Vanitas 23

Thomas Satterwhite Noble, Skull Wearing a Wreath of Flowers (c.1874)

Dhammapada 86

But those who, when the law has been well preached to them, follow the law, will pass across the dominion of death, however difficult to overcome. 

IMAGE: Tibetan Bhavacakra, The Wheel of Life

Seneca, On Peace of Mind 17.1

Chapter 17

It also proves a fertile source of troubles if you take pains to conceal your feelings and never show yourself to anyone undisguised, but, as many men do, live an artificial life, in order to impose upon others.

For the constant watching of himself becomes a torment to a man, and he dreads being caught doing something at variance with his usual habits, and, indeed, we never can be at our ease if we imagine that everyone who looks at us is weighing our real value.

For many things occur which strip people of their disguise, however reluctantly they may part with it, and even if all this trouble about oneself is successful, still life is neither happy nor safe when one always has to wear a mask.

It will require deliberate commitment, and it may take some time, but I learn that my happiness cannot be won at the price of constant conflict and anxiety. Peace of mind is found in balance rather than in extremes, working with things instead of against them, and a simple mastery over self in contrast to attempting an entangled mastery over others.

Nor is any of it possible without sincerity, without honestly and humbly being one and the same person through and through. There can be no trickery and no deception, no disguising a coldness and frustration on the inside with a show of alluring impressions on the outside. So many of my troubles come from thinking that life must be like playing some sort of clever game.

I have seen far more wickedness than I would like, sometimes far more than I thought I could bear, and I can’t help but notice how so much of it is tied together with a priority of appearances. The concern is not with being good but with seeming good, not with earning merit but with winning praise. There is a discord between the inner self and the outer impression, and it should then come as no surprise that we can’t be fair and honest with others when we can’t first be fair and honest with ourselves.

I might at first think that such people are winning, yet I only need to look more closely to see how much they are losing. They say that one of the problems with being a liar is that it’s so hard to keep your story straight, to keep tabs on all the different distortions you have cast about. If life requires constructing and maintaining an elaborate artifice, the greatest fear will be that it will suddenly all fall down. There can be no peace of mind in the middle of that kind of unease.

I recall one painful conversation with an academic administrator, where he lectured me at length on how maintaining the “branding” of the university often required overlooking the particular needs of individual faculty or students. “We won’t make any money by being the nice guys. Like with any product, it’s all in the spin.”

I couldn’t resist a mischievous joke. “So if I sent copies of our chat, which I have just recorded, to donors and parents, would that help or hinder the promotion of our brand?”

I had done nothing of the sort, of course, but the look of complete horror on his face for a moment was priceless. They say that our lives flash before our eyes before we die, and I can only imagine how his entire professional career, so full of false advertising and broken promises, now flashed before his. What would become of him if all the lies were exposed?

How much simpler it would be to simply be. How much purer it would be to build character instead of reputation, where the former is completely my own and the latter is always reliant on the whims of others.

Fakery is no substitute for integrity, and merely mouthing certain words doesn’t change the reality.

Written in 1/2012

Ellis Walker, Epictetus in Poetical Paraphrase 3

III. 

If then thou shouldst suppose those thing are free,
Whose nature is condemn'd to slavery;
Shouldst thou suppose, what is not thine, thy own,
'Twill cost thee many a sigh, and many a groan;
Many a disappointment wilt thou find
Abortive hopes, and a distracted mind,
And oft accuse, nay, curse, both gods and men,
And lay thy own rash foolish fault on them.
But if, what's truly thine, thou truly know,
Not judging that thine own, that is not so,
None shall compell thee, none an hindrance be,
No sorrow shalt thou know, no enemy;
None shall thy body hurt, or name abuse,
Noe shalt thou blame in anger, none accuse,
Nor shalt thou poorly be oblig'd to do,
What thy great soul doth not consent unto.

Epictetus, Golden Sayings 128

What, did Diogenes love no man, he that was so gentle, so true a friend to men as cheerfully to endure such bodily hardships for the common weal of all mankind? 

But how loved he them? As behoved a minister of the Supreme God, alike caring for men and subject unto God. 

IMAGE: Maurice Quentin de la Tour, Diogenes (18th century)

Musonius Rufus, Lectures 16.9

“But, you say, your father will restrain you and actually shut you up to prevent your study of philosophy. Perhaps he will do so, but he will not prevent you from studying philosophy unless you are willing; for we do not study philosophy with our hands or feet or any other part of the body, but with the soul and with a very small part of it, that which we may call the reason.

“This God placed in the strongest place so that it might be inaccessible to sight and touch, free from all compulsion and in its own power. Particularly if your mind is good your father will not be able to prevent you from using it nor from thinking what you ought nor from liking the good and not liking the base; nor again-from choosing the one and rejecting the other.

