Tao Te Ching 76

Man at his birth is supple and weak; at his death, firm and strong.

So it is with all things. Trees and plants, in their early growth, are soft and brittle; at their death, dry and withered.

Thus it is that firmness and strength are the concomitants of death; softness and weakness, the concomitants of life.

Hence he who relies on the strength of his forces does not conquer; and a tree which is strong will fill the outstretched arms, and thereby invites the feller.

Therefore the place of what is firm and strong is below, and that of what is soft and weak is above.

Dhammapada 107

If a man for a hundred years worships Agni (fire) in the forest, and if he but for one moment pays homage to a man whose soul is grounded in true knowledge, better is that homage than sacrifice for a hundred years.

Seneca, Moral Letters 7.2

But nothing is so damaging to good character as the habit of lounging at the games; for then it is that vice steals subtly upon one through the avenue of pleasure. What do you think I mean? I mean that I come home more greedy, more ambitious, more voluptuous, and even more cruel and inhuman—because I have been among human beings. 

 

By chance I attended a mid-day exhibition, expecting some fun, wit, and relaxation—an exhibition at which men's eyes have respite from the slaughter of their fellow men. 

 

But it was quite the reverse. The previous combats were the essence of compassion; but now all the trifling is put aside, and it is pure murder. The men have no defensive armor. They are exposed to blows at all points, and no one ever strikes in vain.

 

Many persons prefer this program to the usual pairs and to the bouts "by request." Of course they do; there is no helmet or shield to deflect the weapon. What is the need of defensive armor, or of skill? All these mean delaying death. 

 

In the morning they throw men to the lions and the bears; at noon, they throw them to the spectators. The spectators demand that the slayer shall face the man who is to slay him in his turn; and they always reserve the latest conqueror for another butchering. The outcome of every fight is death, and the means are fire and sword. This sort of thing goes on while the arena is empty.

 

The Romans had all sorts of public games to keep the people entertained, or, as those like Juvenal saw it, to keep them occupied and diverted. One could sit back and relax to music and dancing, grand theatrical performances, athletic competitions, horse and chariot racing, gladiatorial combat, or beast fighting. I have long been especially fascinated by the mock naval battles, performed with scale models in giant artificial pools. 

 

Whenever I was taught about these Roman games at school, most teachers and students expressed a certain curiosity, along with a smug condescension. I suppose the assumption was that we no longer do such ridiculous things, especially not of the more violent variety. After all, what sort of civilized and modern person would be amused by watching pain and suffering? 

 

I did try to point out that we still do very much the same, with our own peculiar variations, but I quickly learned to zip my lip. I was met with blank stares. “Don’t be so silly! No one ever gets hurt nowadays!”

 

Sometimes the violence is to the body, and sometimes the violence is to the soul. In whatever combinations we find it, I can only wonder about the desires that go behind it. Yes, there is sadly a powerful excitement we can get from experiencing brutality, especially when it is amplified by the roar of the masses. 

 

The professional gladiators fought with elaborate weapons and armor, practicing carefully choreographed moves, and won big profits for their promoters. Perhaps the high production values could hide a bit of the deeper nastiness, but there were some that didn’t even need such a fancy veneer. They were drawn to the public execution of criminals that Seneca describes. 

 

After all, if some poor fellow has to die by law, why not make a show of it? Then the people can get their money’s worth. 

 

When I taught middle and high school, I recall many times where young folks, who normally wouldn’t think of hurting a fly, got sucked into throwing fists if they were goaded on by a crowd. 

 

The eager spectators themselves may have, individually, been decent people, and yet, in the middle of all the boasting and the shouting, they became something very different. Hatred and violence are toxic that way, seeming to jump from one shaking fist to another, bypassing the mind completely. 

 

I only need to remember that a personal love, rising up from far deeper inside than any bloodlust, is the only antidote. 

