“This
is the fortune of those who are either firmly set in virtue and struggling
against their difficulties, or of those who would leave their vices and take
the path of virtue?”
“That
is true,” I said.
“But
what of that pleasant fortune which is granted as a reward to good men? Do most
people perceive that it is bad? No; but, as is true, they esteem it the best.
And what of the last kind of fortune, which is hard and which restrains bad men
by just punishment? Is that commonly held to be good?”
“No,”
said I, “it is held to be the most miserable of all that can be imagined.”
“Beware
lest in following the common conception, we come to some truly inconceivable
conclusion.”
“What
do you mean?”
“From
what we have allowed,” she said, “it results that the fortune of those who are
in possession of virtue, or are gaining it, or advancing therein, is entirely
good, whatever it be, while for those who remain in wickedness, their fortune
is the worst.”
“That
is true, but who would dare confess it?”
—from
Book 4, Prose 7
I find
myself vigorously resisting the temptation to look down at popular opinion,
since I know how unbearable a snob can be, and how small-minded I can so easily
become when I think I have been afforded some special privilege of insight.
Yet let
me not swing to the opposite extreme, to blindly accept as being true only what
the many propose as being true. Perhaps I should not be thinking that it is necessarily
wrong because it is popular, but rather recognize that it all too easily becomes
popular because it doesn’t get it entirely right.
Shallow
and simplistic values will quickly take hold when we appeal to a lowest common
denominator, when we look for the easiest possible solutions. This tendency is
only compounded when we see others taking the most convenient or gratifying
path, and our passions incite us to choose the security of a well-travelled road.
Put
another way, how often have I heard an inspired crowd marching down the street,
chanting about how they insist that we all join together in doing what requires
the most precise thought, the greatest discernment, the deepest care? “Let’s
act in such a way that we don’t jump to hasty conclusions! Who’s with me?”
I don’t
think it vain to say there is a perfectly good reason that this is not a common
sight.
When I
consider all of my own worst judgments, they are inevitably the result of
wanting what is most pleasurable, and of seeking what requires the least sacrifice
on my own part. I wish for the most fun, with the least amount of effort.
Yes, I then
become the passive man, expecting to receive a feeling of satisfaction, and to
do as little as is required of me. I believe that justice depends upon the
depth of my gluttony, and upon my sincere commitment to sloth.
This is
then the root of my complaints against Fortune. “I lusted for that! Why didn’t
I get it? It didn’t fit my longings! Who can I blame?”
It only
seems so terribly unfair when I fail to take a responsibility for my own
character, and, by extension, for my own happiness.
If I
begin with the premise that pleasure is the highest good, then I have
completely surrendered a mastery of my own life. It will come and go as other
things and other people come and go, and so I will constantly be in distress.
If I
begin with the premise that utility is the highest good, then I have also made
myself subject to what may happen to me, not a ruler of what I am able to do. What
is convenient for other will not always be convenient for me, and so I will
always be in state of war.
Many
situations in life are going to hurt, and sometimes they will hurt intensely.
Many situations in life will not be the easiest to manage, and sometimes they
will feel insurmountable.
Fortune
only seems to hurt me when I let her do my business for me. I will only think
it “good” if it gives me more “stuff”, or “bad” if it takes away more “stuff”,
because I am reliant upon all that “stuff” to begin with.
Let me
learn to be reliant upon myself, and upon my own free agreement with all of
Nature, and then the “stuff” takes on a completely different purpose. All of
it, however pleasant or unpleasant, convenient or inconvenient, ends up being
of service.
It leads
to peace of mind, and that brings a joy no “stuff” can ever replace.
Can I
use it to be a better man? Then it is always good. No harm will befall me.
Do I
still insist on my own immediate gratification? Then it is always bad. My own
choices will bring me down.
Is that
a popular point of view? Hardly. Is it the right point of view? Certainly.
Written in 12/2015
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