Stockdale on Stoicism 2

I'm going to concentrate on a major mind game today: Stoicism. Its seeds were planted in fourth century (B.C.) Athens, as a backlash against Plato's preoccupation with inuring everybody to the perfect society. 

Diogenes of Sinope, a friend of both Aristotle and Alexander the Great, (they all knew each other and all died within a two-year period), struck out on his campaign, not to conquer the East as did Alexander, not to stamp out ignorance as did Aristotle, but to do something about man s condition as a cowed citizen of a city state, without anything to believe in that could defuse the inner fears and desires which continually obsessed him. 

Man had to take command of his inner self, control himself. The Stoic goal was not the good society, but the good man!

—from James B. Stockdale, The Stoic Warrior's Triad

 

Abandoned Places 12

 

Nature 14

 

Epictetus, Discourses 1.2.1

Chapter 2: How one may be true to one’s character in everything. 

  
To the rational creature that which is against reason is alone past bearing; the rational he can always bear. Blows are not by nature intolerable.
 
“What do you mean?”
 
Let me explain; the Lacedaemonians bear flogging, because they have learnt that it is in accord with reason.
 
“But is it not intolerable to hang oneself?”
 
At any rate, when a man comes to feel that it is rational, he goes and hangs himself at once. In a word, if we look to it we shall see that by nothing is the rational creature so distressed as by the irrational, and again to nothing so much attracted as to the rational.
 
This is another one of those Stoic passages that can get some people quite angry, and I am genuinely curious what it is about it that pushes their buttons. I can only think that it gives the impression of diminishing the emotional significance of events, replacing it with merely a cold rationality? 
 
“This guy must be the stupidest and most heartless philosopher ever! How can he say that we can put up with anything reasonable? Doesn’t he see how much our feelings shape our decisions?” 
 
It isn’t my place to tell someone else how to read a text, yet the Stoicism I admire does not deny the passions in human experience, and it does not imply that we shouldn’t be attending to how we feel. 
 
Rather, it argues that it is only judgment that can give the proper context for our emotions. It will be our estimation of their significance to us, and our power to give them direction, that ultimately makes them become good or bad. 
 
We will find, with practice and commitment, that we can be the masters of our passions, just as a rider learns control over the reins. We will also find, with careful reflection, that feelings don’t just passively come to us; our very acts of consideration will also bring them about. 
 
I would further suggest that rationality here is not an impersonal calculation, like that of a machine crunching numbers, but more broadly the way in which the mind discovers and embraces a sense of deeper meaning and purpose. Understanding is what allows us to grasp the how and the why of things, to find our own rightful place in this world; there are necessarily great sentiments joined to such an awareness. 
 
Are my feelings affecting me? Absolutely. Must I do what they demand? Strictly speaking, they “demand” nothing at all; my conscious decision, which is in itself an act of the mind, will determine what I do with them. If I am a slave to my emotions, that is because my judgement has surrendered my will to get and my will to avoid. 
 
All men will care, though it is what they choose to care about that will make all the difference. I approach the passage from that perspective. 
 
In the simplest of terms, it is only when something truly “makes sense” to me that I am then motivated to act for its sake, and willing to bear hardship on account of it. The greater the degree of my conviction, the greater the degree of my commitment or sacrifice. 
 
The Spartans could gladly bear, even find honor in, being beaten. Someone might make a case that they were mistaken in these values, but it was nevertheless their thinking that informed their acting and feeling. 
 
A man may be filled with despair, and he so chooses to take his own life. Someone might make a case that his perspective is confused, but it is nevertheless his own estimation of meaning that takes him down this path. 
 
Indeed, a Spartan only freely embraced pain because he found it so reasonable. The suicide only walks away from life because he considers its continuation to be so unreasonable. The attitude made it so for them. 
 
If I judge it right and worthy, I will do anything to acquire it. If I judge it wrong and unworthy, I will do anything to avoid it. 

Written in 8/2000 

Stoic Snippets 49

Think too of him who forgets where the way leads, and that men quarrel with that with which they are most constantly in communion, the Reason which governs the Universe; and the things which they daily meet with seem to them strange. 