Written in 4/2012

The Wisdom of Solomon 8:16-21

[16] When I enter my house, I shall find rest with her,

for companionship with her has no bitterness,
and life with her has no pain, but gladness and joy.
[17] When I considered these things inwardly,
and thought upon them in my mind,
that in kinship with wisdom there is immortality,
[18] and in friendship with her, pure delight,
and in the labors of her hands, unfailing wealth,
and in the experience of her company, understanding,
and renown in sharing her words,
I went about seeking how to get her for myself.
[19] As a child I was by nature well endowed,
and a good soul fell to my lot;
[20] or rather, being good, I entered an undefiled body.
[21] But I perceived that I would not possess wisdom
unless God gave her to me—
and it was a mark of insight to know whose gift she was—
so I appealed to the Lord and besought him,
and with my whole heart I said: . . .

IMAGE: Giovanni Domenico Cerrini, An Allegory of Wisdom (c. 1660)

Sayings of Ramakrishna 68

As a rope that is burnt retains its shape intact, but has become all ashes, so that nothing can be bound with it; similarly, the man who is emancipated retains the form of his egoism, but not an idea of vanity (Ahamkâra).

Seneca, Moral Letters 7.1

Letter 7: On crowds

Do you ask me what you should regard as especially to be avoided? I say, crowds; for as yet you cannot trust yourself to them with safety. 

 

I shall admit my own weakness, at any rate; for I never bring back home the same character that I took abroad with me. Something of that which I have forced to be calm within me is disturbed; some of the foes that I have routed return again. 

 

Just as the sick man, who has been weak for a long time, is in such a condition that he cannot be taken out of the house without suffering a relapse, so we ourselves are affected when our souls are recovering from a lingering disease. 

 

To consort with the crowd is harmful; there is no person who does not make some vice attractive to us, or stamp it upon us, or taint us unconsciously therewith. Certainly, the greater the mob with which we mingle, the greater the danger.

 

I must resist accusing others of being the cause of my own failures, and yet I must be acutely aware that the company I keep will make my own choices easier or harder. The quality of the people around me, for better or for worse, influences the quality of my thoughts. 

 

The old Peripatetic in me sees it as the difference between an efficient and a material cause, that which acts and that out of which it acts. 

 

To be surrounded by a crowd can often magnify the confusion, for I am more easily tempted to follow the many instead of the few, the blunt force of what is popular over the delicate nudge of what is wise. Old habits die hard, and few things will hinder independent thought more than moving along thoughtlessly with the herd. 

 

Perhaps one day I will have built the strength of character to effortlessly let it all bounce off of me, but that day is not yet today. I still feel drawn to a shallow and banal conformity, where the worst deeds suddenly seem like the safest deeds. 

 

I will always remember when, way back in elementary school, my mother would describe how I was a radically different person when I came home, after having spent the day surrounded by noise and bluster. “It takes an hour or so,” she said, “and then the fellow I know comes out again.” I laughed it off, of course, but she was completely right. 

 

The trick is in knowing my own dispositions, and never shrugging off the powerful effect that being surrounded by wickedness can have on my own soul. Before I know it, I start speaking and acting like a drunken braggart, or a shifty salesman, or a pompous academic, depending on the settings for the day. 

 

It is foolish to rush back into the world right after recovering from an illness, and it is foolish to think that I am immune to vices in public that I can barely overcome in private. 

 

Peer pressure is hardly a problem only for children, something we can assume we automatically outgrow. When I see everyone else doing something, fired up by one or another sort of feeding frenzy, I will feel an instinctive urge to follow along, on the premise that what is common must also be best. The agreement of the many seems to give it all authority and weight, when it is really just a matter of mindless mimicry. 

 

Did your own mother ask you if all your friends jumped off a cliff, whether you would go and do the same? Of course she did, if she was a good mother. 

 

Did you roll your eyes and mumble a weak denial? Of course you did, but you knew you were lying. 

 

Did any of that change after they gave you the corner office, a dental plan, and those extra two weeks of paid vacation? 

