It all comes around . . .

 

Epictetus, Golden Sayings 146

If you have put malice and evil speaking from you, altogether, or in some degree: if you have put away from you rashness, foulness of tongue, intemperance, sluggishness: if you are not moved by what once moved you, or in like manner as you once were moved—then you may celebrate a daily festival, today because you have done well in this manner, tomorrow in that. How much greater cause is here for offering sacrifice, than if a man should become Consul or Prefect?

IMAGE: Marcus Aurelius sacrificing at the Temple of Jupiter

Dhammapada 157

If a man hold himself dear, let him watch himself carefully; during one at least out of the three watches a wise man should be watchful.

Epictetus, Discourses 1.11.7

What reason had you then? Was there nothing which moved and impelled you to abandon the child? How is that possible? It must have been the same sort of motive, which once made a man in Rome cover his eyes when the horse he had backed was running, and then again when the horse unexpectedly won made him faint so that he needed sponges to recover him. 

 

What is the motive? This perhaps is not the moment to define it; but it is enough that we should be convinced of this —if what philosophers say is sound—that we must not look for it somewhere outside us, but that it is always one and the same motive which causes us to do or not to do a thing, to speak or not to speak, to be elated or depressed, to fly or to pursue—the very motive which has moved you and me at this moment, you to come and sit and listen to me, and me to say what I do. 

 

What is the motive? Surely it is nothing but this—that we are so minded?

 

“Nothing else.”

 

There are the times when I feel like I can’t keep my eyes off something, and then there are the times when I feel like I have to look away. I may believe that my gaze is being forced this way or that, as if the object itself is exerting a force over me, and yet I know full well that the decision to stare or turn my head is really coming from my own inner workings. 

 

There is an attic window in an old Victorian house near where I grew up, and I glance up at it whenever I walk or ride by, since I still have fond memories of a group of friends who spent hours and hours right there, solving all the world’s problems. There is a street near where I went to college, and I take circuitous routes to avoid seeing it, since I still have painful memories of someone I miss dreadfully. 

 

The house and the street aren’t doing that to me, and not even those ghosts from my past are doing that to me. I am doing that to myself, on account of what I have chosen to value. If I did not first deeply care about something attached to those locations, they would have no effect on me at all.

 

The Roman didn’t faint at the sight of a race in which he didn’t have a stake, and I never laugh or cry at anything I have not determined to give a meaning for myself. It matters to me for no other reason than that I put it in my mind to matter.

 

Yes, it may hurt, and so I assume that the hurt is making me run away. Yes, it may gratify, and so I assume that the gratification is drawing me in. Let me be careful. 

 

First, I am in charge of whether I pick a pleasure over a pain, as anyone who has ever made the conscious choice to bear a suffering for a greater good can understand. Second, I am further in charge of something far more fundamental, my very estimation of what constitutes the good and the bad to begin with. 

 

We are often inclined, perhaps because it seems easier, perhaps because it saves us the weight of responsibility, to claim that the circumstances make us do things. The Stoic knows, rather, that the circumstances give us the conditions under which we do such things, while they never coerce us into anything at all. It may have come from a flawed judgment, or from a healthy judgment, but it nonetheless came from a judgment. 

 

To channel a bit of Aristotle here, I should not confuse a material cause with an efficient cause, the opportunity with the agent. Look inside to make sense of what is going on outside. My thoughts, words, and deeds come back to the same source—how was I minded about these things? 

Written in 12/2000

The Feast of St. Michael

 

Names mean things.

Michael is my middle name, and my father's first name. The name was chosen because it reflected a history, not because it "sounded cool."

A Jesuit once told me: "When parents name their children after gimmicks instead of saints, you know which way the wind is blowing."

Michael? The archangel who defends us all? 

Nah. How about Byron, or Bryon, or maybe even Brydon? Which sounds the sexiest? 

September 29 is the Feast Day of Saint Michael the Archangel. 