—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 4.46

Thomas a Kempis, The Imitation of Christ 3.26

Of the exaltation of a free spirit, which humble prayer more deserves than does frequent reading

1. Lord, this is the work of a perfect man, never to slacken his mind from attention to heavenly things, and among many cares to pass along as it were without care, not after the manner of one indifferent, but rather with the privilege of a free mind, cleaving to no creature with inordinate affection.

2. I beseech You, my most merciful Lord God, preserve me from the cares of this life, lest I become too much entangled; from many necessities of the body, lest I be taken captive by pleasure; from all obstacles of the spirit, lest I be broken and cast down with cares. I say not from those things which the vanity of the world goes about after with all eagerness, but from those miseries, which by the universal curse of mortality weigh down and hold back the soul of your servant in punishment, that it cannot enter into liberty of spirit, so often as it would.

3. O my God, sweetness unspeakable, turn into bitterness all my fleshly consolation, which draws me away from the love of eternal things, and wickedly allures toward itself by setting before me some present delight. Let not, O my God, let not flesh and blood prevail over me, let not the world and its short glory deceive me, let not the devil and his craftiness supplant me. Give me courage to resist, patience to endure, constancy to persevere. Grant, in place of all consolations of the world, the most sweet unction of Your Spirit, and in place of carnal love, pour into me the love of Your Name.

4. Behold, food and drink and clothing, and all the other needs appertaining to the support of the body, are burdensome to the devout spirit. Grant that I may use such things with moderation, and that I be not entangled with inordinate affection for them. To cast away all these things is not lawful, because nature must be sustained, but to require superfluities and things which merely minister delight, the holy law forbids; for otherwise the flesh would wax insolent against the spirit. In all these things, I beseech You, let Your hand guide and teach me, that I in no way exceed. 

Musonius Rufus, Fragments 35

Since the Fates have spun out the lot of death for all alike, he is blessed who dies not late but well.

 

This is a classic Stoic lesson, repeated very often, but very rarely taken to heart. The theory sounds quite noble, and yet I will continue in my shallow ways, clinging to quantity at the expense of quality. 

 

It can only be that I speak the words, while I do not truly understand. Perhaps I want to have it both ways, or I am still living with the hope that coming to be and passing away will apply to all the other creatures, except for me? 

 

If I cared first and foremost about the content of my character, regardless of any other preferences, I would not worry about how many more days, or months, or years I have ahead of me. If I saw how Nature delights in change, I would never fear death. 

 

I would, as Socrates said, be more inclined to fear wickedness, because wickedness runs faster than death. 

 

Pithy sayings, whatever the source, can be helpful points of reference, and yet they can all too easily become empty expressions, cheap posturings, where I rub my beard pensively, and undertake nothing to actually make my life any better. 

 

It will only mean something when I have the conviction to do something. 

Hans Holbein, The Dance of Death 24: The Nun

 

Dhammapada 97

The man who is free from credulity, but knows the uncreated, who has cut all ties, removed all temptations, renounced all desires, he is the greatest of men.

Boethius, The Consolation of Philosophy 5.33

 

“’But," you will say, ‘if it is in my power to change a purpose of mine, I will disregard Providence, since I may change what Providence foresees.’

 

“To which I answer, ‘You can change your purpose, but since the truth of Providence knows in its present that you can do so, and whether you do so, and in what direction you may change it, therefore you cannot escape that Divine foreknowledge: just as you cannot avoid the glance of a present eye, though you may by your free will turn yourself to all kinds of different actions.’

 

 "’What?’ you will say, ‘can I by my own action change Divine knowledge, so that if I choose now one thing, now another, Providence too will seem to change its knowledge?’ 

 

“No; Divine insight precedes all future things, turning them back and recalling them to the present time of its own peculiar knowledge. It does not change, as you may think, between this and that alternation of foreknowledge. It is constant in preceding and embracing by one glance all your changes. 

 

“And God does not receive this ever-present grasp of all things and vision of the present at the occurrence of future events, but from His own peculiar directness. Whence also is that difficulty solved which you laid down a little while ago, that it was not worthy to say that our future events were the cause of God's knowledge. For this power of knowledge, ever in the present and embracing all things in its perception, does itself constrain all things, and owes nothing to following events from which it has received nothing.” 

 

—from Book 5, Prose 6

 

Now perhaps I might believe that I can still “trick” God, that I can outwit Him by changing my mind. He looks over, and sees me doing one thing, but then I turn to do something else, and so I have messed up the whole plan. 