Written in 4/2012

The Art of Peace 67

Always try to be in communion with heaven and earth; then the world will appear in its true light. 

Self-conceit will vanish, and you can blend with any attack.

Stoic Snippets 57

So you do not love yourself, for if you did, you would love your nature and her will. 

But those who love their several arts exhaust themselves in working at them unwashed and without food; but you value your own nature less than the turner values the turning art, or the dancer the dancing art, or the lover of money values his money, or the vainglorious man his little glory. 

And such men, when they have a violent affection to a thing, choose neither to eat nor to sleep rather than to perfect the things that they care for. But are the acts that concern society more vile in your eyes and less worthy of your labor?

—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 5.1

Musonius Rufus, Fragments 53

Someone who was urging me to take heart quoted a saying of Musonius. 

 

"Musonius," said he, "wishing to rouse a man who was depressed and weary of life, touched him and asked, 'What are you waiting for, why stand you idly gazing? Until God in person shall come and stand by you and utter human speech? Cut off the dead part of your soul and you will recognize the presence of God.'”

 

“Such," he said, "were the words of Musonius."

 

I suffer from the Black Dog. Each and every day that I wake up, I have an immediate feeling that I would prefer to die than go on living. I know what it means to lose heart. 

 

I then take a moment to find my bearings, to remember that each and every thing, including my paltry self, is touched by God.

 

There are many, many like me, and it does us no good to be told to “suck it up”. It would be more helpful to hear that we have worth, and that grace is real, and that you might offer a loving hand. 

 

The world is charged with the grandeur of God. . . 

 

And so I am now fired up, ready to think that I must do nothing at all, that happiness will somehow come to me on a silver platter. The Lord will provide! 

 

No. Providence most certainly provides, but I must first make myself amenable. I must do my own work, in order for the Divine to do its work. 

 

That waking moment is a moment of putting on the armor. It is a moment of sharpening the blade. I know that I will have to fight for my dignity today. 

 

And I am my only enemy. 

 

The armor protects me from my own arrogance. The sword cuts away at my own resentments.

 

I will only find God, and thereby find myself, when I choose to excise what is useless to me. 

 

Once I do my part, with sweat and blood, I will find that God was never something out there. Then I win back my heart. 

 

Fragments of Parmenides 22

The Way of Opinion . . . 

Here shall I close my trustworthy speech and thought about the truth.

Henceforward learn the beliefs of mortals, giving ear to the deceptive ordering of my words. 

Mortals have made up their minds to name two forms, one of which they should not name, and that is where they go astray from the truth.

They have distinguished them as opposite in form, and have assigned to them marks distinct from one another. 

To the one they allot the fire of heaven, gentle, very light, in every direction the same as itself, but not the same as the other. 

The other is just the opposite to it, dark night, a compact and heavy body. 

Of these I tell you the whole arrangement as it seems likely; for so no thought of mortals will ever outstrip you. 

Dhammapada 106

If a man for a hundred years sacrifices month after month with a thousand, and if he but for one moment pays homage to a man whose soul is grounded in true knowledge, better is that homage than sacrifice for a hundred years.

Musonius Rufus, Fragments 52

"To relax (remittere) the mind," said Musonius, "is to lose (amittere) it."

 

I always enjoy a good play on words, simply because I enjoy the subtleties of language. I sadly did not inherit the linguistic skills of my father, though I did inherit some of his sense of humor. 

 

Yet what Musonius has to say here is far more than a clever joke; it offers me an incredibly important lesson. 

 

Stoicism teaches the pursuit of serenity, of finding a peace of mind in the midst of so much worldly conflict and struggle. Still, when I come across people who present seemingly similar values, I am often struck by what I can only call, with all due respect, a sense of profound laziness. 

 

“Don’t worry about it! Just let it all flow, and don’t make an effort. It’s all good! You don’t have to try; it will come to you.”