Saint Michael the Archangel, defend us in battle. Be our protection against the wickedness and snares of the devil; May God rebuke him, we humbly pray; And do thou, O Prince of the Heavenly Host, by the power of God, thrust into hell Satan and all evil spirits who wander through the world for the ruin of souls.

Albrecht Dürer, Saint Michael Fighting the Dragon (c. 1498)

William Blake, The Angel Michael Binding Satan (c. 1805)

Gustave Moreau, Saint Michael Vanquishing Satan (1882)

The Choice of Hercules 12

 

Lucas Cranach, The Choice of Hercules (c. 1540)

Sayings of Publilius Syrus 18

Do not find your happiness in another's sorrow.

Epictetus, Discourses 1.11.6

Tell me, would you have liked, if you were ill, your relations and everyone else, even your wife and children, to show their affection for you in such a way as to leave you alone and desolate?

 

“Certainly not.”

 

Would you pray to be so loved by your own people, as to be always left alone by them when you were ill, because of their exceeding affection, or would you, if it were a question of being left alone, rather pray, supposing that were possible, to have the affection of your enemies? And if that is so, we are forced to the conclusion that your conduct was not that of affection.

 

Epictetus here arrives at something akin to the Golden Rule, which has its noble name for a very good reason. Whatever the time or the place, in any culture or tradition, those who genuinely reflect upon human nature will discover that each and every person shares in the same fundamental dignity, and that doing good for oneself must always be joined to doing good for another. 

 

The preferences and the circumstances may be different, yet in the end, a sincere man cannot help but recognize himself when he looks at his neighbor. We all have a common identity, defined by a mind that is made to understand what is true, and a will that is made to love what is good, from which we must learn that we are all made for one another. 

 

Such a principle is not the result of convenience or convention, arising instead from the order of Nature itself. That is why the Stoic, the Christian, the Hindu, the Buddhist, or the humanist can arrive at precisely the same conclusion. 

 

The official may have felt affection for his daughter, though he was certainly not putting it into practice. I can only imagine that his concern for his own feelings was overpowering any feelings he had for her, so that while he thought of his own comfort, her comfort did not enter his mind. He did not make that crucial connection, that helping her cope with her pain was just as important as coping with his own. 

 

When the lost love of my life begged me to stop smoking, it did not occur to her that she shouldn’t actually start smoking when I wasn’t around. When I picked up the cigarettes again, just to spite her, it did not occur to me that my malice had made my whole promise to her worthless. 

 

When she later asked me to love her without condition, it did not occur to her that she should avoid hooking up with different men. When I unleashed my nasty temper at her, it did not occur to me that this was not the love that she had asked for. 

 

While we are all prone to terrible errors of judgment, no one, absolutely no one, wishes to be abused, or to be treated as a mere object of utility and pleasure. We rightly ask to be respected. 

 

If I am expecting to receive such respect, why am I hesitant to provide it? I am the other, and the other is me. Right reason tells us this, and the willing heart follows through. 

Written in 12/2000

Aesop's Fables 44

The Young Thief and His Mother

A young man had been caught in a daring act of theft and had been condemned to be executed for it. He expressed his desire to see his Mother, and to speak with her before he was led to execution, and of course this was granted. 

When his Mother came to him he said: "I want to whisper to you," and when she brought her ear near him, he nearly bit it off. 

All the bystanders were horrified, and asked him what he could mean by such brutal and inhuman conduct. 

"It is to punish her," he said. "When I was young I began with stealing little things, and brought them home to Mother. Instead of rebuking and punishing me, she laughed and said: 'It will not be noticed.' It is because of her that I am here today."

"He is right, woman," said the Priest; "the Lord hath said:"

"Train up a child in the way he should go; and when he is old he will not depart therefrom."

Sayings of Ramakrishna 114

He is truly a pious man who is dead even in life, that is, whose passions and desires have been all destroyed as in a dead body.

