Sayings of Ramakrishna 136

There are three kinds of dolls: the first made of salt, the second made of cloth, and the third made of stone. 

If these dolls are immersed in water, the first will get dissolved and lose its form, the second will absorb a large quantity of water but retain its form, while the third will be impervious to the water. 

The first doll represents the man who merges his self in the Universal and All-pervading Self and becomes one with it, that is the "Mukta Purusha"; the second represents a true lover or Bhakta, who is full of Divine bliss and knowledge; and the third represents a worldly man, who will not absorb the least drop of true knowledge. 

IMAGES: Maia Walczak

Ellis Walker, Epictetus in Poetical Paraphrase 23

XXIII. 

The direful raven's, or the night-owl's voice,
Frightens the neighbourhood with boding noise;
While each believes the knowing bird portends
Sure death, or to himself, or to his friends;
Thou all that the nocturnal prophet knows,
Is want of food, which he by whooting shows.
But say this oracle with wings and beak,
As certain truths as Delphic priestess speak,
And that through prejudice you should suppose
This boder could futurity disclose,
Yet be not mov'd; distinguish thus, I'm free,
"These omens threaten something else, not me:
Some danger to my body, goods, or name,
My children, or my wife, they may proclaim;
But these are but the appendixes of me,
To me these tokens all auspicious be,
Since I from outward accidents like these,

May reap much real profit, if I please." 

Epictetus, Discourses 1.16.3

Come, let us leave the chief works of Nature, and behold what she works by the way. 

 

Is anything more useless than the hairs upon the chin? Did she not use even these in the most suitable way she could? Did she not by these means distinguish male and female? Does not the nature of each one of us cry aloud from afar, “I am a man: on these terms approach me and address me; seek nothing else. Behold the signs.” 

 

Again, in women nature took the hair from their face, even as she mingled in their voice a softer note. 

 

What! You say the creature ought to have been left undistinguished and each of us to have proclaimed, “I am a man?” 

 

No, but how noble and comely and dignified is this sign, how much more fair than the cock's crest, how much more magnificent than the lion's mane! 

 

Therefore, we ought to preserve the signs God has given; we ought not to abandon them, nor, so far as in us lies, to confound the sexes which have been distinguished. 

—from Epictetus, Discourses 1.16

 

Even those aspects of life we might consider to be trivial will reveal the presence of an implicit meaning and purpose. Why do the cock and the hen differ in their appearance? Does the lion’s mane grant him any benefits? Should the doe count her blessings that she need not wield those ungainly antlers? It may initially seem quite foolish, but Nature does not act in vain. 

 

I knew a fellow in college who complained bitterly about having to shave every morning. He was the sort who had trouble getting out of bed, and so he usually showed up late for class or work with awkward tufts of hair all over his face. His father berated him for looking like a slob, and he was sure he had once botched a job interview on account of his untidy appearance. He couldn’t even manage the effort of grooming some classic 1980’s designer stubble. 

 

I first suggested the admittedly old-fashioned ritual of shaving with a straight razor to put some class into his routine, but it didn’t fit with his laid-back personality. His frustrations only increased. 

 

“What the hell is the point of it? A beard is just some stupid evolutionary mistake! Isn’t there a pill I can take to make it go away?”

 

Or, I next proposed, he might consider actually growing the beard out, and making the most of it. The trimming could be done quickly at any time of the day, and he could then feel like he was proudly wearing a badge of his manhood. Why not use it in the way it was intended? 

 

I will always remember the priceless look on his face as he put two and two together, and it dawned on him that his facial hair was far more than a biological inconvenience or a matter of fashion. There was a method to the madness—it identified him for who and what he was. We had a good laugh together. 

 

I can hardly point any fingers, for there was a time when I badly injured my thumb, and I lost most of my thumbnail. I had often wondered what fingernails were there for, since I couldn’t do much with them besides scratch a pesky itch. It grew back very slowly, while in the meantime I learned how much I had relied on it as a protection from rather painful impacts with everyday items. I will no longer question the nails. 

 

A few years later, I singed off my eyebrows at a campfire, much to everyone’s amusement, and I assumed I would now only look the fool for a time. The next day, in sweltering heat, I realized what my eyebrows were meant to do, as the sweat rolled right down into my eyes. I now toss in the log from much further away. 