 

Lao Tzu did not tell us to sit on our rear ends and grow fat. Krishna did not renounce action, but only a desire for the fruit of the act. The Buddha did not encourage sloppy living. Jesus called us to a conscious commitment of unconditional love, not to become thoughtless and careless. 

 

Tranquility is not passivity. Life is itself a principle of action, and rational life is itself a principle of rational action. The confusion arises when I assume that action must be against something, when it should more rightly be with something. There is the flow!

 

I have little patience for any sort of sloth, but especially not for the moral sort. I know this from my own constant failures, not from judging others. Vice will creep in before I know it, and so I must always be on my guard. 

 

I will keep my eyes open. I will move when my conscience calls me. There will be no falling asleep on the job of life. 

Sayings of Ramakrishna 67

As water passes under a bridge but never stagnates, so money passes through the hands of 'The Free' who never hoard it.

Sayings of Heraclitus 41

 

Wantonness needs putting out, even more than a house on fire.

Musonius Rufus, Fragments 51

When I was still a boy at school, I heard that this Greek saying, which I here set down, was uttered by Musonius the philosopher, and because the sentiment is true and striking as well as neatly and concisely rounded out, I was very happy to commit it to memory. 

 

"If one accomplishes some good though with toil, the toil passes, but the good remains; if one does something dishonorable with pleasure, the pleasure passes, but the dishonor remains." 

 

Afterwards I read that same sentiment in a speech of Cato's which was delivered at Numantia to the knights. Although it is expressed a little less compactly and concisely as compared with the Greek which I have quoted, yet because it is earlier and more ancient, it may well seem more impressive. 

 

The words from his speech are the following: "Consider this in your hearts: if you accomplish some good attended with toil, the toil will quickly leave you; but if you do some evil attended with pleasure, the pleasure will quickly pass away, but the bad deed will remain with you always."

 

I can hear the professional scholars already: “We have here another example of how derivative and unoriginal the thinking of Musonius was, recycling the words of Cato the Elder, or of the Greek Stoics that came before him.”

 

I can only shrug and say that I care far less if something happens to be original than I do if it happens to be true. Sharing something helpful is a service, while insisting on taking personal credit is a self-service. 

 

I am also told, by much the same sort of people, that Stoicism is a deeply inefficient philosophy, incapable of getting anything useful done. I can, however, turn to the very passage above for some guidance to set myself straight. 

 

Efficiency, the experts say, is about gaining as much as we can while giving up as little as we have to, the relationship of benefit and cost. I’m already a little worried about the selfishness that can follow from such an approach, and yet it really all depends on what it is we are hoping to gain, and what it is we are willing to lose. 

 

I can talk all I want about the most productive means, and none of it gets me anywhere without first identifying the proper end. Useful for what? 

 

It is in this that the Stoic differs from the usual money maker, or power broker, or fortune seeker, because the Stoic examines human nature itself, and finds that happiness is to be found not in hoarding trinkets, but in a sturdy and steady peace of mind. 

 

Now what, to use the popular term, is the most efficient way to achieve this goal? What is it in this life that is most fleeting, what is it that is most lasting? What will give me the greatest return on my investment? 

 

The circumstances of the moment will come and go very quickly, while the content of my character will stick with me for the long haul. The pain and the pleasure pass, though the state of the soul remains. 

 

Given what has greater or lesser significance, it turns out that working for virtue is far more efficient than working for gratification. 

 

In the end, Stoicism will get the job done quite admirably, as long as I understand what the job actually is, and as long I don’t feel the need to draw attention to myself while doing the work. 

Stoic Snippets 56

In the morning when you rise unwillingly, let this thought be present—I am rising to the work of a human being. 

Why then am I dissatisfied if I am going to do the things for which I exist and for which I was brought into the world? Or have I been made for this, to lie in the bedclothes and keep myself warm?

—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 5.1

Fortune

Albrecht Dürer, Fortune (1495)

Tidbits from Montaigne 23

A true prayer and religious reconciling of ourselves to Almighty God cannot enter into an impure soul, subject at the very time to the dominion of Satan. 