 

If I am somehow still thinking this way, I haven’t really been following along with the argument. It may seem rather childish of me, and yet this remains a quite common form of adult behavior, the manipulation of impressions to cover up a reality. I shouldn’t be trying to do that in human affairs, as a matter of my own character, but it is quite impossible for me to do that when it comes to Providence. 

 

I can certainly change myself, since that power has been conditionally gifted to me within Divine omnipotence. I cannot, however, change Divine omniscience, since that power transcends to the level of what is Absolute. Only imperfect creatures undergo change, while a perfect Creator is completely unchanging. 

 

Remember, “it has been” or “it will be” are human modes of perception; Divine existence rests in an “it is”. There is no receiving there, no absence there, only Being.

 

When I am playing games with appearances, which is really only a reflection of my own lack of integrity, I am assuming that others must be limited in their awareness, and I try to take advantage of that fact for my own gain. 

 

In a sense, it is like I am pretending to be a little god, deciding who gets to know what. A wise friend once firmly told me: “You can lie to yourself, and you can lie to your neighbors, but there’s no lying to the Universe. It has you all figured out, and there is no hiding from it.”

 

This is excellent advice. It isn’t even like I will eventually be exposed, the fear of every deceiver; I am already exposed, and I am only pulling the wool over my own eyes for the moment. 

 

Like any good geek, I do enjoy the metaphysical speculation about the possibility of time travel, and yet all of it really hinges on a question of logical order, where we run into contradictions with an opposition between past, present, and future. 

 

To truly become time travelers would actually require us to no longer be subject to the sequence of time, in which case it wouldn’t really be traveling anymore, would it? It would be existing as an eternal presence, and that is nothing less than becoming Divine. 

 

I can stand at a crossroads, and I can look right or left, forwards or backwards, considering all the possible paths and outcomes. For me, it has not yet come to be, and I will still choose to go this way or that. 

 

For Providence, my own freedom is certainly there, but all of it is there, with no unfolding. Maybe this frightens me? It can just as easily comfort me, in knowing that as long as I wish to be, I will always be held safe and secure. I hardly need to escape from Providence, since it contains within itself the fullness of all that is true, good, and beautiful. 

Written in 2/2016

Stockdale on Stoicism 1

Let's go right to the old master, Clausewitz. He said: "War is an act of violence to compel the enemy to do your will." Your will, not his will. We are in the business of breaking people's wills. That's all there is to war; once you have done that, the war is over.

And what is the most important weapon in breaking people's wills? This may surprise you, but I am convinced that holding the moral high ground is more important than firepower. 

For Clausewitz, war was not an activity governed by scientific laws, but a clash of wills, of moral forces. He wrote: "It is not the loss in men, horses, or guns, but in order, courage, confidence, cohesion and plan which come into consideration whether the engagement can still be continued; it is principally the moral forces which decide here." 

Moral forces! Conviction! Mind games!

—from James B. Stockdale, The Stoic Warrior's Triad

The Choice of Hercules 1

Domenico Beccafumi, The Choice of Hercules (c. 1525)

Few people will recognize the image these days, but the current fashions shouldn't concern me too much, since what is timeless is always new, and will never grow old. The "Choice of Hercules", sometimes called "Hercules at the Crossroads", is a wonderful allegory that described the ultimate choice in life that we must all make, even if we are not entirely sure when we are making it. 

The Greeks and Romans were in love with such stories, and with very good reason, as they are useful ways to remember what really matters in life. The plot is simple, but the stakes are high. Will I take the easy path, a way of gratification, or will I take the hard path, a way of character? Perhaps I can put off the decision for a while, but I will have to commit one way or another. Every one of us has to do so. 

I first came across it in Xenophon's Memorabilia of Socrates, though he attributes it to Prodicus, and then I couldn't help but find references to it all through the art and literature of the centuries. Once it was stuck in my head, it became a sort of reference point, when I realized that even situations that seemed trivial always pointed back to this decision. 

The text from Xenophon is included below. I suggest it is worth taking a few minutes to read it, since it has given me many years of benefit. 

* * * * *

When Hercules was emerging from boyhood into the bloom of youth, having reached that season in which the young man, now standing upon the verge of independence, shows plainly whether he will enter upon the path of virtue or of vice, he went forth into a quiet place, and sat debating with himself which of those two paths he should pursue; and as he there sat musing, there appeared to him two women of great stature which drew nigh to him. 

