In like manner you should rebuke these two kinds of men—both those who always lack repose, and those who are always in repose. For love of bustle is not industry—it is only the restlessness of a hunted mind. And true repose does not consist in condemning all motion as merely vexation; that kind of repose is slackness and inertia.
Therefore, you should note the following saying, taken from my reading in Pomponius: "Some men shrink into dark corners, to such a degree that they see darkly by day." No, men should combine these tendencies, and he who reposes should act and he who acts should take repose.
Discuss the problem with Nature; she will tell you that she has created both day and night. Farewell.
Just as there are people who share too much and people who share too little, so too there are people who do too much and people who do too little.
This further example of falling into extremes is an ideal illustration, since the contrast between the excess and the deficiency is so vivid, and it is rare indeed to come across someone who has actually achieved the right balance between them.
I have known very many people who are frantic workers, in a constant state of anxiety about completing as many tasks as possible, in as little time possible, all for a mysterious sort of success.
Sometimes they want worldly rewards, and sometimes they just want to feel diverted by chores, but in almost all cases they have abandoned peace of mind for the sake of busywork.
I have also known very many people who are lazy bums, indifferent to the world around them, and willing to abandon any sense of responsibility. They may not even be gluttons for pleasure, simply resigned instead only to surrender.
Sometimes they feel that their past failures are irredeemable, and sometimes they have just been pampered and spoiled, but in almost all cases they have abandoned peace of mind due to despair.
And how often will I find that person who knows what work is for, and what leisure is for, and is able to find the harmony and complementarity between the two?
I have no right to condemn anyone at all, because I haven’t really managed it myself. I have days when I can’t stop moving, afraid that if I did so I would have to gaze at myself, and I have days when I refuse to even get out of bed, afraid of everything out there.
My struggle to find the right way to trust has the same sort of instability. At one moment I spill my soul to the worst possible companion, and at another moment I run away in terror from the best possible companion.
The girl I dated all through college was chronically dishonest, and yet I never found the courage to court the kind girl who sat next to me in all my history classes for four years, because I was afraid that she would laugh at me.
I know all too well that tendency to shrink away, to hide in a shadowy corner, on account of the risks that are involved; I was a master of that for many years. But where is the actual risk, and what do I really have to lose?
Nature made both light and darkness, just as Nature made both pleasure and pain. The choice to engage or to run away, and the choice to reach out my hand in love or to cower inside my lonely shell, is entirely up to me, and is in no way determined by what others may say or do.
If I am judging with wisdom and acting with virtue, nothing can really hurt me. Finding that precious balance, the mean between extremes, is entirely within my power, to go as I will go, even as the world goes as the world will go.
Therefore, you should note the following saying, taken from my reading in Pomponius: "Some men shrink into dark corners, to such a degree that they see darkly by day." No, men should combine these tendencies, and he who reposes should act and he who acts should take repose.
Discuss the problem with Nature; she will tell you that she has created both day and night. Farewell.
Just as there are people who share too much and people who share too little, so too there are people who do too much and people who do too little.
This further example of falling into extremes is an ideal illustration, since the contrast between the excess and the deficiency is so vivid, and it is rare indeed to come across someone who has actually achieved the right balance between them.
I have known very many people who are frantic workers, in a constant state of anxiety about completing as many tasks as possible, in as little time possible, all for a mysterious sort of success.
Sometimes they want worldly rewards, and sometimes they just want to feel diverted by chores, but in almost all cases they have abandoned peace of mind for the sake of busywork.
I have also known very many people who are lazy bums, indifferent to the world around them, and willing to abandon any sense of responsibility. They may not even be gluttons for pleasure, simply resigned instead only to surrender.
Sometimes they feel that their past failures are irredeemable, and sometimes they have just been pampered and spoiled, but in almost all cases they have abandoned peace of mind due to despair.
And how often will I find that person who knows what work is for, and what leisure is for, and is able to find the harmony and complementarity between the two?
I have no right to condemn anyone at all, because I haven’t really managed it myself. I have days when I can’t stop moving, afraid that if I did so I would have to gaze at myself, and I have days when I refuse to even get out of bed, afraid of everything out there.
My struggle to find the right way to trust has the same sort of instability. At one moment I spill my soul to the worst possible companion, and at another moment I run away in terror from the best possible companion.
The girl I dated all through college was chronically dishonest, and yet I never found the courage to court the kind girl who sat next to me in all my history classes for four years, because I was afraid that she would laugh at me.
I know all too well that tendency to shrink away, to hide in a shadowy corner, on account of the risks that are involved; I was a master of that for many years. But where is the actual risk, and what do I really have to lose?
Nature made both light and darkness, just as Nature made both pleasure and pain. The choice to engage or to run away, and the choice to reach out my hand in love or to cower inside my lonely shell, is entirely up to me, and is in no way determined by what others may say or do.
If I am judging with wisdom and acting with virtue, nothing can really hurt me. Finding that precious balance, the mean between extremes, is entirely within my power, to go as I will go, even as the world goes as the world will go.
Written in 2/2012
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