“In the very act of doing this, you would be studying philosophy, and you would not need to wrap yourself up in a worn cloak nor go without a chiton nor grow long hair nor deviate from the ordinary practices of the average man. To be sure, such things are well enough for professional philosophers, but philosophy does not consist in them, but rather in thinking out what is man's duty and meditating upon it.”

If I define the value of my life by the property I own, or by my social standing, or by the freedom of my body, then I will understandably be concerned when someone in authority, making use of some external force, tries to hinder such things. It would be what post-moderns might like to call an “existential threat”.

If, however, I am informed by a Stoic model of meaning, one that looks to the merit inside me instead of the circumstances that surround me, I will not be quite so troubled.

It isn’t that my inner Stoic is unfeeling, or in denial, or separated from the world; it is rather that I can put all experiences, whether pleasant or unpleasant, within a deeper context. I try to find peace in orienting wherever I find myself to the building of my ability to know and to love.

There is certainly nothing mindless or heartless in that!

Might I have a preference for luxury, or fame, or freedom of movement? Perhaps, and if I am still tied to old habits, most certainly. Yet I can turn to the truth in my judgments, that who I am is not measured by what I have, or whether others look my way, or where I may go.

Musonius, like any good Stoic, insists that being a philosopher is nothing more or less than living according to wisdom and virtue, and living according to wisdom and virtue are, in turn, the very ends of human life. To “choose” philosophy is not like choosing an outfit, or a house, or a career, but is a decision about what it means to be human. Now there is the true existential content of life!

Can anyone or anything else stop me from following this path? I am the only obstacle, and any other hardship is transformed into an opportunity to become better in my soul. My own thoughts and choices are what will make all the difference; even when I face the end of my life, which I inevitably must, I will still face it with my own thoughts and choices.

Can my father block my way by cutting off my inheritance, or ruining my reputation, or even locking me up? The beautiful irony is that if he tried to do so, he would only be a giving me another chance to respect him all the more, by practicing virtues like courage, and temperance, and kindness.

I suppose it is no accident that many of the heroes who inspire me, like Socrates, or Boethius, or Thomas More, or Franz Jägerstätter, or James Stockdale, found their characters tested by the loss of worldly freedoms. They became philosophers not in spite of these challenges, but because of them.

Written in 3/2000

IMAGE: J.F. Clemens, Socrates in Prison (c. 1786). In the background are Socrates' two daimons, the good silencing the bad. 

Ellis Walker, Epictetus in Poetical Paraphrase 2

II.  

Those actions which are purely ours are free
By nature such, as cannot hinder'd be,
Above the stroke of chance or destiny.
But those, o'er which our pow'r does bear no sway
Are poor, another's, servile, and obey
The hind'rance of each rub, that stops the way.

Aesop's Fables 28

The Dog and the Wolf

A gaunt Wolf was almost dead with hunger when he happened to meet a House-dog who was passing by. 

"Ah, Cousin," said the Dog, "I knew how it would be; your irregular life will soon be the ruin of you. Why do you not work steadily as I do, and get your food regularly given to you?"

"I would have no objection," said the Wolf, "if I could only get a place."

"I will easily arrange that for you," said the Dog; "come with me to my master and you shall share my work."

So the Wolf and the Dog went towards the town together. On the way there the Wolf noticed that the hair on a certain part of the Dog's neck was very much worn away, so he asked him how that had come about.

"Oh, it is nothing," said the Dog. "That is only the place where the collar is put on at night to keep me chained up; it chafes a bit, but one soon gets used to it."

"Is that all?" said the Wolf. "Then good-bye to you, Master Dog.

"Better starve free than be a fat slave."

Musonius Rufus, Lectures 16.8

“As a result he will willingly give up all pleasures for his father's sake, and for him he will accept all manner of hardships willingly. To have such a son who would not offer prayers to the gods? Who, having one, would not love him because of whom he had become an envied and most blessed father in the eyes of all men of sound judgment?

“If, then, my young friend, with a view to becoming such a man, as you surely will if you truly master the lessons of philosophy, you should not be able to induce your father to permit you to do as you wish, nor succeed in persuading him, reason thus: your father forbids you to study philosophy, but the common father of all men and gods, Zeus, bids you and exhorts you to do so.

“His command and law is that man be just and honest, beneficent, temperate, high-minded, superior to pain, superior to pleasure, free of all envy and all malice; to put it briefly, the law of Zeus bids man be good. But being good is the same as being a philosopher.

“If you obey your father, you will follow the will of a man; if you choose the philosopher's life, the will of God. It is plain, therefore, that your duty lies in the pursuit of philosophy rather than not.”

