touching, smelling, eating, going, sleeping, breathing, speaking, letting go, holding, opening and closing the eyes—convinced that it is the senses that move among sense-objects. 

10. He who does actions forsaking attachment, resigning them to Brahman, is not soiled by evil, like unto a lotus-leaf by water. 

11. Devotees in the path of work perform action, only with body, mind, senses, and intellect, forsaking attachment, for the purification of the heart. 

12. The well-poised, forsaking the fruit of action, attains peace, born of steadfastness; the unbalanced one, led by desire, is bound by being attached to the fruit of action. 

13. The subduer of the senses, having renounced all actions by discrimination, rests happily in the city of the nine gates, neither acting, nor causing others to act. 

14. Neither agency, nor actions does the Lord create for the world, nor does He bring about the union with the fruit of action. It is universal ignorance that does it all. 

15. The Omnipresent takes note of the merit or demerit of none. Knowledge is enveloped in ignorance, hence do beings get deluded. 

16. But whose ignorance is destroyed by the knowledge of Self—that knowledge of theirs, like the sun, reveals the Supreme Brahman. 

17. Those who have their intellect absorbed in That, whose self is That, whose steadfastness is in That, whose consummation is That, their impurities cleansed by knowledge, they attain to Non-return, to Moksha (Liberation).

—Bhagavad Gita, 5:8-17

Musonius Rufus, Lectures 13.3

But where each looks only to his own interests and neglects the other, or, what is worse, when one is so minded and lives in the same house but fixes his attention elsewhere and is not willing to pull together with his yoke-mate nor to agree, then the union is doomed to disaster and though they live together, yet their common interests fare badly; eventually they separate entirely or they remain together and suffer what is worse than loneliness.

I find it very difficult to discuss marriage with others, since most of the people I know do not understand it as I do. They see an artificial social institution, which may or may not be of use to them, and I see a reflection of Nature, a necessary aspect of what it means to be human. I come across to them either as a religious kook or as a hopeless romantic.

The folks around me tend to follow what I can only call a sort of serial polygamy, where one is exclusive with a partner for a time, but then moves on to someone else when the pleasure or convenience have passed. The exclusivity seems to be less about a commitment, and more about a temporary possessiveness, much like that of children who insist on holding on to that one toy for the moment, until the next one catches the eye.

“I used to love you, but I don’t anymore. Move on, go find someone else!” I suppose it is only from my admittedly odd perspective that such a statement makes little sense. If love, by definition, is unconditional, then measuring another person by conditions means that there was never any real love present to begin with.

Where there is lust rather than love, the treating of another as a means instead of as an end, or a focus on how we can be served over how we can serve, then I’m afraid we can only have a caricature of marriage. For all of the outward appearances, there will still be an inner rot. Many such relationships, if they can even be called that, will fail, not because marriage has let us down, but because we have let one another down.

Sometimes people will sadly drift apart from one another because they neglect what is common, but it is just as tragic when people go through the motions of staying together as they continue to neglect what is common.

I was often quite impressed, even intimidated, by some of the couples I knew, and I wondered how they managed to come across as being so deeply happy. In many cases, however, I got to know them better, and I saw a bit more of their interior lives, and I realized that those who bragged the most were only good at going through the motions.

They nourished an image, and they did not nourish one another. When they thought no one else was looking, they fought like wild beasts, or played spiteful games of manipulation, or, worst of all, had absolutely nothing to say to one another.

I have often felt terribly alone, but I can only imagine the horror of still feeling alone in the presence of someone I have been given every opportunity to love. Finding a mate is hard enough, and maintaining that bond is harder still, and all that toil and effort will only be worthwhile when I recognize the greatness of the reward that comes from absolute sharing.

Written in 12/1999

Surprised?

Daniel Hopfer, Woman and Attendant Surprised by Death (c. 1510)

Wisdom from the Early Stoics, Zeno of Citium 18

Again, in the Republic, making an invidious contrast, he declares the good alone to be true citizens, or friends, or kindred, or free men; and accordingly in the view of the Stoics parents and children are enemies, not being wise. 

Again, it is objected, in the Republic he lays down community of wives, and at line 200 prohibits the building of temples, law courts and gymnasia in cities; while as regards a currency he writes that we should not think it need be introduced either for purposes of exchange or for traveling abroad. 

Further, he bids men and women wear the same dress and keep no part of the body entirely covered. 