 

The one was fair to look upon, frank and free by gift of nature, her limbs adorned with purity and her eyes with bashfulness; sobriety set the rhythm of her gait, and she was clad in white apparel. 

 

The other was of a different type; the fleshy softness of her limbs betrayed her nurture, while the complexion of her skin was embellished that she might appear whiter and rosier than she really was, and her figure that she might seem taller than nature made her; she stared with wide-open eyes, and the raiment wherewith she was clad served but to reveal the ripeness of her bloom. With frequent glances she surveyed her person, or looked to see if others noticed her; while ever and anon she fixed her gaze upon the shadow of herself intently.

 

Now when these two had drawn near to Hercules, she who was first named advanced at an even pace towards him, but the other, in her eagerness to outstrip her, ran forward to the youth, exclaiming, “I see you, Hercules, in doubt and difficulty what path of life to choose; make me your friend, and I will lead you to the pleasantest road and easiest. 

 

“This I promise you: you shall taste all of life's sweets and escape all bitters. In the first place, you shall not trouble your brain with war or business; other topics shall engage your mind; your only speculation, what meat or drink you shall find agreeable to your palate; what delight of ear or eye; what pleasure of smell or touch; what darling lover's intercourse shall most enrapture you; how you shall pillow your limbs in softest slumber; how cull each individual pleasure without alloy of pain; and if ever the suspicion steal upon you that the stream of joys will one day dwindle, trust me 

 

“I will not lead you where you shall replenish the store by toil of body and trouble of soul. No! others shall labor, but you shall reap the fruit of their labors; you shall withhold your hand from nothing which shall bring you gain. For to all my followers I give authority and power to help themselves freely from every side.”

 

Hercules hearing these words made answer: “What, O lady, is the name you bear?” To which she: “Know that my friends call be Happiness, but they that hate me have their own nicknames for me, Vice and Naughtiness.”

 

But just then the other of those fair women approached and spoke: “Hercules, I too am come to you, seeing that your parents are well known to me, and in your nurture I have gauged your nature; wherefore I entertain good hope that if you choose the path which leads to me, you shall greatly bestir yourself to be the doer of many a doughty deed of noble emprise; and that I too shall be held in even higher honor for your sake, lit with the luster shed by valorous deeds. 

 

“I will not cheat you with preludings of pleasure, but I will relate to you the things that are according to the ordinances of God in very truth. Know then that among things that are lovely and of good report, not one have the gods bestowed upon mortal men apart from toil and pains.

 

“Would you obtain the favor of the gods, then must you pay these same gods service; would you be loved by your friends, you must benefit these friends; do you desire to be honored by the state, you must give the state your aid; do you claim admiration for your virtue from all Hellas, you must strive to do some good to Hellas; do you wish earth to yield her fruits to you abundantly, to earth must you pay your court; do you seek to amass riches from your flocks and herds, on them must you bestow your labor; or is it your ambition to be potent as a warrior, able to save your friends and to subdue your foes, then must you learn the arts of war from those who have the knowledge, and practice their application in the field when learned; or would you even be powerful of limb and body, then must you habituate limbs and body to obey the mind, and exercise yourself with toil and sweat.”

 

At this point, Vice broke in exclaiming: “See you, Hercules, how hard and long the road is by which yonder woman would escort you to her festal joys. But I will guide you by a short and

easy road to happiness.”

 

Then spoke Virtue: “Nay, wretched one, what good thing have you? Or what sweet thing are you acquainted with—that will stir neither hand nor foot to gain it? 

 

“You, that may not even await the desire of pleasure, but, or ever that desire springs up, are already satiated; eating before you hunger, and drinking before you thirst; who to eke out an appetite must invent an army of cooks and confectioners; and to whet your thirst must lay down costliest wines, and run up and down in search of ice in summer-time; to help your slumbers soft coverlets suffice not, but couches and feather-beds must be prepared for you and rockers to rock you to rest; since desire for sleep in your case springs not from toil but from vacuity and nothing in the world to do. 

 

“Even the natural appetite of love you force prematurely by every means you may devise, confounding the sexes in your service. Thus you educate your friends: with insult in the night season and drowse of slumber during the precious hours of the day.