If the son is committed to philosophy, and not just to some form of academic posturing, he will already have a sense that what is right does not merely proceed from the exercise of force. The son will surely hold his father in esteem, appreciating their natural bond, even if he will not necessarily conform to his commands without careful and humble consideration.

If the son does truly love wisdom, this will be evident in his own words and deeds, and his inner character will shine forth. Wouldn’t a decent and loving father be proud of such an achievement? I would like to think that nothing gives a parent greater satisfaction than a child forming a conscience, though I have seen such noble standards ignored far too often.

There will be times when parents give their children all the worst guidance, encouraging them to acquire wealth by stepping on others, or increase their influence at any cost. This does not have to mean that the parents don’t love their children, or don’t have their best interests at heart, but it does sadly mean that they are confused about the priorities of life.

Yet even if the father tells the son to cast aside other people, the son will not do that, and he will start close to home, by not casting aside his own father. The respect remains, as the son still looks to a greater authority that joins them both together.

When anyone at all tells me that being a good man is subservient to some other goals, I can accept that he means well, though he does not understand well. My own human nature already defines me as a creature made for virtue, and in this I am also in service to the whole of Nature. It is ultimately Providence, the source of all purpose and order in things, that is the greatest master.

I was raised to call this God, and Musonius here calls it Zeus, and you may name it in some other way, but the root principle always remains one and the same. It gives us a shared meaning, such that any apparent conflict, between fathers and sons, or between any people at all, arises only from the fog of ignorance and the narrowness of pride.

Young people can, of course, be terribly stubborn. There were many times I did not prefer what my own parents asked me to do, and yet I can honestly say that I don’t think they once, even once, asked me to do something wrong. This was a distinction I had to learn, and it was only experience and reflection that made me aware of that blessing.

In a moment of adolescent rebellion, I once begged a kindly old priest to tell me how to get my nagging father off of my back.

“Well, there’s your father, and then there’s your Father. You never have to pick and choose when it comes to loving one within the other.” 

Written in 3/2000

Ellis Walker, Epictetus in Poetical Paraphrase 1

A number of years ago, I stumbled across a folder stuffed with some fading and tattered photocopies, sloppily stapled together, and the only reason I didn't toss them out was that someone had written the name "Epictetus" in big magic marker letters on the first page.

I have no idea how I acquired that bundle, but it turned out to be something rather interesting. It was a collection of poems, written by a fellow named Ellis Walker, back in the late 17th century. I had unearthed nothing less than a wonderful summary of The Handbook by Epictetus, written in verse.

For a geek like me, it made my day.

I immediately looked up all I could about the author, but I found very little. I can only suspect the gentleman might have been a Jacobite, which is very much to my liking, and that perhaps his love of Stoicism came from dealing with his own plight. Maybe my romantic imagination, however, is just running away with me.

I did find this dedication from another edition:

To my Honoured Uncle
Mr. Samuel Walker of York.
 
When I fled to you for shelter, at the breaking out of the present troubles in Ireland, I took Epictetus for my companion; and found that both I, and my friend were welcome. You were then pleas'd to express an high esteem for the author, as he very well deserves it: you prais'd his notions as great, noble, and sublime, and much exceeding the pitch of other thinkers. You may remember, I then told you, that as they seem'd such to me, so I thought they would very well take a poetical dress: you said the attempt was bold, but withal wish'd it well done. I, hurry'd on with zeal for an author belov'd by you, and admired by all, have made the essay a grateful diversion to me, though perhaps I may have pleas'd you better in admiring the author, than in translating him. However having attempted it, to whom should I dedicate my endeavours but to you, whose goodness gave me so kind a reception, whose bounty relieved me in an undone condition, and afforded me the leisure and opportunity to shew my desire of pleasing you, if such a trifle as this can any way pretend to please. Epistles of this kind are for the most part tokens of gratitude; I know no one in the world, to whom I am so much oblig'd as I am to you, and I make it my request, that you will accept of this, as an hearty and thankful acknowledgement, from 

Your most humble Servant,
and affectionate nephew
Ellis Walker. 

One will occasionally run across old copies of the text in odd places, and sadly that's the end of it. I was fascinated.

This is hardly refined poetry or high art, but it has a pleasant and comforting style to it, rather folksy and sincere. I will find myself reading it again whenever I think fondly of England, and it goes well with a bottle of Newcastle ale and a record by Vaughan Williams.

—7/2009

These 78 poems have now been added into the Stoic Breviary rotation of posts. Perhaps someone will find them helpful.

* * * * * 

I.

