“Tell the secret!”
I refuse to tell, for this is in my power.
“But I will chain you.”
What say you, fellow? Chain me? My leg you will chain—yes, but my will—no, not even Zeus can conquer that.
“I will imprison you.”
My bit of a body, you mean.
“I will behead you.”
Why? When did I ever tell you that I was the only man in the world that could not be beheaded?
These are the thoughts that those who pursue philosophy should ponder, these are the lessons they should write down day by day, in these they should exercise themselves.
Neglecting to practice a power over ourselves, since we fail to see its absolute benefits, we direct our efforts to winning power over others, in a vain attempt to claim something that can never truly be ours.
Some try to master their fellows through the acquisition of riches, and others seek to impress with glory and fame. Some pursue pleasure as a weapon of manipulation, and others use charming and impressive words to cloud people’s minds. The most forceful, but also the most foolish, turn to violence in order to intimidate.
And the only reason we ever think of such people as successful, as if their grasping and anxious lives were somehow happy and fulfilled, is because we do not understand our own human nature, and so we do not recognize that we need no more than to nourish what we already possess within ourselves.
“That may be easy for you to say, but you’ll be singing a different tune when those people take your home, or throw you into jail, or force you to follow all of their commands.”
I understand the objection quite well, having been subject to all sorts of attempts at coercion, both big and small, during my life. I have become familiar with the buyers and the sellers, the posers and the players, the demagogues and the bullies, and that is precisely why I can say, with confidence, that they can never take anything of real value from me that I do not freely choose to give for myself.
They can steal a house, but not a home. They can chain limbs, but not thoughts. They can threaten the flesh, but not the spirit. They limit my property, or destroy my reputation, or cripple my body, while all the time leaving my judgments intact, as long as I am alive to will it.
One thing that is so remarkable about the Stoic Turn is realizing that the more the wicked men try to threaten and do harm, the more they actually give the good men opportunities to become richer in their character.
All of this will only sound impossible if I convince myself that I cannot do it, that I require something beyond my own wisdom and virtue to live well.
I know how the pain can make me cry, and I know how the fear can make me tremble, and I know how the loneliness can drive me close to madness. And yet there still remains that invulnerable spot within me, where I can consider all those feelings, see them for what they are, redirect them for a better use. Give me your hatred, and I have the capacity to transform it into love.
“You do know that they can kill you as well?”
That was going to happen in any event; I am the one who will decide how I face it.
I refuse to tell, for this is in my power.
“But I will chain you.”
What say you, fellow? Chain me? My leg you will chain—yes, but my will—no, not even Zeus can conquer that.
“I will imprison you.”
My bit of a body, you mean.
“I will behead you.”
Why? When did I ever tell you that I was the only man in the world that could not be beheaded?
These are the thoughts that those who pursue philosophy should ponder, these are the lessons they should write down day by day, in these they should exercise themselves.
Neglecting to practice a power over ourselves, since we fail to see its absolute benefits, we direct our efforts to winning power over others, in a vain attempt to claim something that can never truly be ours.
Some try to master their fellows through the acquisition of riches, and others seek to impress with glory and fame. Some pursue pleasure as a weapon of manipulation, and others use charming and impressive words to cloud people’s minds. The most forceful, but also the most foolish, turn to violence in order to intimidate.
And the only reason we ever think of such people as successful, as if their grasping and anxious lives were somehow happy and fulfilled, is because we do not understand our own human nature, and so we do not recognize that we need no more than to nourish what we already possess within ourselves.
“That may be easy for you to say, but you’ll be singing a different tune when those people take your home, or throw you into jail, or force you to follow all of their commands.”
I understand the objection quite well, having been subject to all sorts of attempts at coercion, both big and small, during my life. I have become familiar with the buyers and the sellers, the posers and the players, the demagogues and the bullies, and that is precisely why I can say, with confidence, that they can never take anything of real value from me that I do not freely choose to give for myself.
They can steal a house, but not a home. They can chain limbs, but not thoughts. They can threaten the flesh, but not the spirit. They limit my property, or destroy my reputation, or cripple my body, while all the time leaving my judgments intact, as long as I am alive to will it.
One thing that is so remarkable about the Stoic Turn is realizing that the more the wicked men try to threaten and do harm, the more they actually give the good men opportunities to become richer in their character.
All of this will only sound impossible if I convince myself that I cannot do it, that I require something beyond my own wisdom and virtue to live well.
I know how the pain can make me cry, and I know how the fear can make me tremble, and I know how the loneliness can drive me close to madness. And yet there still remains that invulnerable spot within me, where I can consider all those feelings, see them for what they are, redirect them for a better use. Give me your hatred, and I have the capacity to transform it into love.
“You do know that they can kill you as well?”
That was going to happen in any event; I am the one who will decide how I face it.
Written in 8/2000
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