 

“Immortal, you are cast forth from the company of gods, and by good men art dishonored: that sweetest sound of all, the voice of praise, has never thrilled your ears; and the fairest of all fair visions is hidden from your eyes that have never beheld one bounteous deed wrought by your own hand. 

 

“If you open your lips in speech, who will believe your word? If you have need of anything, none shall satisfy you. What sane man will venture to join your rabble rout? Ill indeed are your revelers to look upon, young men impotent of body, and old men witless in mind: in the heyday of life they batten in sleek idleness, and wearily do they drag through an age of wrinkled wretchedness: and why? they blush with shame at the thought of deeds done in the past, and groan for weariness at what is left to do. During their youth they ran riot through their sweet things, and laid up for themselves large store of bitterness against the time of old. 

 

“But my companionship is with the gods; and with the good among men my conversation; no bounteous deed, divine or human, is wrought without my aid. Therefore am I honored in Heaven pre-eminently, and upon earth among men whose right it is to honor me; as a beloved fellow-worker of all craftsmen; a faithful guardian of house and lands, whom the owners bless; a kindly helpmeet of servants; a brave assistant in the labors of peace; an unflinching ally in the deeds of war; a sharer in all friendships indispensable. 

 

“To my friends is given an enjoyment of meats and drinks, which is sweet in itself and devoid of trouble, in that they can endure until desire ripens, and sleep more delicious visits them than those who toil not. Yet they are not pained to part with it; nor for the sake of slumber do they let slip the performance of their duties. 

 

“Among my followers the youth delights in the praises of his elders, and the old man glories in the honor of the young; with joy they call to memory their deeds of old, and in today's well-doing are well pleased. 

 

“For my sake they are dear in the sight of God, beloved of their friends and honored by the country of their birth. When the appointed goal is reached they lie not down in oblivion with dishonor, but bloom afresh—their praise resounded on the lips of men forever. 

 

“Toils like these, O son of noble parents, Hercules, it is yours to meet with, and having endured, to enter into the heritage assured you of transcendent happiness.”

 

—from Xenophon, Memorabilia 2.1 (tr H.G. Dakyns)

* * * * *

Annibale Carracci, The Choice of Hercules (1596)

Seneca, Moral Letters 6.5

Meanwhile, I owe you my little daily contribution; you shall be told what pleased me today in the writings of Hecato; it is these words: "What progress, you ask, have I made? I have begun to be a friend to myself." 

 
That was indeed a great benefit; such a person can never be alone. You may be sure that such a man is a friend to all mankind. Farewell.
 
I fear that many of my past troubles have had a common origin, one I was not even quite aware of for the longest time: I neglected to be a friend to myself. 
 
For much of my life I even intensely disliked myself, wishing that, in most every possible way, I had somehow been made differently. This was not the fault of people who told be how much of a loser I was, though I was angry with them for long enough. No, the error was my own, for listening to such nasty words. I can’t change how I was made, and I can’t change what other folks say or do, but I certainly can change how I think and act. 
 
The Black Dog doesn’t help, of course, but even his weight can be put to good use, as a daily exercise in self-discipline. Once I recognize what is truly mine, his bark is worse than his bite. 
 
I must be careful of not slipping into the other extreme, of always slapping myself on the back and making excuses for my bad choices, but the fact remains that I must continue learning to respect myself. Even when I don’t like what I do, I still retain the dignity given to me by Nature, and I have it within me to always become better. 
 
To put myself down, to consider myself without value, is hardly an expression of humility, even as I may feel it so sincerely. It is an act of despair and escape, a frantic attempt to cast off my responsibility instead of embracing it. For some of us, our bad habits can make it very difficult to say, but it must nevertheless be said regularly: You are worthy of loving, and of being loved.
 
If I can look at who and what I am, without any of the baggage getting in the way, I will see a creature of intellect and of will, and that Nature made me this way is already in and of itself a wonderful thing. Now let me live up to that gift, instead of neglecting it. 
 
I will often feel alone, but even if I only retain myself, I still possess the fullness of my humanity, and I can always be my own best companion. If I find that I am bad company, that is something I can certainly fix. 
 