Respecting man, things are divided thus:
Some do not, and some do belong to us.
Some within compass of our pow'r do fall,
And these are they, which we our own may call.
Such an allegiance all our deeds declare,
Such our endeavours, thoughts, aversions are,
Such our desires; but honour, greatness, wealth,
Our bodies, life, and life's chief comfort, health,
With all things else, with every other kind,
(That own not a dependence on the mind)
Which mortals, with concern, desire or fear,
Are such as are not in our pow'r or sphere. 

Thomas a Kempis, The Imitation of Christ 3.20

Of confession of our infirmity and of the miseries of this life

I will acknowledge my sin unto You; I will confess to You, Lord, my infirmity. It is often a small thing which casts me down and makes me sad. I resolve that I will act bravely, but when a little temptation comes, immediately I am in a great strait. Wonderfully small sometimes is the matter whence a grievous temptation comes, and while I imagine myself safe for a little space; when I am not considering, I find myself often almost overcome by a little puff of wind.

2. Behold, therefore, O Lord, my humility and my frailty, which is altogether known to You. Be merciful unto me, and draw me out of the mire that I sink not, lest I ever remain cast down. This is what frequently throws me backward and confounds me before You, that I am so liable to fall, so weak to resist my passions. And though their assault is not altogether according to my will, it is violent and grievous, and it altogether wearies me to live thus daily in conflict. Herein is my infirmity made known to me, that hateful fancies always rush in far more easily than they depart.

3. Oh that You, most mighty God of Israel, Lover of all faithful souls, would look upon the labor and sorrow of Your servant, and give him help in all things whereunto he strives. Strengthen me with heavenly fortitude, lest the old man, this miserable flesh, not being yet fully subdued to the spirit, prevail to rule over me; against which I ought to strive so long as I remain in this most miserable life. Oh what a life is this, where tribulations and miseries cease not, where all things are full of snares and of enemies, for when one tribulation or temptation goes, another comes, yea, while the former conflict is yet raging others come more in number and unexpected.

4. And how can the life of man be loved, seeing that it has so many bitter things, that it is subjected to so many calamities and miseries? How can it be even called life, when it produces so many deaths and plagues? The world is often reproached because it is deceitful and vain, yet notwithstanding it is not easily given up, because the lusts of the flesh have too much rule over it. Some draw us to love, some to hate. The lust of the flesh, the lust of the eyes, and the pride of life, these draw to love of the world; but the punishments and miseries which righteously follow these things, bring forth hatred of the world and weariness.

5. But, alas! an evil desire conquers a mind given to the world, and thinks it happiness to be under the nettles because it savors not nor perceives the sweetness of God nor the inward gracefulness of virtue. But they who perfectly despise the world and strive to live unto God in holy discipline, these are not ignorant of the divine sweetness promised to all who truly deny themselves and see clearly how grievously the world errs, and in how many ways it is deceived.

Musonius Rufus, Lectures 16.7

“Now if your father, knowing nothing about the subject, should forbid you who had learned and comprehended what philosophy is to study philosophy, would you be bound to heed him, or would you not rather be obligated to teach him better, since he is giving bad advice? That seems to me to be the answer.

“Perhaps by using reason alone one might persuade his father to adopt the attitude he ought in regard to philosophy if the father's disposition is not too obstinate. If, however, he should not be persuaded by argument and would not yield, yet even then the conduct of his son will win him over if his son is truly putting his philosophy into practice.

“For, as a student of philosophy he will certainly be most eager to treat his father with the greatest possible consideration and will be most well-behaved and gentle; in his relations with his father he will never be contentious or self-willed, nor hasty or prone to anger; furthermore he will control his tongue and his appetite whether for food or for sexual temptations, and he will stand fast in the face of danger and hardships; and finally with competence in recognizing the true good, he will not let the apparent good pass without examination.”

Now recall that the original question was what a son should do when a father particularly forbids him the study of philosophy. Yes, we can all have a good laugh about that, given how often parents are driven to despair by seeing their children following what most of the world regards as useless disciplines.

I will venture to say, at the risk of becoming even more unpopular, that such objections are the result of lopsided thinking.

By all means, find the best way to pay for your day-to-day worldly needs, what the Ancients called the servile arts. Mea culpa; I sadly neglected those for far too long.

But what is the ultimate purpose of life, the end toward which all other means are directed? It is happiness, and there can be no happiness without distinguishing the true from the false and the right from the wrong. This requires what the Ancients called the liberal arts, those suitable for a person who is free.

To study philosophy, as the careerist might describe it, is probably a complete waste of time. To study, and thereby to live, philosophy, as Musonius would have described it, is an absolute necessity.  