 

If Nature put it there, it is there for a good reason. Perhaps it is not immediately apparent to me, or I feel it is inconvenient for the moment, yet it is nonetheless a product of artful conception, delicately arranged by Providence. 

—Reflection written in 1/2001

An Allegory of Fortune

Abraham Janssens the Elder, An Allegory of Fortune (c. 1610)

Stoic Snippets 124

The Universal Nature out of the Universal Substance, as if it were wax, now molds a horse, and when it has broken this up, it uses the material for a tree, then for a man, then for something else; and each of these things subsists for a very short time. 

But it is no hardship for the vessel to be broken up, just as there was none in its being fastened together. 

—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 7.23

 

Vanitas 51

Abraham Janssens the Elder, Vanitas (c. 1615)

Epictetus, Discourses 1.16.2

Yet we forbear to give thanks that we have not to pay the same attention to them as to ourselves, and proceed to complain against God on our own account.

 

 I declare, by Zeus and all the gods, one single fact of Nature would suffice to make him that is reverent and grateful realize the Providence of God: no great matter, I mean; take the mere fact that milk is produced from grass and cheese from milk and wool from skin. Who is it that has created or contrived these things? 

 

“No one,” he says. 

 

Oh, the depth of man's stupidity and shamelessness! 

—from Epictetus, Discourses 1.16

 

When I become obsessed with my own gratification, I grow resentful that the world is not providing me with all the things I arrogantly believe I deserve. 

 

I curse at my neighbor if he does not obey my every whim, and I shake my fists in protest against the various -isms and -ologies I find so offensive. Most of all, I start blaming God for the whole setup, and then go so far as to insist that denying the very existence of the Divine will somehow make my problems disappear. 

 

Yet getting red in the face or sticking my head in the sand has never made anything better; I only make myself more miserable. That lesson must be learned, even if it has to be slowly and painfully. I am, once again, confusing what I want with what I need. 

 

Nature, at any given point, offers me everything I require to be happy, and that has hardly come about by accident. If I remain dissatisfied, is it wiser for me to lash out at the circumstances, or to examine what it is I may have misunderstood about myself? 

 

However frightening the situation, I always have the power to seek deeper understanding and to practice greater love—it is never denied me. That is, after all, precisely what I was made for, and I know this by gazing directly into my human identity, as a creature of reason and of will. 

 

Beyond the goods of the soul, the goods of the body are also generously accounted for, such that, as long I pursue temperance and limit myself to the necessary, I can manage to cover my head and fill my belly through Nature’s bounty. 

 

Even where, from causes beyond my control, I may find myself cold and hungry, my capacity to act with virtue not only remains intact, but is given an even greater opportunity to be exercised in the face of such a challenge. In death, too, which must inevitably come, I can face it with dignity. 

 

That the cow eats the grass, and from it produces the milk, and that I am then permitted to partake of it, and to turn it into a fine wheel of cheese is far more than some lucky hit. Nature unfolds with balance, each creature giving something of itself to every other creature. The pieces fit together for a reason, and rather than being indignant and rejecting these obvious blessings, I am called to be grateful. 

—Reflection written in 1/2001

Inconstancy

Abraham Janssens the Elder, Inconstancy: An Allegory of Fickleness (c. 1617)

Chuang Tzu 2.2

Great knowledge is wide and comprehensive; small knowledge is partial and restricted. Great speech is exact and complete; small speech is merely so much talk. When we sleep, the soul communicates with what is external to us; when we awake, the body is set free. Our intercourse with others then leads to various activity, and daily there is the striving of mind with mind. There are hesitancies; deep difficulties; reservations; small apprehensions causing restless distress, and great apprehensions producing endless fears. 

Where their utterances are like arrows from a bow, we have those who feel it their charge to pronounce what is right and what is wrong; where they are given out like the conditions of a covenant, we have those who maintain their views, determined to overcome. The weakness of their arguments, like the decay of things in autumn and winter, shows the failing of the minds of some from day to day; or it is like their water which, once voided, cannot be gathered up again. Then their ideas seem as if fast bound with cords, showing that the mind is become like an old and dry moat, and that it is nigh to death, and cannot be restored to vigor and brightness. 