Epictetus, Discourses 1.11.5

Mark what follows. I do not think you will deny that it is not reasonable to leave one's child when it is ill and to go away. The only question left for us is to consider whether it is affectionate.

 

“Let us consider it then.”

 

Was it right, I ask, for you, being affectionately disposed to your child, to run away and leave her? Is her mother not fond of the child?

 

“She is indeed.”

 

Should the mother then have left her too, or should she not?

 

“She should not.”

 

What of the nurse? Is she fond of the child?

 

“She is,” he said.

 

Ought she then to have left her?

 

“By no means.”

 

Again, is not the child's attendant fond of her?

 

“He is.”

 

Ought he then to have gone away and left her? Was it right that as a consequence the child should be thus left desolate and helpless because of the great affection of you its parents and of those about it, or should die in the hands of those who had no love or care for it?

 

“Heaven forbid!”

 

Once more, it is not fair or reasonable, is it, that a man should not allow others equally affectionate with himself to do what, because he is affectionate, he thinks proper for himself. It is absurd. 

 

However I might feel, and whatever I might choose to do, the right act will always be an act according to reason, not because morality is merely cerebral, but because it is only possibly for me to do what is good if I first understand why it is good. It is my thoughts that give meaning to my passions, and it is my awareness that informs my deeds with purpose. 

 

It is a surefire sign that I am straying from the good when I treat it in an inconsistent and contradictory manner, where the principle is compromised for the sake of convenience. I remain confident that other people should act with care and concern, and yet I simultaneously consider myself exempt from acting with the very same care and concern. That man over there should surely do it, but because I believe that I am special, the responsibility does not apply to me. 

 

And so it is, that just as all virtue proceeds out of wisdom, so all vice proceeds out of ignorance. Where sound judgment is lacking, there can never be any good living. 

 

Hence the official finds it obvious that a mother, or a nurse, or a servant should express their affection by being present, though he can apparently express his affection by being absent. His choices have become crooked, since he isn’t thinking straight. 

 

Many instances come to mind where others have used such a double standard around me, yet casting blame has a way of feeding my resentment. No, let me look within myself for an example of wanting to have it both ways. 

 

From an early age, I would distance myself from people whenever I was feeling fearful or insecure. This could take the form of averting my eyes, or refusing to engage in conversation, or crawling off into a corner with a book. 

 

It became quite the habit, and while I figured I was just protecting myself from injury and pain, there was a part of me that wanted someone to come after me, to seek me out, to prove me wrong in thinking that there were no kind and decent folks. If they didn’t do so, it gave me an excuse to be bitter. 

 

With that sort of a temperament, you’d think I would have been far more sensitive to other people calling for help, and yet I still cringe at the memory of the times I walked away when someone else was clearly reaching out. My motive throughout was somehow keeping myself safe and secure, even as it expressed itself in a glaring contradiction: I expected everyone to take a risk in being kind, except myself. 

 

To pass the buck, to lay the responsibility for compassion on another, is a symptom of being focused on the getting instead of the giving. There is no virtue in it, for there is no wisdom in it. 

Written in 12/2000

  

Stoic Snippets 102

Adapt yourself to the things with which your lot has been cast: and the men among whom you have received your portion, love them, but do it truly.

—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 6.39

Abandoned Places 23

Nature 25

Stockdale on Stoicism 12

So I took those core thoughts into prison. I also remembered a lot of attitude-shaping remarks from the Enchiridion on how not to kid yourself into thinking that you can somehow stand aloof, be an "observer of the passing scene," aloof from the prisoner underground organization.

Enchiridion: "Remember that you are an actor in a drama of such sort as the Author chooses: if short, then in a short one; if long, then in a long one. If it be His pleasure that you should enact a poor man, or a cripple, or a ruler, or a private citizen, see that you act it well. For this is your business, to act well the given part. But to choose it belongs to Another."