Does the father command the son to build up his power and prestige instead of first building up his character? The father is mistaken. The son can show his reverence by using reason to argue his point, but if the father still does not comprehend, the son can offer only the dignity of his own example.

Most professional philosophers I know have a tendency to be petty and mean-spirited folks. Let them be as they choose to be. Most genuine philosophers, however, those who put into practice what they ponder, will be understanding, respectful, and caring. They will strive to be wise, courageous, temperate, and just. There is the basis of a good life.

Please convince me if I am wrong, before I send my own son off on his journey.

Written in 3/2000

In Praise of Epictetus

"In Praise of Epictetus"

Ellis Walker (1650-1700)

I.
Great Epictetus, pardon if we praise!
'Tis not thy character to raise:
The top of all fame's pyramid is thine,
Where in her brightest glories thou dost shine;
Where, though unsought by thee,
She gives thee her eternity,
And bears you to the height you scorned to climb.
In speaking all that's good of you, she shows,
That now and then, how to speak truth she knows.
All admire what's truly good,
And that they do so, all would have it understood;
There's then a right, which to ourselves we do
In praising, reading, and translating you.

II.
Thousands have been esteemed for having writ,
And in time's chronicles do justly live,
With all the applause that lettered fame can give.
But you with brave disdain
Despite the common road to fame,
That old stale trick, as known as artifice,
As pimping for acquiring greatness is.
By a great method of your own,
You by not writing are more glorious grown;
For every word that from you fell,
Your hearers have received as from an oracle,
And handed down to us; for so 'twas fit
That your immortal wit,
Should ever live, without your seeking it.

III.
None (as mere men) but you, could ever reach
The pitch of living up to what they teach,
And could you have receded from
Your noble principles resolved upon,
What vast preferments might such parts have had?
What offers had not fortune made?
But blind and foolish though she be,
Full well she knew that she,
With all her outward gifts could nothing add to thee:
You generously brave
Ennoble the opprobrious name of slave;
And show, a wise man may be truly great
In each condition, every state.

IV.
Thine was intrinsic greatness, real worth,
No painted Ixion cloud, no glittering froth,
Not such as doth consist in store
Of houses or of land,
The prey, the sport of fire, or of the stronger hand;
Nor was it varnished over
With riches, which proud churles enslave,
Which knaves hoard up, for some more daring knave,
Nor such as glory in the bended knee
Of sycophant servility,
Which, when the humble wretch his ends doth gain,
He may grow saucy, and detain:
No; 'twas substantial greatness of the soul,
Such as no outward power can control,
Such as can nothing fear, can nothing want:
This we true greatness justly grant.

V.
Experience shows, how well you have confined
All happiness, all greatness, to the mind.
For he, that sees the captive led along,
Pensive, amidst the bellowing throng,
With folded arms, his grandeur laid aside;
And then another with mean flattery
Courting the rascal herd, the senseless mobile,
Stroking the beast that he intends to ride,
And all to gratify his boundless pride:
He, who in history runs over
The worthies that have lived before,
And sees great Diocletian quit his seat,
His princely palace for a cool retreat,
And sees the fierce Pelean youth bestride
The conquered globe, and weep dissatisfied;
He must of force confess,
Nothing without can give true happiness;
And all his heroes of antiquity
Slaves in an eminent degree;
And only Epictetus truly great and free.

Stoic Snippets 35

How much time he gains who does not look to see what his neighbor says or does or thinks, but only at what he does himself, to make it just and holy. 

—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 4.18

Boethius, The Consolation of Philosophy 5.9

“And, further, I cannot approve of an argument by which some men think that they can cut this knot; for they say that a result does not come to pass for the reason that Providence has foreseen it, but the opposite rather, namely, that because it is about to come to pass, therefore it cannot be hidden from God's Providence.

“In that way it seems to me that the argument must resolve itself into an argument on the other side. For in that case it is not necessary that that should happen which is foreseen, but that that which is about to happen should be foreseen; as though, indeed, our doubt was whether God's foreknowledge is the certain cause of future events, or the certainty of future events is the cause of Providence.

“But let our aim be to prove that, whatever be the shape which this series of causes takes, the fulfilment of God's foreknowledge is necessary, even if this knowledge may not seem to induce the necessity for the occurrence of future events. For instance, if a man sits down, it must be that the opinion, which conjectures that he is sitting, is true; but conversely, if the opinion concerning the man is true because he is sitting, he must be sitting down. There is therefore necessity in both cases: the man must be sitting, and the opinion must be true. But he does not sit because the opinion is true, but rather the opinion is true because his sitting down has preceded it.