He who calls God to his assistance while in a course of vice, does as if a cutpurse should call a magistrate to help him, or like those who introduce the name of God to the attestation of a lie.

—Michel de Montaigne, Essays 1.56

Musonius Rufus, Fragments 50

"Musonius," Herodes said, "ordered a thousand sesterces to be given to a beggar of this sort who was pretending to be a philosopher, and when several people told him that the rascal was a bad and vicious fellow, deserving of nothing good, Musonius, they say, answered with a smile, 'Well then he deserves the money.'"

 

Most everyone, except perhaps the most uptight fellow, will laugh at the joke, and yet most everyone will then also brush aside the uncomfortable truth behind it. I would propose that what is humorous is not merely the nonsensical, but rather a caricature of something that is quite profoundly sensible. 

 

For the Stoic, money, like any other external circumstance, is in and of itself an indifferent; it only becomes good or bad by how we choose to use it. It is easy for me to condemn rich people in general, and to ridicule the faux philosopher in particular, and yet the problem is not the presence or absence of wealth at all, but the deeper attitude within us that riches are somehow important for their own sake. 

 

The crafty beggar is actually being punished by receiving the donation, because all he will do with it is feed his own vices. In this sense, he deserves everything he gets, just as we all ultimately deserve everything we get. Whatever comes to us will be transformed, for right or for wrong, by the content of our character; the blessings and the curses are in the thinking. 

 

Yes, the joke is on the greedy and shifty man, and yet I wonder if the joke is also on me. Like so many other people, I find the story funny, and I do feel a bit satisfied to see the charlatan gets what’s coming to him. Nevertheless, shouldn’t I be looking back at the merit of my own judgments, instead of pointing a finger at someone else’s? 

 

If I take the time to be honest with myself, I might discover that my attitude is not all that much better. I may at first agree with those who complained about the gift, but that falsely comes from thinking that the money is like a reward. I may then seem to agree with Musonius in letting him keep it, but that falsely comes from thinking that the money is like a punishment. 

 

But it is neither a reward nor a punishment, is it? I am still giving it some inherent value. I am still stuck in the assumption that prosperity or poverty make or break our lives, and they really do nothing of the sort; it is virtue or vice that make or break our lives. 

 

I should also laugh at myself here, since I am also making possessions so significant. Stoicism will dig much deeper than I expect. 

Epictetus, Golden Sayings 135

Reflect that the chief source of all evils to Man, and of baseness and cowardice, is not death, but the fear of death

Against this fear then, I pray you, harden yourself; to this let all your reasonings, your exercises, your reading tend. Then shall you know that thus alone are men set free.

Dhammapada 104, 105

One's own self conquered is better than all other people; not even a god, a Gandharva, not Mara with Brahma could change into defeat the victory of a man who has vanquished himself, and always lives under restraint.

Musonius Rufus, Fragments 49

We have it on good authority that Musonius the philosopher in his discourses was accustomed to deprecate and repress applause on the part of his auditors. 

 

"When a philosopher," he said, "is exhorting, persuading, rebuking, or discussing some aspect of philosophy, if the audience pour forth trite and commonplace words of praise in their enthusiasm and unrestraint, if they even shout, if they gesticulate, if they are moved and aroused, and swayed by the charm of his words, by the rhythm of his phrases, and by certain rhetorical repetitions, then you may know that both the speaker and his audience are wasting their time, and that they are not hearing a philosopher speaking but a flute player performing.”

 

 “The mind," he said, "of a man who is listening to a philosopher, if the things which are said are useful and helpful and furnish remedies for faults and errors, has no leisure and time for profuse and extravagant praise. The hearer, whoever he may be, unless he has completely lost his moral sense, in listening to the philosopher's words must shudder and feel secretly ashamed and repentant, and again experience joy and wonder and even have varying facial expressions and changes of feeling as the philosopher's speech affects him and touches his recognition of that part of his soul which is sound and that which is sick.”