It is only when I have managed to take care of myself that I can then also work on taking care of others. Recognizing a shared identity with my fellows, both the ones who treat me well and the ones who treat me poorly, I am able to get beyond all those artificial impositions of division and resentment. 
 
Where one human life is respected without conditions, it can only follow that all human lives are respected without conditions. If I fall down, I lift myself up. If my neighbor falls down, I help him to lift himself up. 

Written in 3/2012

Ellis Walker, Epictetus in Poetical Paraphrase 8

VIII.

In things that charm the soul, which love incite,

By nature's force, use, profit, or delight.
Beginning from the meanest things, that share
Thy tender thoughts consider what they are.
As thus: suppose some modish new device,
Of potter's skill in earthen ware thou prize,
Consider 'tis but varnish'd clay, that's broke
By ev'ry light and accidental stroke;
Thus when the pleasing toy you broken find,
The puny loss shall not disturb your mind.
Thus if a kind soft wife, or pratling boy,
With beauty charm, and a paternal joy,
Consider these dear objects of thy love,
Which round thy heart with so much pleasure move,
Are but mere mortal pots of finer clay,
Wrought with more art, more subject to decay;
Poor, feeble, sickly things, of human kind,
To the long cares of a short life confin'd,
The riotous sport of death, whole beauties must
Crumble to their first principles of dust.
Arm'd with these thoughts, thou never shalt bewail
The loss of things so ruinous and frail.

Sayings of Ramakrishna 59

Five are the kinds of Siddhas found in this world:

(1) The Svapna Siddhas are those who attain perfection by means of dream inspiration.

(2) The Mantra Siddhas are those who attain perfection by means of any sacred mantra.

(3) The Hathat Siddhas are those who attain perfection suddenly. As a poor man may suddenly become rich by finding a hidden treasure, or by marrying into a rich family, so many sinners become pure all of a sudden, and enter the Kingdom of Heaven.

(4) The Kripâ Siddhas are those who attain perfection through the tangible grace of the Almighty, as a poor man is made wealthy by the kindness of a king.

(5) The Nitya Siddhas are those who are ever-perfect. As a gourd or a pumpkin-creeper brings forth fruit first and then its flower, so the ever-perfect is born a Siddha, and all his seeming exertions after perfection are merely for the sake of setting examples to humanity.

Musonius Rufus, Fragments 34

The treasures of Croesus and Cinyras we shall condemn as the last degree of poverty. One man and one alone shall we consider rich, the man who has acquired the ability to want for nothing always and everywhere.

 

I don’t know of anyone under sixty who exclaims “Rich as Croesus!” anymore, though I suppose someone like Bill Gates now stands in for that role. 

 

I hear some people say wonderful things about Mr. Gates, and I hear other people say terrible things about him, but the fact is that I have little idea about his personal character, since all I can see is a carefully crafted media image. 

 

That in itself is a very telling point, because people of that sort are considered famous and important simply on account of being rich, having received power and influence through Fortune’s toss. Are there many other people out there who might be wiser or kinder? It is likely that there are, and yet they are not thought to be great. 

 

If I take my blinders off to look at this without all the layers of social custom, such a state of affairs should appear to be quite ridiculous. 

 

I follow the herd in admiring a fellow on account of the things around him, and I pay no attention to what is actually in his soul. I judge him by his circumstances, somehow convinced that he made all of it for himself, when I really know that we all have very little say in what is going to happen to us. 

 

I would be better served by looking for wealth on the inside, not on the outside. Who is the man who is truly rich? Not the one who defines himself by how much property or praise comes his way, but the one who is completely content with absolutely anything that comes his way. 

 

A spiritual prosperity rests in self-sufficiency, in never demanding any more than I already have, any more than I am in the merit my own thoughts and deeds.

IMAGE: Frans Francken the Younger, Croesus Showing his Treasures to Solon (c. 1620)

Vanitas 35

Philippe de Champaigne, Vanitas Still Life (1671)

Stoic Snippets 48

In the series of things, those which follow are always aptly fitted to those which have gone before: for this series is not like a mere enumeration of disjointed things, which has only a necessary sequence, but it is a rational connection. 

—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 4.45

Dhammapada 96

His thought is quiet, quiet are his word and deed, when he has obtained freedom by true knowledge, when he has thus become a quiet man.

