Man's Search for Meaning 1

The reader may ask me why I did not try to escape what was in store for me after Hitler had occupied Austria. Let me answer by recalling the following story. Shortly before the United States entered World War II, I received an invitation to come to the American Consulate in Vienna to pick up my immigration visa. My old parents were overjoyed because they expected that I would soon be allowed to leave Austria. 

I suddenly hesitated, however. The question beset me: could I really afford to leave my parents alone to face their fate, to be sent, sooner or later, to a concentration camp, or even to a so-called extermination camp? Where did my responsibility lie? Should I foster my brain child, logotherapy, by emigrating to fertile soil where I could write my books? Or should I concentrate on my duties as a real child, the child of my parents who had to do whatever he could to protect them? I pondered the problem this way and that but could not arrive at a solution; this was the type of dilemma that made one wish for "a hint from Heaven," as the phrase goes.

It was then that I noticed a piece of marble lying on a table at home. When I asked my father about it, he explained that he had found it on the site where the National Socialists had burned down the largest Viennese synagogue. He had taken the piece home because it was a part of the tablets on which the Ten Commandments were inscribed. One gilded Hebrew letter was engraved on the piece; my father explained that this letter stood for one of the Commandments. Eagerly I asked, "Which one is it?" He answered, "Honor thy father and thy mother that thy days may be long upon the land." At that moment I decided to stay with my father and my mother upon the land, and to let the American visa lapse.

—from Viktor Frankl, Man's Search for Meaning

Howard Jones, Dream into Action 4

It's funny how our own particular perspectives will shape how we read a poem or hear a song,  especially when it turns out the artist was coming from a somewhat different direction. "No One Is to Blame" took on a certain meaning for me when I first heard it, since at the time I found myself struggling with resentments about not getting what I wanted, and so I focused in on the chorus to remind me that finding fault and pointing fingers never solve anything. That remains a lifelong battle for me! 

Years later, I heard Jones explaining the origin of the song, and how it actually arose as a sort of homage to fidelity. We may feel certain attractions or urges, for which we shouldn't blame ourselves, which are distinct from acting on those attractions or urges. 

Indeed, emotions are tricky things, and while my struggle to practice Stoic values has taught me a bit about how to manage and direct my passions, they will often act as if they have a mind of their own. An impressions may come or it may go, but what matters is what I am going to choose to do with it. It's a bit like that old Cherokee story about having two wolves inside of you, and deciding which one you're going to feed. 

After this song was released as a single, Jones was at the height of his popularity in the USA. I have mixed feelings about the re-recording, as I prefer the more sparse and haunting sound of the original album version, and I have always felt that the influence of Phil Collins, though it helped the release in the charts, was a bit of a sellout. But that is just a matter of my preference, and I understand how intensely the studios will pressure an artist to sell a product. 

—5/2007 

A few words of commentary from Howard Jones: 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jwXgmihkDIw&list=OLAK5uy_ksRpFrEL_onEROgkryRFr4rhIUu3vYyZc&index=7

And the song itself. The first is the album version (straight from vinyl!): 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0pK0qSSqL2E

The second is the singe version, with Phil Collins on drums and backing vocals, and produced by Hugh Padgham. There is marked difference here from the sound that Rupert Hine contributed to Jones' music: 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pekhxxngQ3s&list=OLAK5uy_ksRpFrEL_onEROgkryRFr4rhIUu3vYyZc&index=8 

Howard Jones, "No One Is to Blame" from Dream into Action (1985) 

You can look at the menu, but you just can't eat
You can feel the cushions, but you can't have a seat
You can dip your foot in the pool, but you can't have a swim
You can feel the punishment, but you can't commit the sin

And you want her, and she wants you
We want everyone
And you want her, and she wants you
No one, no one, no one ever is to blame

You can build a mansion, but you just can't live in it
You're the fastest runner but you're not allowed to win
Some break the rules, and let you count the cost
The insecurity is the thing that won't get lost

And you want her, and she wants you
We want everyone
And you want her and she wants you
No one, no one, no one ever is to blame

You can see the summit but you can't reach it
It's the last piece of the puzzle but you just can't make it fit
Doctor says you're cured but you still feel the pain
Aspirations in the clouds but your hopes go down the drain

