Peace of mind.
Who then makes progress? Is it he who has read many treatises of Chrysippus? Can this be virtue—to have understood Chrysippus?
For if this be so, we must admit that progress is nothing but to understand a lot of sayings of Chrysippus.
But the fact is, we admit that virtue tends to one result, and yet declare that progress, the approach to virtue, tends to another.
It should come as no surprise that living well will lead to being well, and yet the Stoic argument that virtue is the means to happiness will still elicit smirks and frowns. I suspect a part of the problem lies in overlooking the fact that human nature, defined by reason and will, is intrinsically ordered to the exercise of understanding and love. We neglect that necessary connection.
All the other things that surround us can become an assistance or a hindrance to this task, and yet such conditions are themselves foolishly confused with the greater purpose. I think I might become happy by accumulating all sorts of spoils and trophies, and then I worry why peace of mind still remains so elusive.
Beyond the many distractions, it’s all fairly simple: I become happier by becoming better, and I become better by improving my own character. This is the mastery of my own nature, not a subservience to the nature of other things, and it concerns what is within my power, not what lies beyond it. There will be found progress.
“Ah, I see. I should become fluent in all the books about virtue, and then I will become better!”
Be careful; though an academic proficiency can be a help in acquiring wisdom, these are not one and the same thing. Many years of formal study have taught me that there is no real correlation, let alone a causation, between book learning and life learning. That last and most crucial step, that of personal commitment, must still be chosen for its own sake.
Chrysippus, the third head of the Stoic School in Athens, was by all accounts a prolific writer, and yet only small fragments of his work have survived to the present day. I suppose that is itself a wonderfully Stoic lesson, about the transience of worldly things, and yet I can’t help but wish I could read through all of those texts. I ponder how greatly it would assist me in working on all of my weaknesses.
I catch myself. Aren’t Marcus Aurelius, Seneca, Musonius, and Epictetus himself more than enough for me to work with? Yet however much they are of aid, are even these books necessary? Wouldn’t the good example of any thoughtful and decent person be sufficient to nudge me in the right direction?
And that is all it is, the right direction. The sign may point me to a path, but I will be the one who has to tread it.
Progress in scholarship can sometimes accompany an increase in character, and sometimes it can just as easily accompany an increase in wickedness. A mastery of words alone will not provide me with a mastery of my soul.
“Yes, didn’t Ignatz Schmuckenheimer discuss this at length in the third section of his influential work, The Unity of Ontical Consideration? It really only makes sense in the German second edition, unless you want to go all the way back to the handwritten notes in Dutch from his research in Batavia. . . .”
No comments:
Post a Comment