The capital A's on Author and Another are Stoic code markings for "another name for God." Our minds are part of the Divine Mind of God; it is like a flame, and individual consciousnesses are sparks in it. Conversely, we are fragments of God; each one of us has within us a part of Him. We're part of God and he's part of us.

—from James B. Stockdale, The Stoic Warrior’s Triad

Dhammapada 156

Men who have not observed proper discipline, and have not gained treasure in their youth, lie, like broken bows, sighing after the past.

Epictetus, Discourses 1.11.4

For the present I can help you just so far as this in regard to what you wish: do you think family affection is natural and good? 

 

“Of course.”

 

Again, is it true that affection is natural and good, and reason not good?

 

“Certainly not.”

 

Is there a conflict then between reason and affection?

 

“I think not.”

 

If there were a conflict, then, as one of the two is natural, the other must needs be unnatural?

 

“Certainly,” he said.

 

It follows then that whenever we find reason and affection united in an action, we confidently affirm that it is right and good.

 

“Granted,” he said.

 

It may sound far too obvious to say, but conflict breeds such deep discontent. Now what am I to do about the conflict? I am usually advised, by those who consider themselves experts, to overwhelm the opposition. Where an obstacle stands in the way, force it out of the way. In the most direct of terms, if you don’t like it, destroy it. 

 

Perhaps I am too sentimental, and so I don’t have that instinct to stomp on my neighbor, yet what cuts closest to the bone is the deeper problem of fighting myself. If one part of me says this, and another part says that, am I to kill off the one part at the expense of the other? 

 

An old hippie friend of mine, now long missing in action, used to wonder if it was better to roll over it, or to roll with it. He nodded and grinned when I asked him if he’d stolen that from Lao Tzu, and he told me that no truth can ever be stolen. 

 

Wherever a contradiction is hastily assumed, it is best to take a step back, and to question whether that tension can be resolved into a harmony. I have learned, the hard way, that unclear terms are the first obstacles to understanding, and that false dichotomies follow closely behind. 

 

Let me look at my own inner workings. Must my thinking and my feelings be at war? After all, whole historical movements have been based on the friction between them. 

 

Do you like Classicism or Romanticism?”

 

“Um, both?”

 

“You’re funny! Seriously, which one?”

 

Whenever I believe that my appetites and my intellect are somehow in conflict, I am failing to grasp the nature of either. An emotion, in and of itself, has no meaning or value without the understanding. A thought, in and of itself, has no reference or context without the passions. 

 

The whole of Nature works together, and so it should come as no surprise that the bits of my own nature are made to work together. 

 

Yes, affection is good, though the goodness becomes apparent through the act of reason. Yes, reason is good, though it will hardly matter if it does not express itself in the act of affection. 

 

If my affection appears to contradict my reason, that is a result of a failure in my very reasoning. The feeling does indeed “say” something, but its significance is only possible through my comprehension.

Written in 12/2000

Sayings of Publilius Syrus 17

Every one excels in something in which another fails.

Thomas a Kempis, The Imitation of Christ 3.36

Against vain judgments of men

1. "My Son, anchor your soul firmly upon God, and fear not man's judgment, when conscience pronounces you pious and innocent. It is good and blessed thus to suffer; nor will it be grievous to the heart which is humble, and which trusts in God more than in itself. Many men have many opinions, and therefore little trust is to be placed in them. But moreover it is impossible to please all. Although Paul studied to please all men in the Lord, and to become all things to all men, yet nevertheless with him it was a very small thing that he should be judged by man's judgment. 

2. "He labored abundantly, as much as in him lay, for the building up and the salvation of others; but he could not avoid being sometimes judged and despised by others. Therefore he committed all to God, who knew all, and by patience and humility defended himself against evil speakers, or foolish and false thinkers, and those who accused him according to their pleasure. Nevertheless, from time to time he replied, lest his silence should become a stumbling block to those who were weak.