And you want her, and she wants you
We want everyone
And you want her, and she wants you
No one, no one, no one ever is to blame

No one ever is to blame
No one ever is to blame

Delphic Maxims 29

Ἐχθροὺς ἀμύνου 

Beware of your enemies 

IMAGE: Jean-Leon Gerome, The Death of Caesar (1867) 

The Wisdom of Solomon 18:5-19

[5] When they had resolved to kill the babes of your holy ones, 
and one child had been exposed and rescued, 
you did in punishment take away a multitude 
of their children; 
and you did destroy them all together by a mighty flood. 
[6] That night was made known beforehand to our fathers, 
so that they might rejoice in sure knowledge 
of the oaths in which they trusted. 
[7] The deliverance of the righteous and the destruction
of their enemies 
were expected by your people. 
[8] For by the same means by which you did punish our enemies 
you did call us to yourself and glorify us. 
[9] For in secret the holy children of good men offered sacrifices, 
and with one accord agreed to the divine law, 
that the saints would share alike the same things, 
both blessings and dangers; 
and already they were singing the praises of the fathers. 
[10] But the discordant cry of their enemies echoed back, 
and their piteous lament for their children was spread abroad. 
[11] The slave was punished with the same penalty as the master, 
and the common man suffered the same loss as the king; 
[12] and they all together, by the one form of death, 
had corpses too many to count. 
For the living were not sufficient even to bury them, 
since in one instant their most valued children 
had been destroyed. 
[13] For though they had disbelieved everything 
because of their magic arts, 
yet, when their first-born were destroyed, 
they acknowledged your people to be God's sons. 
[14] For while gentle silence enveloped all things, 
and night in its swift course was now half gone, 
[15] your all-powerful word leaped from heaven, from 
the royal throne, 
into the midst of the land that was doomed, 
a stern warrior 
[16] carrying the sharp sword of your authentic command, and stood and filled all things with death, 
and touched heaven while standing on the earth. 
[17] Then at once apparitions in dreadful dreams 
greatly troubled them, 
and unexpected fears assailed them; 
[18] and one here and another there, hurled down half dead, 
made known why they were dying; 
[19] for the dreams which disturbed them forewarned them of this, 
so that they might not perish without knowing 
why they suffered. 

IMAGE: Charles Sprague Pearce, Lamentations Over the Death of the First-Born of Egypt (1877) 

Sayings of Ramakrishna 217

No man keeps a total fast. Some get food at 9 a.m., others at noon, others at 2 p.m., and others in the evening. 

Similarly, at some time or other, in this life or after many lives, all will see God. 

Seneca, Moral Letters 54.1

Letter 54: On asthma and death 

 
My ill-health had allowed me a long furlough, when suddenly it resumed the attack. 
 
"What kind of ill-health?" you say. 
 
And you surely have a right to ask; for it is true that no kind is unknown to me. But I have been consigned, so to speak, to one special ailment. I do not know why I should call it by its Greek name; for it is well enough described as "shortness of breath." Its attack is of very brief duration, like that of a squall at sea; it usually ends within an hour. Who indeed could breathe his last for long?
 
I have passed through all the ills and dangers of the flesh; but nothing seems to me more troublesome than this. And naturally so; for anything else may be called illness; but this is a sort of continued "last gasp." Hence physicians call it "practicing how to die." For some day the breath will succeed in doing what it has so often essayed.
 
Do you think I am writing this letter in a merry spirit, just because I have escaped? It would be absurd to take delight in such supposed restoration to health, as it would be for a defendant to imagine that he had won his case when he had succeeded in postponing his trial. 
 
Yet in the midst of my difficult breathing, I never ceased to rest secure in cheerful and brave thoughts. 

—from Seneca, Moral Letters 54 
 
The title our translator has attached to this letter makes me feel like I am about to read something closer to Existentialism than to Stoicism, but as soon as Seneca gets going, I see how he is taking something that is terribly painful, and then finding the sort of comfort in it that only a commitment to Nature can provide.
 
I have, thankfully, never had to bear any chronic problems with my breathing, and the best way I can relate to his description is an experience from my childhood, when I panicked in some deep water at the beach, and in my thrashing about swallowed a lungful of ocean. Being denied the power to take in air, even for a brief moment, is the closest I can imagine to how it feels to be dying. 
 