“Thus, though the cause of the truth of the opinion proceeds from the other fact, yet there is a common necessity on both parts. In like manner we must reason of Providence and future events. For even though they are foreseen because they are about to happen, yet they do not happen because they are foreseen. None the less it is necessary that either what is about to happen should be foreseen of God, or that what has been foreseen should happen; and this alone is enough to destroy all free will.”

—from Book 5, Prose 3

I can’t help but admire how thorough Boethius’ entire objection is, such a far cry from the thoughtless determinism I see around me far too often. He doesn’t merely take things for granted, or avoid his own responsibility by passing it on to greater powers; he genuinely wishes to understand if human freedom can possibly exist in the presence of any kind of omniscience.

Now the problem may arise from assuming that we somehow have to act because God knows what we will do, when the reverse could also be true, that God knows what we will do because we decide to act. This could seemingly retain our free choice within God’s perfect awareness, by pointing out that the certitude of the latter proceeds from the liberty of the former.

But notice how we are still speaking in terms of what is certain, what has to be, and the fact that Providence is absolutely necessary, having within it no possibility of error or contingency, is really what is getting in the way.

In other words, it hardly matters if we bicker about whether the egg came before the chicken or the chicken came before the egg. The unavoidable fact seems to be that if God knows it, He knows it without a doubt.

I can talk all I want about how my own judgments were the cause behind it turning out the way it did, and that still doesn’t get around the final inevitability of it all. There is no other way it could ever turn out. It is written in stone, in whatever way I speak of it, and so it will come to pass, however much I may object or try to take it back.

Though the scale and degree are obviously rather different, it would be a bit like someone telling me he has written a brilliant computer program, one capable of calculating all the relevant variables, and thereby able to predict all of my actions.

I protest, of course, and insist that I’m the one in charge, that I am following my own way, however clever his technology and programming might be. Of all the nerve!

Yet when it’s properly put to the test, it turns out that the program manages to forecast every move I make, long before I come to a particular decision. It’s uncanny, seemingly to be known better than I know myself.

This imaginary computer is not God, of course, and its scope could never be omniscient, but it offers a similar challenge. Where is the freedom, if it has already been prophesied? This is the troubling problem of foreknowledge.

Written in 1/2016

Hans Holbein, The Dance of Death 18: The Judge

Musonius Rufus, Lectures 16.6

“And so you, my young friend, do not fear that you will disobey your father, if when your father bids you do something which is not right, you refrain from doing it, or when he forbids you to do something which is right you do not refrain from doing it.

“Do not let your father be an excuse to you for wrongdoing whether he bids you do something which is not right or forbids you to do what is right. For there is no necessity for you to comply with evil injunctions, and you yourself seem not unaware of this.

“You would certainly not submit to your father in musical matters if, with no knowledge of music, he should order you to play the lyre incorrectly, or if he knew nothing of grammar and you did, he should order you to write and read, not as you had learned but otherwise; and if, finally, with no knowledge of how to steer a ship, he should order you who did understand to handle the helm in the wrong way, you would not heed him. Well, then, enough of that.”

“I was just following orders!”

The phrase has sadly become quite hackneyed, and it has even taken on something of a comic quality, not unlike Bart Simpson’s “I didn’t do it!” Nevertheless, it should serve me as a powerful reminder that passing the buck is only a way to cover for my own ignorance and cowardice.

Because I am ruled by my own judgments, and by no one else’s, I am also responsible for my own actions. This includes choosing whose guidance I will trust, and whose directions I will follow. If I can be reasonably expected to comprehend for myself, I can also be reasonably expected to give my assent or dissent.

“I didn’t know any better!” is not in itself an excuse; the more important question is “Should I have known any better?” And yet to think how many times I have hidden behind what others told me, without doing any thinking for myself, or been quick to point the finger, when the weakness lay squarely within myself.

It is not necessary for me to despair over this, but it is necessary for me to improve from this. Mistakes will indeed be made, though they are only compounded when they are ignored.

I would trust the authority of a doctor to heal me, not that of a lawyer. I would listen to a mechanic when it comes to fixing my car, not some loud guy at the end of the bar. So why, then, should I take advice about being virtuous from a wicked man? Why am I tempted to imitate those who lie, cheat, and steal?

The adulterer can teach me nothing about loyalty, precisely because he lacks love. The profiteer can teach me nothing about business, precisely because he has no sense of justice. The social climber can teach me nothing about character, precisely because he cares only for himself.

And I, turn, do not have to be a rocket scientist to figure out who is who. Becoming a stand-up guy is only uncomfortable when I’ve gotten lazy from too much sitting down.

Written in 3/2000

Vanitas 22

Cornelis Norbertus Gijsbrechts, Vanitas with Skull (c. 1677)

The All-Pervading

George Frederick Watts, The All-Pervading (c. 1890)

Musonius Rufus, Lectures 16.5

“In my opinion the man who does what his father desires and follows his father's wishes is obeying his father; and he who does what he ought and pursues the better course is following the wish of his father.