Joy and anger, sadness and pleasure, anticipation and regret, fickleness and fixedness, vehemence and indolence, eagerness and tardiness—all these moods, like music from an empty tube, or mushrooms from the warm moisture, day and night succeed to one another and come before us, and we do not know whence they sprout. Let us stop! Let us stop! Can we expect to find out suddenly how they are produced?

If there were not the views of another, I should not have mine; if there were not I with my views, his would be uncalled for—this is nearly a true statement of the case, but we do not know what it is that makes it be so. It might seem as if there would be a true Governor concerned in it, but we do not find any trace of his presence and acting. That such an One could act so I believe; but we do not see His form. He has affections, but He has no form. 

Given the body, with its hundred parts, its nine openings, and its six viscera, all complete in their places, which do I love the most? Do you love them all equally? Or do you love some more than others? Is it not the case that they all perform the part of your servants and waiting women? All of them being such, are they not incompetent to rule one another? Or do they take it in turns to be now ruler and now servants? 

There must be a true Ruler among them, whether by searching you can find out His character or not, there is neither advantage nor hurt, so far as the truth of His operation is concerned. When once we have received the bodily form complete, its parts do not fail to perform their functions till the end comes. In conflict with things or in harmony with them, they pursue their course to the end, with the speed of a galloping horse which cannot be stopped—is it not sad? To be constantly toiling all one's lifetime, without seeing the fruit of one's labor, and to be weary and worn out with his labor, without knowing where he is going to—is it not a deplorable case? 

Men may say, "But it is not death," yet of what advantage is this? When the body is decomposed, the mind will be the same along with it—must not the case be pronounced very deplorable? Is the life of man indeed enveloped in such darkness? Is it I alone to whom it appears so? And does it not appear to be so to other men?

Dhammapada 178

Better than sovereignty over the earth, better than going to heaven, better than lordship over all worlds, is the reward of the first step in holiness. 

Epictetus, Discourses 1.16.1

Chapter 16: On Providence.

 

Marvel not that the other creatures have their bodily needs supplied—not only meat and drink, but a bed to lie on—and that they want no shoes nor rugs nor clothes, while we want all these things. For it would not have been a good thing that these creatures, born not for themselves but for service, should have been created liable to wants. 

 

Consider what it would be for us to have to take thought not only for ourselves but for sheep and asses, how they were to dress and what shoes they were to put on, and how they should find meat and drink. 

 

But just as soldiers when they appear before their general are ready shod, and clothed and armed, and it would be a strange thing indeed if the tribune had to go round and shoe or clothe his regiment, so also Nature has made the creatures that are born for service ready and prepared and able to dispense with any attention. So one small child can drive sheep with a rod. 

—from Epictetus, Discourses 1.16

 

If I find myself beginning to doubt the rule of Providence, it will not be necessary to seek out proof tangled up in a series of syllogisms, or to meditate on any profound and obscure metaphysical concepts. I need simply take the time to look at the natural world around me, and I will be able to directly discern the clear presence of order, planning, and complementarity. 

 

Not only is there an agency by which things come to be and pass away, but creatures possessing life are granted, to varying degrees, a power within themselves to carry out their specific purposes and fulfill their different ends. They possess the capacity to actively care for themselves, instead of merely being passively pushed about. 

 

It is as if the Grand Design plants, so to speak, small snippets of itself inside their lesser designs, all of them working together for the sake of the whole. 

 

I must resist the selfish urge to focus only on my own narrow interests, while neglecting how I have a place in a harmony with everything else around me. A Stoicism without Providence is like a bicycle with only one pedal. Just as something does not come from nothing, so no event can ever rightly be thought of as random, or as existing without an innate intention. 

 

Now the sheep responds through instinct, while the man also has conscious reflection, and yet both of them are made with a built-in disposition. The sheep may be easily frightened, or the man may stubbornly choose to ignore his calling, but they retain an authority over what is distinctly their own. 

 

We all know the sort of people who insist upon doing everything on their own terms, and who refuse to allow others to take care of themselves. Perhaps we may also find ourselves to be prone to such micromanagement, and the solution is to restore some trust in Providence, to rest assured that Nature provides each creature with its own appropriate tools. 

 

As my wife likes to say, “It isn’t always about you. Let go and let God.”