—Diogenes Laërtius, 7.33

Musonius Rufus, Lectures 13.2

The birth of a human being that results from such a union is to be sure something marvelous, but it is not yet enough for the relation of husband and wife, inasmuch as quite apart from marriage it could result from any other sexual union, just as in the case of animals.

But in marriage there must be above all else perfect companionship and mutual love of husband and wife, both in health and in sickness and under all conditions, since it was with desire for this as well as for having children that both entered upon marriage.

Where, then, this love for each other is perfect and the two share it completely, each striving to outdo the other in devotion, the marriage is ideal and worthy of envy, for such a union is beautiful.

I wasted much of my life by following people who believed that sex had one purpose, and one purpose only: the satisfaction of desire.

I then later wasted even more of my life by following people who believed that sex had one purpose, and one purpose only: to produce more soldiers for God.

They were both partly right, but they both ended up being completely wrong. They saw certain bits and pieces, and yet they somehow neglected the whole.

Is sex pleasurable? Of course, sometimes in the deepest way, but all sorts of other things are fun as well.

Does sex make babies? Yes, indeed it does, but that alone hardly makes it worth my while.

They both missed the critical and secret ingredient: some of us call it “love”.

Love is not just an emotion, or something that somehow happens to me. Yes, I will feel deeply when I love, but love is not a feeling. Love is a choice, an act of the will, a deliberate sharing of my own good with the good of another.

Yes, I know, I have already lost most of you.

“I love you, baby.”

Indeed, we’ve all heard that. It does not necessarily mean that you are respected, but only that you are wanted, and when the wanting stops, then the attention stops as well. It’s all about the conditions, and that isn’t love.

“Let’s make a baby together.”

Why? Will it make you feel more important? Will it give you power? How many people, men or women alike, who use such a phrase will be there not only to change a diaper, but also to walk that young soul through life, every step of the way, over many years, without question, with absolute love?

Darn it, there’s that annoying love thing again!

The yuppies pay other people to raise their kids, and the libertines just abandon them. I’m not sure which is worse.

Nature could have found a far more efficient way to bear and raise children. A human patch, much like a cabbage patch, would have done nicely.

And yet Nature was not interested only in efficiency, and She joined our procreation together with our virtues. Nature made us to love and to understand, and She makes certain that we be given the chance to do so. Only a wise and caring woman will be a good mother. Only a wise and caring man will be a good father.

Modern conveniences now mean that we can buy babies on our own terms. Soon, modern science will mean that we can make them in a jar on our own terms. That we can do such things does not means that we should do such things.

And what will we lose? You guessed it: the love, that elusive concept that the politician, or salesman, or lawyer, or banker cannot comprehend.

How does it help me win? Where is the profit for me? Can I sell it for this or that price? Will I earn interest from the child?

Your reward will the greatest one you could ever imagine. You gave yourself absolutely to another, and now you are blessed by giving yourself absolutely to yet another.

“Wait, I don’t get it. How does that make me win? It just costs me more!”

It all depends on your measure of gains and losses. Some people recognize that the winning is in the giving, not in the receiving.

Love is the law. I love her, even when she snores, or even when she annoys me, or even when she overdraws the bank account, or even when she tells me that I am the worst of all possible men.

Love is the law. I love my children, even when they wet the bed, or even when they lie, or even when they steal, or even when they tell me that they hate me.

My wife is hardly a saint, and I am probably the worst sinner I know. Still, we love one another. This is only possible when we share every aspect of our lives, without exception. We are not even just there for one another: we are one another, with all the good and the bad mixed together, for better or for worse. That’s the annoying thing we call love. 

Written in 4/2012

Sayings of Ramakrishna 31

God is the Absolute and Eternal Brahman, as well as the Father of the Universe. 

The indivisible Brahman is like a vast shoreless ocean, without bounds and limits, in which I can only struggle and sink. 

But when I approach the always active personal Deity, I get peace, like the sinking man who nears the shore.

Musonius Rufus, Lectures 13.1

Lecture 13: What is the chief end of marriage?

That the primary end of marriage is community of life with a view to the procreation of children: The husband and wife, he used to say, should come together for the purpose of making a life in common and of procreating children, and furthermore of regarding all things in common between them, and nothing peculiar or private to one or the other, not even their own bodies.

Part two in an uncomfortable series on Musonius, on the bits that no self-respecting post-modernist will touch with a ten-foot pole.

As a young fellow, I was deeply confused about what it meant to be married, since I ran into so many different approaches and attitudes. My own generation was at a sort of a threshold, where we somehow thought that the stale old ways were giving ways to vibrant new ones. Beaver Cleaver was slowly on his way out, and Roseanne Conner was just around the corner.

