Slave, if you get food, you will have it; if not, you will depart: the door is open.
Why do you whine? What room is there for tears anymore? What occasion for flattery anymore? Why should one envy another? Why should he gaze with wonder on them that are rich or powerful, especially if they be strong and quick to anger?
For what will they do with us? We will pay no heed to what they have power to do, what we really care for they cannot touch. Who, I ask you, will be master over one who is of this spirit?
I have long noted the great divide between what is taught and what ends up being done. My own alma mater would promote itself as a school that built character, and yet the reality was that we were building an empire of wealth and fame.
In public, there was much talk of “Men and women for others.” In private, there was much sniggering about “Men and women for themselves.” Both masters and pupils maintained the façade.
Put it to the test. For all the fine language of principles, observe how much of the time and energy is then spent on gaining status and making money. There is mainly anxiety about getting more, and fear about losing it.
“But we need to make more money so we can do more good things!”
No, you don’t. You can be just as good if you are rich or poor, satisfied or hungry, esteemed or reviled. If you insist on putting on a show or winning a profit while doing something good, it isn’t really the good itself that you are interested in. The scale of degree does not increase the merit of kind.
Would I prefer for my body to be well-fed and comfortable? Would I prefer to be admired and respected? Of course, and if such things are available to me, I would be a fool not to work for them.
If, however, I do not make them completely relative and subservient to first acting with conscience and conviction, I am reversing the means and the ends. No amount of obfuscation will change that. No one is actually fooled, even as most everyone is pretending to be fooled.
When my belly is leading the way, instead of my head, philosophy is reduced to a gimmick. Whatever happens to end up on my plate is far less important than what I choose in my soul. The clock will inevitably run down, but what I do with the minutes is still up to me.
Words like these will understandably make people feel uncomfortable, maybe even offended; I know that my own knee still jerks on most days. The tension comes from wanting to have it both ways, not from the truth of it. Stoicism, like any way of life that cuts to the bone, is perhaps only for those ready to follow Nature with no further qualifications or conditions.
Once I have begun to embrace that choice, however, the resentment is not as biting, the tears don’t sting as much as they used to, and I feel less need to impress anyone or acquire anything.
No comments:
Post a Comment