 

I enjoy the example of the soldiers who can maintain their own kits, and who do not need to rely on their commander to get them geared up in the morning. It reminds me of the curse of the “helicopter parents”, now increasingly upgraded to “gunship parents”, I run across in the world of education. They are so committed to the success of their children that they are unwilling to let them find their own way. 

 

Come to accept how each living thing is endowed with an appropriate mastery of its own tasks. You will here recognize the Divine Mind at work. 

—Reflection written in 1/2001

IMAGE: Joseph Schmiedl, Shepherd Boy with Sheep (1900)

The Abbey in the Oakwood

Caspar David Friedrich, The Abbey in the Oakwood (1810)

 

The First Snowfall

"The First Snowfall"

James Russell Lowell (1819-1891)

The snow had begun in the gloaming,
And busily all the night
Had been heaping field and highway
With a silence deep and white.

Every pine and fir and hemlock
Wore ermine too dear for an earl,
And the poorest twig on the elm-tree
Was ridged inch deep with pearl.

From sheds new-roofed with Carrara
Came Chanticleer's muffled crow,
The stiff rails were softened to swan's-down,
And still fluttered down the snow.

I stood and watched by the window
The noiseless work of the sky,
And the sudden flurries of snow-birds,
Like brown leaves whirling by.

I thought of a mound in sweet Auburn
Where a little headstone stood;
How the flakes were folding it gently,
As did robins the babes in the wood.

Up spoke our own little Mabel,
Saying, "Father, who makes it snow?"
And I told of the good All-father
Who cares for us here below.

Again I looked at the snow-fall,
And thought of the leaden sky
That arched o'er our first great sorrow,
When that mound was heaped so high.

I remembered the gradual patience
That fell from that cloud-like snow,
Flake by flake, healing and hiding
The scar of our deep-plunged woe.

And again to the child I whispered,
"The snow that husheth all,
Darling, the merciful Father
Alone can make it fall!"

Then, with eyes that saw not, I kissed her;
And she, kissing back, could not know
That my kiss was given to her sister,
Folded close under deepening snow. 

Little Boy Blue

"Little Boy Blue"

Eugene Field (1850-1895)

The little toy dog is covered with dust,
   But sturdy and staunch he stands;
 And the little toy soldier is red with rust,
   And his musket molds in his hands.
Time was when the little toy dog was new,
   And the soldier was passing fair;
And that was the time when our Little Boy Blue
   Kissed them and put them there.

"Now, don't you go till I come," he said,
   "And don't you make any noise!"
So, toddling off to his trundle-bed,
   He dreamed of the pretty toys;
And, as he was dreaming, an angel song
   Awakened our Little Boy Blue—
Oh! the years are many, the years are long,
   But the little toy friends are true!

Ay, faithful to Little Boy Blue they stand,
   Each in the same old place,
Awaiting the touch of a little hand,
   The smile of a little face.
And they wonder, as waiting the long years through
   In the dust of that little chair,
What has become of our Little Boy Blue,
   Since he kissed them and put them there. 

Sayings of Publilius Syrus 39

Tension weakens the bow; the want of it, the mind. 

Wisdom from the Bhagavad Gita 42

21. Verily, into You enter these hosts of Devas; some extol You in fear with joined palms; "May it be well!" thus saying, bands of great Rishis and Siddhas praise You with splendid hymns. 

22. The Rudras, Adityas, Vasus, Sâdhyas, Vishva-Devas, the two Ashvins, Maruts, Ushmapâs, and hosts of Gandharvas, Yakshas, Asuras, and Siddhas—all these are looking at You, all quite astounded. 

23. Having seen Your immeasurable Form—with many mouths and eyes, O mighty-armed, with many arms, thighs and feet, with many stomachs, and fearful with many tusks—the worlds are terrified, and so am I. 

24. On seeing You touching the sky, shining in many a color, with mouths wide open, with large fiery eyes, I am terrified at heart, and find no courage nor peace, O Vishnu. 

25. Having seen Your mouths, fearful with tusks, blazing like Pralaya-fires, I know not the four quarters, nor do I find peace; have mercy, O Lord of the Devas, O Abode of the Universe. 

26-27. All these sons of Dhritarâshtra, with hosts of monarchs, Bhishma, Drona, and Sutaputra, with the warrior chiefs of ours, enter precipitately into Your mouth, terrible with tusks and fearful to behold. Some are found sticking in the interstices of Your teeth, with their heads crushed to powder. 