At around the same time, I knew a fellow in elementary school who suffered from severe asthma, and while I was too young to understand the specifics of his plight, I couldn’t help but notice three distinct qualities to his life: he clearly felt intense distress during an attack, he nevertheless bore it with incredible courage and calm, and I am fairly certain this helped him to be one the kindest and most patient people I have ever known. When the usual bullies mocked him about his condition, he would simply smile. 
 
Hardship can destroy a man, if only he so chooses, and hardship can also uplift a man, if only he so chooses. There is something truly noble about a willingness to be of good cheer in the presence of pain. I aspire to it all the more when I see everyday people find such peace in the midst of such agony. 
 
A part about my young friend that especially moved me was how he was quite aware that there would, sooner or later, be further attacks, any one of which might mean the end for him, and yet he always had the inner strength to endure it all with dignity. 
 
I have complained enough about a broken heart, or a throbbing head, or a shattered limb, and I know that I can be a much better man than I have so far been. That this or that has happened is made tolerable, and even redemptive, with a firmness of character, which remains constant in the awareness that every single circumstance is an opportunity for virtue and for joy. 

—Reflection written in 4/2013 

Stoic Snippets 205

Penetrate inwards into men's leading principles, and you will see what judges you are afraid of, and what kind of judges they are of themselves. 

—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 9.18 

IMAGE: William Hogarth, The Bench (1758) 

The Art of Peace 100

If you comprehend 

The Art of Peace, 

This difficult path, 

Just as it is, 

Envelops the circle of Heaven. 

Seneca, Moral Letters 53.4

Turn to her, therefore, with all your soul, sit at her feet, cherish her; a great distance will then begin to separate you from other men. You will be far ahead of all mortals, and even the gods will not be far ahead of you. 
 
Do you ask what will be the difference between yourself and the gods? They will live longer. But, by my faith, it is the sign of a great artist to have confined a full likeness to the limits of a miniature. The wise man's life spreads out to him over as large a surface as does all eternity to a god. 
 
There is one point in which the sage has an advantage over the god; for a god is freed from terrors by the bounty of nature, the wise man by his own bounty.
 
What a wonderful privilege, to have the weaknesses of a man and the serenity of a god! The power of Philosophy to blunt the blows of chance is beyond belief. No missile can settle in her body; she is well-protected and impenetrable. She spoils the force of some missiles and wards them off with the loose folds of her gown, as if they had no power to harm; others she dashes aside, and hurls them back with such force that they recoil upon the sender. Farewell. 

—from Seneca. Moral Letters 53 
 
I find great comfort in thinking of Philosophy as feminine, even though I know how it offends the sensibilities of our age. I do so for the same reason a sailor speaks of his ship as a she, since I have the deepest affection, respect, and reverence for her, in that ascending order. Shun me all you like—I commit to chivalry. 
 
I am grateful I was still taught to see male and female as more than a matter of sex, but as the reflection of all the complementarities in Nature, and I still believe a man should express himself as a gentleman, and a woman as a lady. This is not a matter of external formalities, but of internal character. 
 
I know I am always a far better man for loving and honoring a woman, whether she be my mother, my wife, or my daughter, and a far worse man for treating her as a mere object for my gratification. 
 
I immediately think of Lady Philosophy from Boethius’ Consolation, who instills in me a profound sense of awe and deference. If I can manage to follow her with all of my heart and mind, what harm could ever befall me? 
 
She teaches me to rely upon my own virtues, and to rise above my circumstances. She comforts me when the world hurts, by reminding me why I need not be a slave to the world, and that the hurt is only from my own flawed estimation. 
 
The Divine is the perfection of all things, and to be greater in self-sufficiency is to be greater in perfection. By inspiring me to thrive according to the nature within me, Philosophy brings me just so much closer to God. 
 
You say I am weak because I will not live forever? No, I can be strong precisely because I can transform even this very brief moment into a glorious service to the true, the good, and the beautiful. There is no one out there who can stop me from being happy, if I only choose to be happy. 
 
How wonderful that while a god has more power over his surroundings, a decent man develops more power over himself, and thereby fulfills his own distinct brand of perfection. Even the smallest of folks can have the spunk to make Ares or Athena jealous! 
 