 

Moreover, he used to say that great applause and admiration are to be sure not unrelated, but that the greatest admiration yields silence rather than words. For that reason he said the wisest of poets does not have those who listened to Ulysses relating the wonderful tale of his hardships leap up and shout and cry out their approval when he finished speaking, but he says that all kept silent as if struck dumb and senseless because the pleasure they had in hearing him affected their power of speech. 

 

"Thus he spoke; but they all were hushed and silent, and were held spellbound throughout the shadowy halls."

 

I understand that our modes of expression are shaped by our cultures, as well as being specific to our individual dispositions, and so it is important to put such things in perspective. Nevertheless, words and actions that only serve our diversions and vanities are reflections of shallow and confused souls. Empty speech, empty minds. 

 

Far too often, making more noise is a way to avoid honest reflection, and putting on a frantic act becomes a substitute for sincerity. All the hooting and the hollering, the clapping and the stomping, the flowery words and extravagant gestures are like the nervous fidgeting of a man who doesn’t know what to do with his hands. 

 

People will often apologize when they are at a loss for words, worried that they are expected to have a speech ready to hand. “I don’t know what to say!”

 

You don’t need to say anything at all. Your silence can speak volumes. The feelings on your face are unfiltered and genuine. You are paying the greatest compliment in simply showing that you are shaken to the core. 

 

Silence is the perfectest herald of joy. I were but little happy if I could say how much.

The Choice of Hercules 3

 

Paolo Di Matteis, The Choice of Hercules (1712)

Sayings of Ramakrishna 66

A perfect man is like a lotus leaf in the water or like a mudfish in the marsh. Neither of these is polluted by the element in which it lives.

Musonius Rufus, Fragments 48

Rufus used to say, "If you have time to waste praising me, I am conscious that what I say is worth nothing." 

 

So far from applause on our part, he spoke in such a way that each of us sitting there felt that someone had gone to him and told him our faults, so accurately he touched upon our true characters, so effectively he placed each one's faults before his eyes.

 

I long felt uncomfortable with the amount of showmanship I saw in education, and I assumed that this was due only to my own stuffiness. Yes, there have been many times when I was foolishly being dour, and yet it took me a while to also see that some people were really just interested in appearing impressive. 

 

A preoccupation with heaping praises and basking in the spotlight will make the admirer ingratiating, and the admired conceited. It begins with a fawning introduction, and ends with rapturous applause, regardless of the quality of what happens in the middle. There is some confusion about the distinction between what is enlightening and what is entertaining. 

 

If I look back carefully, I recall that the times I have been most moved by a speaker have almost always ended in my silence, not in my cheering. I may not, in fact, even be “feeling good” about myself at all, the goal of so much processed pablum, but rather feeling deeply self-conscious of my own urgent need to make myself better. 

 

The thrill of the impassioned crowd fades quickly, while the power of a soul-wrenching insight sticks to the ribs. 

 

Yes, I am probably sounding like a curmudgeon again, but I find that the best teaching will not stroke my ego at all, but rather poke holes in it. I need to be broken down before I can be built back up. 

Stoic Snippets 55

Always run to the short way; and the short way is the natural: accordingly say and do everything in conformity with the soundest reason. 

For such a purpose frees a man from trouble, and warfare, and all artifice and ostentatious display.

—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 4.51

Aesop's Fables 35

The Lion and the Statue

A Man and a Lion were discussing the relative strength of men and lions in general. The Man contended that he and his fellows were stronger than lions by reason of their greater intelligence. 

"Come now with me," he cried, "and I will soon prove that I am right."

So he took him into the public gardens and showed him a statue of Hercules overcoming the Lion and tearing his mouth in two.

"That is all very well," said the Lion, "but proves nothing, for it was a man who made the statue." 

We can easily represent things as we wish them to be.