28. Verily, as the many torrents of rivers flow towards the ocean, so do these heroes in the world of men enter Your fiercely flaming mouths. 

29. As moths precipitately rush into a blazing fire only to perish, even so do these creatures also precipitately rush into Your mouths only to perish. 

30. Swallowing all the worlds on every side with Your flaming mouths, You are licking Your lips. Your fierce rays, filling the whole world with radiance, are burning, O Vishnu! 

31. Tell me who You are, fierce in form. Salutation to You, O Deva Supreme; have mercy. I desire to know You, O Primeval One. I know not indeed Your purpose.

—Bhagavad Gita, 11:21-31

 

Seneca, Moral Letters 20.7

It is the mark, however, of a noble spirit not to precipitate oneself into such things on the ground that they are better, but to practice for them on the ground that they are thus easy to endure. And they are easy to endure, Lucilius; when, however, you come to them after long rehearsal, they are even pleasant; for they contain a sense of freedom from care—and without this nothing is pleasant.

 

I hold it essential, therefore, to do as I have told you in a letter that great men have often done: to reserve a few days in which we may prepare ourselves for real poverty by means of fancied poverty. 

 

There is all the more reason for doing this, because we have been steeped in luxury and regard all duties as hard and onerous. Rather let the soul be roused from its sleep and be prodded, and let it be reminded that nature has prescribed very little for us. 

 

No man is born rich. Every man, when he first sees light, is commanded to be content with milk and rags. Such is our beginning, and yet kingdoms are all too small for us! Farewell.

—from Seneca, Moral Letters 20

 

Just as I must be wary of falling in love with wealth, I must also resist the temptation to think of poverty as being somehow noble in itself. No happiness can come from playing the melancholic hero, wallowing in his suffering, who finds a morbid satisfaction in being denied what he desires. It is not good to be rich, nor is it good to be poor—it is simply good to be good. 

 

To place fortune at arm’s length is rather a means for making myself more resilient to her infamous slings and arrows. The less I tend to her demands, the more I can tend to my own needs, and as my concern with her caprice decreases, so my commitment to my character increases. 

 

I should love the world and all that is in it, with all of my heart, but let me not permit that love to be twisted into a slavery of lust. My love is defined by what I choose to give, not by what I may receive. 

 

Seneca again recommends the deliberate practice of seeking out occasions to be content with less. Instead of being about putting on a show for others, it serves as a personal commitment to a strengthening of moral habits. Through such preparation, it gradually becomes possible to learn to bear the things that once seemed so unbearable, and then, with even further refinement, to find peace and joy in a liberation from petty attachments and vain diversions. 

 

Even when experienced in only the slightest degree, there is nothing quite like the fulfillment of knowing that I have managed to be my own man, no longer under the thumb of any other or chained to any mercurial conditions. 

 

This serves to counter the destructive notion that what I am obligated to do for others is a tedious chore for me, and that receiving ever-greater profits from the world is somehow my God-given right. My human nature is perfected in the doing, not in the getting, and a wholesome regimen of self-reliance can help me appreciate that fact. 

 

If I strip away all the accessories and cosmetics, there remains a beautiful creature hidden beneath, one blessed with the power to know and to love, requiring little more than the humblest of opportunities to exercise those pure gifts. What more could ever be required? The property adds nothing, the fame adds nothing, the comforts add nothing. I remind myself that I need so very little, even as I foolishly want so very much. 

 

Such words can only have any effect where there is the fortitude to follow through; the only obstacle to doing so is little old me. 

—Reflection written in 9/2012

 

Wisdom from the Early Cynics, Diogenes 2

On reaching Athens Diogenes fell in with Antisthenes. Being repulsed by him, because he never welcomed pupils, by sheer persistence Diogenes wore him out. 

Once when he stretched out his staff against him, the pupil offered his head with the words, "Strike, for you will find no wood hard enough to keep me away from you, so long as I think you've something to say." 

From that time forward he was his pupil, and, exile as he was, set out upon a simple life. 

—Diogenes Laërtius, 6.21

Wisdom from the Early Stoics, Zeno of Citium 42

The followers of Chrysippus, Archedemus, Athenodorus, Antipater and Crinis divide propositions into simple and not simple. 