3. "Who are you, that you should be afraid of a man that shall die? Today he is, and tomorrow his place is not found. Fear God and you shall not quail before the terrors of men. What can any man do against you by words or deeds? He hurts himself more than you, nor shall he escape the judgment of God, whosoever he may be. Have you God before your eyes, and do not contend with fretful words. And if for the present you seem to give way, and to suffer confusion which you have not deserved, be not angry at this, nor by impatience diminish your reward; but rather look up to Me in heaven, for I am able to deliver you from all confusion and hurt, and to render to every man according to his works."

IMAGE: Rembrandt, The Apostle Paul (c. 1657)

Epictetus, Discourses 1.11.3

Tell me now, is everything right which seems noble and fitting to certain people? Today, for instance, are the opinions of Jews and Syrians, Egyptians and Romans, as to food all of them right?

 

“How can they be?”

 

No, I suppose if the Egyptians' views are right the other nations' must of necessity be wrong; if the Jews' opinions are good, other people's must be bad.

 

“Of course.”

 

And where there is ignorance, there is also want of insight and education as to necessary things.

 

“Yes.”

 

When once you have realized this, then, said Epictetus, you will make this your one interest in the future, and to this alone devote your mind—to discover the means of judging what is natural and to use your criterion to distinguish each particular case as it arises.

 

I deal with dozens of standards every day, many of them rather precise and elaborate, and yet I don’t attend nearly enough to the most important standard of all, on how to be a thoughtful and decent human being. 

 

That sort of neglect on my part will inevitably bring me confusion and misery. 

 

Sometimes we get tied up in knots, unsure of how to find a highest measure by which to direct our lives. Some things are matters of individual preference, and others are expressions of social convention, but what is necessary above and beyond any of these is a universal comprehension of our human nature, and how it is joined to the order in all of Nature. 

 

There is little use in mucking about with the many details if I don’t already have a plan in mind. The effects will only make sense through an awareness of the causes, and the circumstances are only given direction by understanding the first principles. 

 

This will, at first, feel incredibly frustrating, since I don’t know quite where to begin, but I can be encouraged by the fact that any new endeavor is initially intimidating. I struggled with learning my letters, and riding a bicycle, and solving quadratic equations, though I somehow managed, with time and effort. 

 

All the more important, then, to get started early, and to make the pursuit of a human calling my primary commitment. It will be a lifelong vocation, as I will never stop discovering something new. 

 

On a more manageable scale, for example, I could think about how to eat well. My tastes may incline me in one way, and tradition may point me in another, but if I am going to do more than just be led about by passion or custom, I will be well advised to learn something about what sort of foods are best for the health and strength of my body. It would be very foolish to say that it’s all the same, that any old diet will do. 

 

Is not the health and the strength of the soul even more important than that of the body, as the greater demands more attention than the lesser? No bone, muscle, or sinew will be of help without a sound sense of judgment. 

 

Relativism is the usual refuge of those who are afraid of responsibility. Heaven knows, whenever I dread being wrong, I am tempted to insist that there can be no right. If I take a calm moment to be honest with myself, however, I see that I am assuming my ignorance is invincible. I forget that I was given the power of reason to find my way. 

Written in 12/2000

Hans Holbein, The Dance of Death 34: The Countess

 

Sayings of Ramakrishna 113

It is the nature of the winnowing basket to reject the bad and keep the good; even such is the case with pious men.

Epictetus, Discourses 1.11.2

Prove to me then how it is natural.

 

“I cannot, “he said, “rather do you prove to me how it is wrong or unnatural.”

 

He answered, suppose we were discussing black and white, what test should we call in to distinguish between them?

 

“The sight,” he said.

 

What if we were discussing things hot or cold, hard and soft, what test should we use?

 

“Touch.”

 

Well then, as we are discussing what is natural and right and the opposite, what test would you have us take?

 

“I do not know,” said he.

