We must remember this clearly, that man measures his every action by his impressions; of course they may be good or bad: if good, he is free from reproach; if bad, he pays the penalty in his own person, for it is impossible for one to be deluded and another to suffer for it.
The man who remembers this, I say, will be angry with no one, indignant with no one, revile none, blame none, hate none, offend none.
“So you say that deeds so great and awful take their origin from this, the impressions of the mind?”
From this and nothing else. The Iliad is nothing but men's impressions and how they dealt with them.
The man who remembers this, I say, will be angry with no one, indignant with no one, revile none, blame none, hate none, offend none.
“So you say that deeds so great and awful take their origin from this, the impressions of the mind?”
From this and nothing else. The Iliad is nothing but men's impressions and how they dealt with them.
It was impressions that made Paris take away the wife of Menelaus, impressions that drew Helen to follow him. If, then, his impressions had led Menelaus to feel that it was a gain to be robbed of such a wife, what would have happened? We should have lost the Iliad, and not only that but the Odyssey too.
—from Epictetus, Discourses 1.28
Whatever we do, however lofty or base, we do it because we think it to be proper; for better or for worse, we are convinced of it at the time. It is our judgments that are the source of all our actions, and the way we go about estimating meaning and value will determine the place of everything else in our lives.
If I have chosen wisely, then my thoughts and deeds will flow in harmony with Nature. There is the only reward that matters.
If I have chosen foolishly, then I will find myself constantly at war with the world and with myself. There is the only harm that can touch me.
Will I be the master of my impressions, or will I permit my impressions to master me? There is the question upon which my happiness hinges.
Once I recognize the primacy of my convictions, I no longer have to worry about how the circumstances might unfold, and I don’t have to be at the mercy of another’s choices. I might believe he is terribly mistaken, and I may wish to dissuade him from his path, but my neighbor does not control my serenity.
If this is indeed the case, why should I choose resentment, jealousy, or hatred? If he can take nothing that I need, why do I fear him? If he is unable to hurt me in any way that counts, why am I outraged? If he is not responsible for my character, why am I pointing the finger? He is not my enemy, because we are not at odds. The answer is always in bringing order to my thinking.
We feel intimidated by events on a grand scale, overwhelmed by what we think are forces far too powerful for us to handle, and yet all that has ever happened in human affairs is no more than the product of individual judgments. Every matter of politics, of finance, of war and peace is reducible to a decision that arose from a certain point of view.
In this way, what we call human history is the sum of personal attitudes. It goes beyond psychology, which describes patterns of behavior, and derives from philosophy, which explains such behavior within the context of true and false, good and evil, beautiful and ugly.
Do I remain alarmed by how others will manage their impressions? That isn’t meant to be within my power—they have played their parts, and now I offer my own. I must simply remember how the tapestry is woven out of many threads, and each strand has its necessary place. I attend to my own work, and I assist my fellows with their own work wherever I can.
The only way to “change” the whole world is to reshape every private judgment. By admitting the vanity of this, for even God permits His creatures the opportunity to make their own way, I concentrate on changing myself. The big picture is assembled from a glorious abundance of little pictures.
The Iliad is an epic tale, though it really boils down to a collection of intimate choices. Paris perceived his benefit by the satisfaction of his lust. Menelaus perceived his benefit by the pursuit of his jealousy, Had either man arrived at another conclusion, it would be the end of the story, or more correctly it would be a very different story.
Whatever we do, however lofty or base, we do it because we think it to be proper; for better or for worse, we are convinced of it at the time. It is our judgments that are the source of all our actions, and the way we go about estimating meaning and value will determine the place of everything else in our lives.
If I have chosen wisely, then my thoughts and deeds will flow in harmony with Nature. There is the only reward that matters.
If I have chosen foolishly, then I will find myself constantly at war with the world and with myself. There is the only harm that can touch me.
Will I be the master of my impressions, or will I permit my impressions to master me? There is the question upon which my happiness hinges.
Once I recognize the primacy of my convictions, I no longer have to worry about how the circumstances might unfold, and I don’t have to be at the mercy of another’s choices. I might believe he is terribly mistaken, and I may wish to dissuade him from his path, but my neighbor does not control my serenity.
If this is indeed the case, why should I choose resentment, jealousy, or hatred? If he can take nothing that I need, why do I fear him? If he is unable to hurt me in any way that counts, why am I outraged? If he is not responsible for my character, why am I pointing the finger? He is not my enemy, because we are not at odds. The answer is always in bringing order to my thinking.
We feel intimidated by events on a grand scale, overwhelmed by what we think are forces far too powerful for us to handle, and yet all that has ever happened in human affairs is no more than the product of individual judgments. Every matter of politics, of finance, of war and peace is reducible to a decision that arose from a certain point of view.
In this way, what we call human history is the sum of personal attitudes. It goes beyond psychology, which describes patterns of behavior, and derives from philosophy, which explains such behavior within the context of true and false, good and evil, beautiful and ugly.
Do I remain alarmed by how others will manage their impressions? That isn’t meant to be within my power—they have played their parts, and now I offer my own. I must simply remember how the tapestry is woven out of many threads, and each strand has its necessary place. I attend to my own work, and I assist my fellows with their own work wherever I can.
The only way to “change” the whole world is to reshape every private judgment. By admitting the vanity of this, for even God permits His creatures the opportunity to make their own way, I concentrate on changing myself. The big picture is assembled from a glorious abundance of little pictures.
The Iliad is an epic tale, though it really boils down to a collection of intimate choices. Paris perceived his benefit by the satisfaction of his lust. Menelaus perceived his benefit by the pursuit of his jealousy, Had either man arrived at another conclusion, it would be the end of the story, or more correctly it would be a very different story.
—Reflection written in 4/2001
IMAGE: Peter Paul Rubens, The Judgment of Paris (c. 1635)
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