I find this passage so moving that I hesitate to say any more about it. Keep your bombs and your guns. Philosophy is the only defense I need. 

—Reflection written in 4/2013 

IMAGE: Giovanni Martinelli, An Allegory of Wisdom (c. 1645) 

Sayings of Heraclitus 73

All things are an exchange for Fire, and Fire for all things, even as wares for gold and gold for wares. 

Circle Limit I-IV

M.C. Escher, Circle Limit I-IV (1958-1960) 

Tidbits from Montaigne 56

Marriage happens as with cages: the birds without despair to get in, and those within despair of getting out. 

—Michel de Montaigne, Essays 3.5 

Dhammapada 326

This mind of mine went formerly wandering about as it liked, as it listed, as it pleased; but I shall now hold it in thoroughly, as the rider who holds the hook holds in the furious elephant. 

Seneca, Moral Letters 53.3

Let us, therefore, rouse ourselves, that we may be able to correct our mistakes. Philosophy, however, is the only power that can stir us, the only power that can shake off our deep slumber. Devote yourself wholly to philosophy. You are worthy of her; she is worthy of you; greet one another with a loving embrace. Say farewell to all other interests with courage and frankness. Do not study philosophy merely during your spare time. 

If you were ill, you would stop caring for your personal concerns, and forget your business duties; you would not think highly enough of any client to take active charge of his case during a slight abatement of your sufferings. You would try your hardest to be rid of the illness as soon as possible. 

What, then? Shall you not do the same thing now? Throw aside all hindrances and give up your time to getting a sound mind; for no man can attain it if he is engrossed in other matters. 

Philosophy wields her own authority; she appoints her own time and does not allow it to be appointed for her. She is not a thing to be followed at odd times, but a subject for daily practice; she is mistress, and she commands our attendance.

Alexander, when a certain state promised him a part of its territory and half its entire property, replied: "I invaded Asia with the intention, not of accepting what you might give, but of allowing you to keep what I might leave." 

Philosophy likewise keeps saying to all occupations: "I do not intend to accept the time which you have left over, but I shall allow you to keep what I myself shall leave." 

—from Seneca, Moral Letters 53 

Now how can I go about recognizing my faults? What is the best way to keep my soul awake and alert? 
 
The media “culture” that surrounds me insists that I will feel best when I conform myself to the entire range of its products, yet would that not be an act of blind surrender, in place of a conscious discernment?
 
The politicians tell me to support their campaigns, and I am glad they at least advise me to be active, yet how am I to judge the righteousness of their many and changing causes? 
 
The economists say I should be clever about acquiring ever more money, yet should I buy and sell my neighbors to get it, or spend my winnings on anything that happens to tickle my fancy? 
 
The psychologists urge me to “follow the science”, yet behind the complex patterns to the behaviors, where is the distinction of the good from the evil in the underlying choices? 
 
The preachers demand that I just have faith, yet what sort of monster might I become if I commit my trust without first seeking the guidance of understanding? 
 
Whatever the discipline, regarding any possible aspects of life, I will need to develop the power of judging the true from the false, the right from the wrong, the beautiful from the ugly. For any art or science to function rightly, it must have a firm foundation in first principles. Whatever we endeavor to do, we rely upon philosophy to provide such an ultimate measure. 
 
No, I once again don’t mean philosophy as just another profession, but rather philosophy as a reasoned and ordered worldview, upon which the meaning and value of all our efforts depend. There can be no survey of “truths” where there is no yardstick for “Truth”. 
 
Politics, economics, psychology, or religion must operate within the purpose of the whole, and they require the direction of a moral compass. The relative, by its very definition, exists only within the context of what is absolute. Simply by thinking and by choosing, we are already philosophical creatures, and the only question is if we will judge well or judge poorly. 
 
The lesser is in the service of the greater, and so the wise man is happy to put aside the diversions to go straight to the source. Just as I ought to care for my health over going to the office, I am well-advised to work on the content of my character before I buy a new car. I’m a fool to get my wires crossed. 
 
And since philosophy is about what is universal and necessary, it does not admit of conditions, compromises, or equivocations. I can’t attempt to distract from philosophy by pointing to what is outside of the picture, because philosophy encompasses the entire picture. Philosophy will not wait upon me—I shall wait upon philosophy. 