Were those the only options I had available to me? Was that all there was, a choice between a nuclear family and a nuclear fallout?

For many people, marriage was just a social institution, something that self-respecting people were eventually expected to do. If you aspired to the upper middle class, you went to school and jumped through all the hoops. Then you got a nice job, and you made some money. Then you somehow arranged a classy wedding with someone else just like you, and you posed for pictures with big smiles. Then you had a carefully planned child or two, and you continued posing for smiling pictures with them while you were on vacation. Then you retired in comfort, and posed in more smiling pictures with your grandchildren on the holidays. Then you died, and everyone said how happy you had been for the whole time.

I know, that sounds like a rather nasty way to put it, doesn’t it? But it doesn’t make it any less true, or any less sad. How empty and tiresome!

There were other people who disparaged marriage constantly and they told me how it was a complete waste of my time. In the refined and progressive circles I eventually found myself in, divorce was a badge of pride. It almost seemed like the inability to make love work was a sign that you were going somewhere. The power to “move on” from another person, someone you had once promised to care for until you were parted by death, made it clear that your priorities were firmly centered on your own gratification. Was there a fundamental disagreement? Remove the offender, and go find someone new. Was there a serious hardship? Make it easier by throwing out the bathwater, and the babies along with it.

Does it seem nasty for me to say it? Not nearly as nasty as if I chose to do it. How selfish and vain!

I could not come to terms with either model, since neither embraced unconditional love. The one told me that my attachments were a soulless obligation, and the other told me that my commitments were a throw of the dice. Is it any wonder, a few decades later, that fewer and fewer people want to marry anymore?

I took my own terrible missteps, of course, in trying to find love. It felt bad enough to be thought of as a dull, awkward, and unattractive fellow, and it felt far worse when I latched onto the first person who paid me any attention at all. My romantic illusions had nothing to do with love either; it was hardly my place to throw stones at the yuppies and the libertines.

After I had rather dramatically abandoned my search for any deeper companionship, it somehow came to me while I wasn’t looking. There were struggles, and there were fights, and there were times when everything seemed wasted, and yet there was always something that remained constant. That “something” involved two parts, exactly the ones my own family had vainly tried to teach me, and exactly the ones Musonius praises as the joined ends of marriage.

The passage above can sound trite if you just mouth the words, and yet they are deeply moving if you attend to their meaning. Nature does nothing in vain. There are all sorts of friendships, but nothing can be as complete as the bond between a man and a woman, as each was made for the other, in all possible ways.

I give some things to some people, and that is good, but I give everything to my wife, and that is better. “Community of life”, where nothing is private, is not just a phrase.

And it is no accident of Nature that a total sharing of life is necessarily ordered to a stewardship over new life.

During that frustrating time when I was in college, and through almost all of what I call my later Wilderness Years, one of the most popular sitcoms on television was Married. . . With Children. It could be rather funny, and yet it was also quite cynical and depressing. I do wonder if a whole generation was inadvertently turned off from the very idea of family by some of the entertainment we consumed.

I recall sitting around in someone’s dorm room one night, and most everyone was busy getting drunk. My girlfriend was also busy, flirting with the new handsome, and rich, transfer student. That show came on the television, and I actually listened to the lyrics to theme song for the first time:

Love and marriage, love and marriage

They go together like a horse and carriage

This I tell you, brother

You can't have one without the other

I know the show was making fun of it all, and maybe Frank Sinatra was originally making fun of it all as well, but I suddenly felt ashamed that any of us thought it was worth making fun of to begin with.

Whenever anyone “dated” anyone else in college, the first question was always if you had “done it” yet. The second question was always if you had worn a condom. Sex without love, and sex without children, without a glimmer of commitment to be found anywhere.

How much more unnatural could you possibly get?

Written in 12/1999

Sayings of Socrates 40

Unlike most philosophers, he had no need to travel, except when required to go on an expedition. The rest of his life he stayed at home and engaged all the more keenly in argument with anyone who would converse with him, his aim being not to alter his opinion but to get at the truth. 

They relate that Euripides gave him the treatise of Heraclitus and asked his opinion upon it, and that his reply was, "The part I understand is excellent, and so too is, I dare say, the part I do not understand; but it needs a Delian diver to get to the bottom of it."