“How is that? Because surely all parents have the interests of their children at heart, and because of that interest they wish them to do what is right and advantageous.

“Consequently, one who does what is right and useful is doing what his parents wish and so is obedient to his parents in doing it, even if his parents do not order him in so many words to do these things.

“This one thing only and nothing else should he take into consideration who wishes to obey his parents in each act—whether what he plans to do is good and advantageous. Thus if such a conviction be entertained, whatever a man's action may be, it is the act of one obedient to his parents.”

What should a parent want for his child? What should an owner want for his workers? What should a king want for his subjects?

In each case, the very nature of the position brings with it an authority, an authority with the purpose to give direction: the ruler exists for the sake of those who are ruled. He is not there merely for himself, but there for the benefit of others.

And what if the ruler, whose service should be one of stewardship and guidance, stumbles in his pursuit of the good? I can then continue to be obedient to him by fulfilling what he should have asked of me, even if he fell short. I can honor his position, as best as is within my power, by still clinging to our shared goal.

I can serve my king, even if he has failed to serve me.

Would any good father turn away from his own son, however much he had strayed from virtue? No, the father will always welcome him back with open arms, because he stays firm in his duty. The son may fuss and fight, insisting that he knows better, but the father is patient in his love. Though the son may not yet understand, the father still understands.

Conversely, would any good son turn away from his own father, however misguided his orders might be? No, the young man will always give his respect, and he shows that piety by living up to his side of the bargain. The father may bang his fists and threaten to disown him, but the son is patient in his convictions. Though the father may be misguided, the son is still obedient to the father’s mission.

I have long been deeply moved by Rembrandt’s The Return of the Prodigal Son, often brought close to tears by its profound expression of love. I can also imagine a story where the roles are reversed, where the dutiful son remains constant to the dignity and vocation of his errant father.

Written in 3/2000

IMAGE: Rembrandt, The Return of the Prodigal Son (c. 1669)

Wisdom from the Bhagavad Gita 21

10. The Yogi should constantly practice concentration of the heart, retiring into solitude, alone, with the mind and body subdued, and free from hope and possession. 

11. Having in a cleanly spot established his seat, firm, neither too high nor too low, made of a cloth, a skin, and Kusha-grass, arranged in consecution: 

12. There, seated on that seat, making the mind one-pointed and subduing the action of the imaging faculty and the senses, let him practice Yoga for the purification of the heart.

13. Let him firmly hold his body, head and neck erect and still, with the eye-balls fixed, as if gazing at the tip of his nose, and not looking around. 

14. With the heart serene and fearless, firm in the vow of a Brahmachâri, with the mind controlled, and ever thinking of Me, let him sit in Yoga having Me as his supreme goal. 

15. Thus always keeping the mind steadfast, the Yogi of subdued mind attains the peace residing in Me—the peace which culminates in Nirvâna, in Moksha (Release). 

16. Success in Yoga is not for him who eats too much or too little—nor, O Arjuna, for him who sleeps too much or too little. 

17. To him who is temperate in eating and recreation, in his effort for work, and in sleep and wakefulness, Yoga becomes the destroyer of misery. 

18. When the completely controlled mind rests serenely in the Self alone, free from longing after all desires, then is one called steadfast, in the Self. 

19. "As a lamp in a spot sheltered from the wind does not flicker"—even such has been the simile used for a Yogi of subdued mind, practicing concentration in the Self.

—Bhagavad Gita, 6:10-19

Wisdom from the Early Stoics, Zeno of Citium 21

The study of syllogisms they declare to be of the greatest service, as showing us what is capable of yielding demonstration; and this contributes much to the formation of correct judgements, and their arrangement and retention in memory give a scientific character to our conception of things.

An argument is in itself a whole containing premises and conclusion, and an inference (or syllogism) is an inferential argument composed of these. 

Demonstration is an argument inferring by means of what is better apprehended to something less clearly apprehended.

A presentation (or mental impression) is an imprint on the soul: the name having been appropriately borrowed from the imprint made by the seal upon the wax.  

There are two species of presentation, the one apprehending a real object, the other not. 

The former, which they take to be the test of reality, is defined as that which proceeds from a real object, agrees with that object itself, and has been imprinted seal-fashion and stamped upon the mind

The latter, or non-apprehending, that which does not proceed from any real object, or, if it does, fails to agree with the reality itself, not being clear or distinct.  