—Reflection written in 4/2013 

IMAGE: Albrecht Dürer, Philosophia (1502) 

Sayings of Publilius Syrus 119

The greatest comfort is to be free from blame. 

Epictetus, Golden Sayings 170

When you visit any of those in power, bethink yourself that you will not find him in; that you may not be admitted; that the door may be shut in your face; that he may not concern himself about you. 

If with all this, it is your duty to go, bear what happens, and never say to yourself, "It was not worth the trouble!"  

For that would smack of the foolish and unlearned, who suffer outward things to touch them. 

Seneca, Moral Letters 53.2

When I finally calmed my stomach (for you know that one does not escape seasickness by escaping from the sea) and refreshed my body with a rubdown, I began to reflect how completely we forget or ignore our failings, even those that affect the body, which are continually reminding us of their existence—not to mention those which are more serious in proportion as they are more hidden.
 
A slight ague deceives us; but when it has increased and a genuine fever has begun to burn, it forces even a hardy man, who can endure much suffering, to admit that he is ill. 
 
There is pain in the foot, and a tingling sensation in the joints; but we still hide the complaint and announce that we have sprained a joint, or else are tired from over-exercise. 
 
Then the ailment, uncertain at first, must be given a name; and when it begins to swell the ankles also, and has made both our feet "right" feet, we are bound to confess that we have the gout.
 
The opposite holds true of diseases of the soul; the worse one is, the less one perceives it. You need not be surprised, my beloved Lucilius. For he whose sleep is light pursues visions during slumber, and sometimes, though asleep, is conscious that he is asleep; but sound slumber annihilates our very dreams and sinks the spirit down so deep that it has no perception of self.
 
Why will no man confess his faults? Because he is still in their grasp; only he who is awake can recount his dream, and similarly a confession of sin is a proof of sound mind. 

—from Seneca, Moral Letters 53 
 
An ailment may limit my capacities, and yet I hinder myself far more when I pretend that there is absolutely nothing wrong with me to begin with. As great as the pressure of the circumstances might be, it fades in contrast to the power of a mind to set its own attitude, for good or for ill. 
 
I suppose it is a function of my stubborn temperament, but I so dislike feeling sick that I will often try to simply wish my condition away: if I don’t acknowledge it, maybe it will magically disappear? 
 
This frustrates my wife to no end, and while there can be merit to a strong will, it ends up being a failing when divorced from a sound understanding. That determination would be better directed toward working with the facts, not against them. Contrary to what they say, what I don’t know can hurt me, and so resolve mixed with ignorance can only lead to pigheadedness. 
 
Those little aches and pains are surely telling me something is amiss, which ought to make me more attentive. If I wait until the suffering is overwhelming, it may be far too late to apply a remedy. While there is no need for panic, the reasonable man learns to observe what makes him tick, even in the in the tiniest of details. 
 
The danger is even greater in disorders of the soul than in those of the body, for the confusion in my very judgments makes it all the more difficult to discern my problems clearly. As the bewilderment increases, the focus of my awareness decreases.
 
It’s hard enough to think straight when I have a fever, even harder to think straight when I am stricken with fear, lust, or anger. I am mistaking a passion for a reason, like some drowsy fellow who takes the wrong pills because he has misplaced his glasses. 
 
Back in my Wilderness Years, I would often drink at night, so I wouldn’t have to remember my dreams. Passing out, however, is no cure for pain, and the deepest sleep still offers no escape from the weight of my vices. Waking up is the only way to restore sanity, to achieve some peace of mind. To finally fix myself I must first come to honestly know myself. 

—Reflection written in 4/2013 

IMAGE: David Ryckaert the Younger, Old Man Sleeping (c. 1642) 

The Labors of Hercules 12

Hans Sebald Beham, Hercules Dragging Cerberus from the Underworld (1545) 

Francisco de Zurbaran, Hercules and Cerberus (1634) 

Peter Paul Rubens, Hercules and Cerberus (c. 1637) 

Johann Köler, Heracles Brings Cerberus from the Gates of Hell (1855) 

Maxims of Goethe 17

As little as you can stifle a steam-engine, so little can you do this in the moral sphere either. The activity of commerce, the rush and rustle of paper-money, the swelling-up of debts to pay debts—all these are the monstrous elements to which in these days a young man is exposed. 

