For what else is it that tells us that gold is a goodly thing? For the gold does not tell us. Clearly it is the faculty which can deal with our impressions. What else is it which distinguishes the faculties of music, grammar, and the rest, testing their uses and pointing out the due seasons for their use? It is reason and nothing else.
The gods then, as was but right, put in our hands the one blessing that is best of all and master of all, that and nothing else, the power to deal rightly with our impressions, but everything else they did not put in our hands.
Was it that they would not? For my part I think that if they could have entrusted us with those other powers as well they would have done so, but they were quite unable. Prisoners on the earth and in an earthly body and among earthly companions, how was it possible that we should not be hindered from the attainment of these powers by these external fetters?
Gold, and silver, and all sorts of precious jewels are apparently wonderful things, and I should surely admire them. Little metal discs and slips of green paper, with gravely serious writing on them, are clearly worth collecting, and I have an imaginary number, given to me by a bank, to prove how much of this essential commodity I have accumulated.
How do I know this? Didn’t these things somehow tell me they were all worth my efforts?
They did nothing of the sort. It was my own judgment that gave them value, and it is my own judgment that can also decide that they are meaningless. It is also not to my credit if I only listened to what other people told me about these trinkets; I should then be ashamed of my weak judgment.
Do I now feel rather useless, having let myself be taken for a ride? I should rather feel quite powerful, finally recognizing that it is the action of my own mind that makes anything desirable or undesirable to me. My own reason, whether I use it well or use it poorly, is the final arbiter.
I may at first believe that I was poorly made, and yet I will only say that if I define myself by everything besides myself. I was actually quite magnificently made, created with the power to be my own master, completely unassailable, if only I so decide. All else can come and go, but my thoughts remain my own.
I still complain, of course, that the gods did not give me a domination over the rest of the world, and I do so because I stubbornly refuse to acknowledge precisely that I am a man, and not a god. What else could be added to my nature, to make me any better as a human being, than being my own man? A dog might as well wish that he was a cat instead of a dog.
I could look at it quite positively, becoming aware that denying me a rule over others is a friendly reminder to do a better job of ruling myself.
Written in 8/2000
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