—Diogenes Laërtius, 7.45-46

Musonius Rufus, Lectures 16.4

“To be sure, disobedience and the disobedient person are terms of reproach and shame, but refusing to do what one ought not to do merits praise rather than blame. Therefore, whether one's father or the archon or even the tyrant orders something wrong or unjust or shameful, and one does not carry out the order, he is in no way disobeying, inasmuch as he does no wrong nor fails of doing right. He only disobeys who disregards and refuses to carry out good and honorable and useful orders. Such is the disobedient man.

“But the obedient person behaves in just the opposite way and is completely different from him; he would be the kind of man who listens to anyone who counsels what is fitting and follows it voluntarily. That is the obedient man.

“Thus in relation to his parents also, one is obedient when he does voluntarily whatever they counsel that is good and fitting. For my part, moreover, I should say that anyone who did what was right and expedient, even when his parents did not counsel it, was obeying his parents, and in support of my reasoning, consider this.”

My head will get dizzy, my thoughts terribly muddled, when I try to work out all the different levels and degrees of responsibilities I somehow assume I have. I see so many apparent tensions and conflicts, taking for granted that in order to do some good over here, I will then have to do some bad over there.

I get caught up in different sorts of utilitarian formulas, where some must suffer harm so that others can receive a benefit, where a vague idea of a greater good excuses the committing of lesser evils, where I comfort myself by saying that the ends justify the means.

None of this is necessary, if I only stick to the basic premise of Stoic ethics, that nothing is in itself good or bad for human nature except a life according to virtue or vice.

Since I share that very same human nature with all of my neighbors, what is good for all of us is good for one of us, and what is good for one of us is good for all of us.

Since human nature exists as a part of the whole of Nature, given meaning and purpose by Providence, everything that is good for a man is also a good for the Universe.

Only my own ignorance, where I separate one piece from the other, where I replace principle with preference, where I confuse what is truly virtuous with what is merely indifferent, will get in the way of clarity and commitment.

“But it would be wrong to disobey my father, or a priest, or the magistrate!” They abandon their authority if they ask you in any way to act with greed, or hatred, or deception.

“But I may have to lie, or steal, or do another some harm to get the job done!” If the job that needs to be done is to act with kindness, and love, and integrity, I will need to do nothing of the sort.

“But it won’t really be all that good if I have to lose my wealth, or my status, or even my life to achieve it!” I would only think that if I believed that the presence or absence of such qualities defined my merit and happiness.

Once I see that it is only disobedient to arrogantly reject what is virtuous, and only obedient to freely embrace what is virtuous, all my doubts and worries will disappear.

Written in 3/2000

Sayings of Ramakrishna 34

The God with form is visible, nay, we can touch Him face to face, as with one's dearest friend. 

Musonius Rufus, Lectures 16.3

“And yet I fancy one would consider it far less disobedient than in this case, the man who, having a money-loving father, is ordered by him to steal or make away with money entrusted to him, but does not carry out the order. Or do you think that there are no fathers who give such orders to their children?

“Well, I know a father so depraved that, having a son conspicuous for youthful beauty, he sold him into a life of shame. If, now, that lad who was sold and sent into such a life by his father had refused and would not go, should we say that he was disobedient or that he was showing purity of character? Surely even to ask the question is scarcely necessary.”

In the simplest of terms, it isn’t right just because the father orders it, but the father should order it because it is right. The authority of any person is relative to the presence of virtue, which is itself the highest measure of human excellence.

A parent may command a child, and the obedience of the child follows directly from the wisdom and the character of the parent, who shares something that he possesses with the one who is still learning to possess it.

What if the parent judges out of ignorance, or only encourages vice? The child is still called to offer respect for the one who gave him life, who raised him, and who provided for him, as is intended by Nature, but he is not called to do what he knows to be wrong. He is actually doing his parent a service, and expresses his piety all the more fully, if he objects with humility and sincerity.

Even though we don’t speak of obedience as would have been common only a few generations ago, I still notice how easily we go along with so much that we are told, often completely without question.

I remember a fellow from Boy Scouts who, though cut from a rough cloth, was still one of the kindest and most helpful people I had met. As I got to know him better, however, I saw a more sinister aspect, one that expressed itself first in petty theft, but soon grew into an involvement in the family enterprise of stealing and stripping cars. His profound reverence for his father, who was in prison most of the time, was the deciding factor in the choices he made.

I also remember so many of my peers in college, from far more refined backgrounds, insisting that they would go their own ways, and yet following almost exactly in their parent’s footsteps by continuing the tradition of worshiping money, and power, and reputation.

Was Luke Skywalker somehow obliged to join his father in going over to the Dark Side? I would argue that he was a far better and more loving son by being obedient to a good they could come to share together.

Written in 3/2000

Vanitas 21

Anonymous, Vanitas (1670)