Simple are those that consist of one or more propositions which are not ambiguous, as "It is day." 

Not simple are those that consist of one or more ambiguous propositions. They may, that is, consist either of a single ambiguous proposition, e.g. "If it is day, it is day," or of more than one proposition, e.g. "If it is day, it is light."

With simple propositions are classed those of negation, denial, privation, affirmation, the definitive and the indefinitive; with those that are not simple the hypothetical, the inferential, the coupled or complex, the disjunctive, the causal, and that which indicates more or less. 

An example of a negative proposition is "It is not day." Of the negative proposition one species is the double negative. By double negative is meant the negation of a negation, e.g. "It is not not-day." Now this presupposes that it is day. 

A denial contains a negative part or particle and a predication: such as this, "No one is walking." 

A privative proposition is one that contains a privative particle reversing the effect of a judgement, as, for example, "This man is unkind." 

An affirmative or assertory proposition is one that consists of a noun in the nominative case and a predicate, as "Dion is walking." 

A definitive proposition is one that consists of a demonstrative in the nominative case and a predicate, as "This man is walking." 

An indefinitive proposition is one that consists of an indefinite word or words and a predicate, e.g. "Some one is walking," or "There's some one walking"; "He is in motion." 

—Diogenes Laërtius, 7.68-70

Sayings of Ramakrishna 135

Keep your own sentiments and faith to yourself. Do not talk about them abroad. Otherwise you will be a great loser. 

Seneca, Moral Letters 20.6

"Yes, but I do not know," you say, "how the man you speak of will endure poverty, if he falls into it suddenly." 

 

Nor do I, Epicurus, know whether the poor man you speak of will despise riches, should he suddenly fall into them; accordingly, in the case of both, it is the mind that must be appraised, and we must investigate whether your man is pleased with his poverty, and whether my man is displeased with his riches. 

 

Otherwise, the cot-bed and the rags are slight proof of his good intentions, if it has not been made clear that the person concerned endures these trials not from necessity but from preference. 

—from Seneca, Moral Letters 20

 

Now the idea may sound good, but how can anyone actually be expected to go through with an indifference to affluence? Once someone gets accustomed to a life of luxury, it will be awfully hard to adapt to a life of austerity. 

 

Will not the reverse, however, also be a challenge? Once someone has only a reference to poverty, the presence of plenty will be quite overwhelming. 

 

I have observed what becomes of people when they experience sudden shifts of fortune, and in almost all cases, with very few exceptions, the pattern has been tragically consistent. I at first saw how the path from riches to rags could be a terrible burden, and yet I then further learned how the path from rags to riches could be equally crippling. In either direction, people were usually knocked down by the transition. 

 

The entitled man suffers when he now loses what he has taken for granted. The struggling man suffers when he now faces the consequences of satisfying his many urges. Folks will fight tooth and nail to become wealthy, and yet they do not grasp how easily it turns into just as much of a curse as being poor. 

 

It doesn’t have to be that way. There is a way out of the dilemma, and it avoids a dependence on fickle circumstances through a fundamental transformation of attitude, where attention is shifted from the state of affairs to a state of mind. 

 

Yes, losing possessions can do harm, and gaining possessions can do harm, but only where an initial judgment has been made, all the way back at the level of founding principles, that life must be measured by externals. 

 

Why was that assumption made? To merely say that everyone else is doing it is not an excuse. How can that assumption possibly be changed? By a critical reflection on what it even means to be human, and a careful deliberation on the reasons why a man’s worth is within the workings of his own soul. If this is rightly understood, then it is within the power of the will to seek out a new set of priorities. 

 

This is why philosophy remains essential to life, for without it we cannot discover our own meaning and purpose. The direction follows from the awareness, such that how we think about our situations is what permits us to master our situations. There is the radical difference between angrily suffering from deprivation and freely choosing to embrace temperance. 

—Reflection written in 9/2012

Fractals 22

Stoic Snippets 123

It is peculiar to man to love even those who do wrong. 

And this happens, if when they do wrong it occurs to you that they are kinsmen, and that they do wrong through ignorance and unintentionally, and that soon both of you will die. 

And above all, that the wrongdoer has done you no harm, for he has not made your ruling faculty worse than it was before. 

—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 7.22

IMAGE: Rembrandt, The Return of the Prodigal Son (c. 1668)