Wisdom from the Bhagavad Gita 27

15. They do not devote themselves to Me—the evil-doers, the deluded, the lowest of men, deprived of discrimination by Mâyâ, and following the way of the Asuras (Seekers of Power).

16. Four kinds of virtuous men worship Me, O Arjuna—the distressed, the seeker of knowledge, the seeker of enjoyment, and the wise, O bull among the Bhâratas.

17. Of them, the wise man, ever-steadfast, and fired with devotion to the One, excels; for supremely dear am I to the wise, and he is dear to Me.

18. Noble indeed are they all, but the wise man I regard as My very Self; for with the mind steadfast, he is established in Me alone, as the supreme goal.

19. At the end of many births, the man of wisdom takes refuge in Me, realizing that all this is Vâsudeva, the innermost Self. Very rare is that great soul.

20. Others again, deprived of discrimination by this or that desire, following this or that rite, devote themselves to other gods, led by their own natures. 

21. Whatsoever form any devotee seeks to worship with Shraddhâ—that Shraddhâ of his do I make unwavering.

22. Endued with that Shraddhâ, he engages in the worship of that, and from it, gains his desires—these being verily dispensed by Me alone.

—Bhagavad Gita, 7:15-22

 

Seneca, Moral Letters 6.4

I shall therefore send to you the actual books; and in order that you may not waste time in searching here and there for profitable topics, I shall mark certain passages, so that you can turn at once to those which I approve and admire. 
 
Of course, however, the living voice and the intimacy of a common life will help you more than the written word. You must go to the scene of action, first, because men put more faith in their eyes than in their ears, and second, because the way is long if one follows precepts, but short and helpful, if one follows patterns.
 
Cleanthes could not have been the express image of Zeno, if he had merely heard his lectures; he shared in his life, saw into his hidden purposes, and watched him to see whether he lived according to his own rules. 
 
Plato, Aristotle, and the whole throng of sages who were destined to go each his different way, derived more benefit from the character than from the words of Socrates. 
 
It was not the classroom of Epicurus, but living together under the same roof, that made great men of Metrodorus, Hermarchus, and Polyaenus. 
 
Therefore I summon you, not merely that you may derive benefit, but that you may confer benefit; for we can assist each other greatly.
 
I have always been a bookworm, for as long as I can remember, and so I am immediately sympathetic to others who find solace in the written word. I enjoy some simple, though sadly not always inexpensive, hobbies that bring me joy, but good books will reach much further into my soul, inspiring a whole new sense of meaning. 
 
If I had to, I could manage without my quirky music, or my trademark fedora hats, or my smoking pipes; I imagine, however, that I would struggle existentially without access to my books. 
 
Speaking only for myself, with my own set of weaknesses, that is not necessarily a good thing. People will love to read for all sorts of different reasons, and I must be careful that mine is not reduced to an act of escape. 
 
I hope I am on the right track when I say that I read simply in order to better understand, not just as a means to some worldly gain, as was the case with most of my peers. At the same time, I am wary that I may read in order to run away from situations that trouble me. 
 
After all, I would suggest that any art, as a creative expression, should point me right back to the world, to glorify it, to magnify it, to reveal ever more the beauty and harmony that are deep down in things. None of my thinking and my feeling will be of any use to me at all, if they do not help me to act with greater appreciation and purpose. 
 
The writing is for the living, just as the thinking is for the doing. A word has great power, and a deed has far greater power still. The image and the concept must breathe, not be stifled and locked away. Let me, by all means, learn about a principle from a book, but let me then also see it at work. 
 
Define justice with insight and clarity, and now put it into gritty practice. Praise the nobility of heroism, and now take the blows and the cuts that must come with it, especially when no one is there to see you, or to write a song about it. Write passionate lines about love, and now bear the mighty burden of giving yourself to another, to the point of losing yourself to the other. 
 
Cleanthes, or Plato, or Epictetus did not become great philosophers because they followed the words of Zeno, or Socrates, or Musonius Rufus. Rather, they became great men because they followed the examples of their mentors, and the mentors in turn found inspiration in sharing a friendship with the students. 
 

A library, however pleasant, will itself never make anything of me, though it is still possible that I can make use of the library as a way to make something of myself. What the hands are doing needs to exemplify what the words are saying. 

Written in 3/2012

IMAGE: Carl Spitzweg, The Bookworm (c. 1850)