—Diogenes Laërtius, Lives of the Eminent Philosophers 2.22 

Boethius, The Consolation of Philosophy 4.43

“The avenging son of Atreus strove for full ten years

before he expiated in the fall of Phrygian Troy

the wrong done to his brother's marriage.

The same Agamemnon must needs throw off his father's nature,

and himself, an unwilling priest,

thrust his knife into his unhappy daughter's throat,

and buy the winds at the cost of blood,

when he sought to fill the sails of the fleet of Greece.

“The King of Ithaca wept sore for his lost comrades

whom the savage Polyphemus swallowed into his huge maw

as he lay in his vast cave; but, when mad for his blinded eye,

he paid back with rejoicings for the sad tears he had drawn.

“Hercules became famous through hard labors.

He tamed the haughty Centaurs,

and from the fierce lion of Nemea took his spoil.

With his sure arrows he smote the birds of Stymphalus;

and from the watchful dragon took the apples of the Hesperides,

filling his hand with their precious gold;

and Cerberus he dragged along with threefold chain.

The story tells how he conquered the fierce Diomede

and set before his savage mares their master as their food.

The Hydra's poison perished in his fire.

He took the horn and so disgraced the brow of the river Achelous,

who hid below his bank his head ashamed.

On the sands of Libya he laid Antæus low;

Cacus he slew to sate Evander's wrath.

The bristling boar of Erymanthus

flecked with his own foam the shoulders

which were to bear the height of heaven;

for in his last labor he bore with unbending neck the heavens,

and so won again his place in heaven,

the reward of his last work.

“Go forth then bravely

whither leads the lofty path of high example.

Why do you sluggards turn your backs?

When the earth is overcome, the stars are yours.”

—from Book 4, Poem 7

This a lengthier poem, yet, as with many of the others, it seems a shame to break it into smaller pieces.

I find great comfort in poring over myths and legends, and particularly those of the Greeks and Romans. The have a wonderful way of moving beyond the particulars of time or place, of this or that culture, and touch upon such profound aspects of a universal human condition.

They may be grand in their scale, or fantastical in their context, but by coming to know the characters and their struggles, I also come to know a bit more about myself. By seeing where their choices take them, I also come to understand a bit more about how the Universe unfolds.

Though I have been a teacher for many years, or perhaps because I have been a teacher, I have come to accept that people are often quite unwilling to listen to others, and so I now keep most of my musings to myself.

I suppose there is something quite Boethian about that, since it helps me to remember that my first responsibility is to improve my own attitude above all else.

So if I wrote down everything I have to say about the three tales mentioned here, I would probably fill a whole book on its own. I will limit myself to just a few observations on how they relate to what Boethius has learned.

Agamemnon, Odysseus, and Hercules were all gifted with great strength, skill, and insight, and so I may forget that they were just trying to find their way in the world, like all the rest of us.

They faced obstacles and they made their choices. Sometimes their actions brought them worldly spoils, and sometimes their actions brought them even more terrible suffering. There were always egregious blunders mixed in with the triumphs.

What made them heroic, despite all of their many flaws, was their courage, not just physical but also moral. They did not lie down when confronted with hardships, but rather stood against them, knowing that the dignity of their lives depended upon the merit of inner character.

Was Agamemnon right to fight against the Trojans as he did? Was he right to sacrifice his own daughter so he could make it home after the war? Those are, I would suggest, precisely the sort of questions we have to ask when reading a good story.

He firmly followed the path he thought was best, however, and surely he came to understand how his fate was ultimately tied up with those choices.

When I first read about Odysseus, I was struck by the fact that he was not always the best of men, and that his cleverness could do him as much harm as it did him good.

Yet even though he could have surrendered and given up his quest at any time, he saw it through, all the way to the end.

When we think of Hercules, the Twelve Labors will come to mind, and we sometimes overlook why he had to complete those tasks to begin with. When Hera had driven him mad, he proceeded to murder his own family, and in his grief he visited the Oracle at Delphi to seek some form of absolution.

He was told that he would have to serve Eurystheus for ten years, and all of Hercules’ achievements arose from his willingness to do so.

Sometimes good men will do evil things, and sometimes evil men will do good things. As Solzhenitsyn said, we must learn that the line between good and evil runs through every human heart.

Heroism is found when we recognize that any and all misfortunes serve the purpose of helping us live well. If we have done poorly, suffering is a punishment to correct us, and if we have done well, suffering is then an opportunity to become even better.

The greatness will not be in the conquest of others, but in finally coming to conquer ourselves. 

Written in 12/2015

IMAGE: The Labors of Hercules