 

Look here, it is no great loss perhaps not to know the proper test for colors and smells, nay, and flavors too, but do you think it is a small loss to man not to know what is good and what is evil, what is natural and what is unnatural?

 

“No, the greatest possible loss.”

 

“After all, it’s only natural . . .”

 

“Hey, I’m only human!”

 

A little bell rings my head when I hear such phrases. They may sound so innocuous at first, and yet I can’t help but notice how often they are used to casually brush aside accountability. It is just a small step to saying, “I couldn’t help myself.”

 

It may be natural to feel fear, or to fall into an honest mistake; yet will it be natural to lie for convenience, or to cheat on my wife? There is a line here between what is bound to happen, and what I myself have decided to do. This was not always so clear to me before I looked at the world with Stoic eyes.

 

I understand that people will run away when they are hurt, having done it myself, while I also keep in mind that this does not necessarily make fleeing the natural thing to do, and therefore the right thing to do. The passions are conditions we work with, not the masters of our choices. 

 

The official is confused about the way he responded to his daughter’s sickness. How is he to react, when his emotions are pushing him in all sorts of conflicting directions? He took those impressions merely at face value, not reflecting upon their purpose, and right there is the missing piece. 

 

Our nature provides us with all sorts of faculties to regard our world, The five senses allow us to perceive various qualities of matter, or the memory and imagination allow us to retain and combine these impressions, and we can become rather skilled at training such powers. We correctly admire the man with a sharp eye, or an attuned ear, or a quick inventiveness. 

 

And while such abilities help us to describe things, they are unable to understand things. They do not get beyond the appearances to the content, and so they offer us no guidance about what is true and false, right and wrong.

 

For this our human nature was given an intellect, by which to comprehend, and a will, by which to choose. I can stare at something all I want, and I will find no answers there; it is when the mind goes to work that the meaning and the value can finally be revealed. 

 

The official was doing a lot of feeling, but not very much thinking. He recognized the importance of the senses, even as he drew a blank on the need for contemplation. What could be more critical, however, than the ability to distinguish at the level of identity, to arrive at that which stands behind all appearances? Only then is someone truly aware and truly free. 

 

I find this to be a common problem for many of us, where we settle for the outside without exploring on the inside, and so we become competent at particular skills, while we remain quite clueless at the whole art of living itself. 

 

Do you know how to drive a car, and pay your taxes, and file the right forms for the boss, and give an impressive presentation at the departmental meeting?

 

“Yes, I’d like to think I’m good at those things.”

 

Now what about knowing how to love a friend without conditions, or grasping why you should speak with absolute honesty, or judging when things are good, bad, or merely indifferent? 

 

“I don’t know what you mean. I’m not sure anyone can do all that.”

 

I know I’m in trouble when my answers start sounding like that. 

Written in 12/2000

Stoic Snippets 101

He who has seen present things has seen all, both everything which has taken place from all eternity and everything which will be for time without end; for all things are of one kin and of one form.

—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 6.37

Ellis Walker, Epictetus in Poetical Paraphrase 18

XVIII.

If thou desir'st thy children, friends or wife
Should never die, but share immortal life
With the blest Gods, 'tis perfect lunacy;
Bedlam hath many a wiser man than thee:
A doctor and dark room may do thee good;
Take physick, I advise thee, and let blood.
Will nothing but impossibles go down?
Thou wishest that what's not in thy pow'r, may own
Subjection to thy will, and would'st confine
What's in another's pow'r to be in thine.
Thus if thou wish thy son may blameless be,
Though he hath rak'd the sink of infamy,
'Tis a return of thy infirmity;
A spice of madness still: As well you might
With vice were virtue, with that black were white,
"Is wishing then deny'd? And must our mind
To the dull present only be confin'd?"
No, doubtless you may wish; nor need you fear
Defeat, provide you wish within your sphere.

Dhammapada 155

Men who have not observed proper discipline, and have not gained treasure in their youth, perish like old herons in a lake without fish.