Well is it for him if he is gifted by nature with a sober, quiet temperament; neither to make claims on the world out of all proportion to his position, nor yet let the world determine it. . . . 

But on all sides he is threatened by the spirit of the day, and nothing is more needful than to make him see early enough the direction in which his will has to steer. 

Seneca, Moral Letters 53.1

Letter 53: On the faults of the spirit 

 
You can persuade me into almost anything now, for I was recently persuaded to travel by water. We cast off when the sea was lazily smooth; the sky, to be sure, was heavy with nasty clouds, such as usually break into rain or squalls. Still, I thought that the few miles between Puteoli and your dear Parthenope might be run off in quick time, despite the uncertain and lowering sky. So, in order to get away more quickly, I made straight out to sea for Nesis, with the purpose of cutting across all the inlets. 
 
But when we were so far out that it made little difference to me whether I returned or kept on, the calm weather, which had enticed me, came to naught. The storm had not yet begun, but the groundswell was on, and the waves kept steadily coming faster. I began to ask the pilot to put me ashore somewhere; he replied that the coast was rough and a bad place to land, and that in a storm he feared a lee shore more than anything else.
 
But I was suffering too grievously to think of the danger, since a sluggish seasickness which brought no relief was racking me, the sort that upsets the liver without clearing it. Therefore I laid down the law to my pilot, forcing him to make for the shore, willy-nilly. When we drew near, I did not wait for things to be done in accordance with Vergil's orders, until

“Prow faced seawards” 

or 

“Anchor plunged from bow;^” 

I remembered my profession as a veteran devotee of cold water, and, clad as I was in my cloak, let myself down into the sea, just as a cold-water bather should.

What do you think my feelings were, scrambling over the rocks, searching out the path, or making one for myself? I understood that sailors have good reason to fear the land. It is hard to believe what I endured when I could not endure myself; you may be sure that the reason why Ulysses was shipwrecked on every possible occasion was not so much because the sea god was angry with him from his birth; he was simply subject to seasickness. And in the future I also, if I must go anywhere by sea, shall only reach my destination in the twentieth year . 

—from Seneca, Moral Letters 53 

Certain hard-edged people, who are very much caught up in their circumstances, will regularly tell me that Stoicism is an “unrealistic” or “impractical” philosophy, and I can only suggest to them that where we choose to place our priorities will, in turn, determine what we consider to be either reasonable or convenient. 

I understand the root of the objection, and yet one can hardly claim that the Stoics are not acutely aware of the gritty details of common life, or of the way our impressions act upon us in incredibly powerful ways. Stoicism does not wish to brush aside everyday experience, but rather seeks to provide a meaningful context for what too often feels like a tangled mess of insistent passions. 

This letter opens with a more involved personal story than usual, and the way Seneca describes his frightful sea journey serves as a helpful reminder of how a Stoic attitude must ground us in this turbulent life. Why is this feeling so vivid? How can I go about discerning and correcting my weaknesses, so I will not be so easily tossed about the next time I confront an anxiety? 

Seneca started out on his voyage full of confidence, but Nature quickly showed him who was in charge. What began as a nausea in the gut became a sort of panic in the mind, and I imagine that all of us, even the most resilient, have known such a sense of helplessness. It can be awfully discouraging to face our limitations, especially when they catch us unawares. 

I do not have my father’s love for the sea, so I tend to stay clear of large bodies of water if I can help it, and this is the only reason why I have managed to avoid the discomfort of seasickness. Given how severely people describe it, I’m glad to have been spared. 

The closest I can come to Seneca’s plight is my fear of heights, which only showed up later in life, after a grueling ascent of a rock face with my uncle. He sternly told me not to look down, which, of course, I promptly did, and since then I feel paralyzed by most any drop. As the years have passed, it only seems to have gotten worse, and now even a balcony or a stairwell give me the jitters. 

As much as I would like to blame that mountain for messing with my perceptions, I must humbly admit that the problem is entirely in my head. Willpower alone has not been enough to cure it, and I continue to work on subtler ways I can best calm my nerves when I climb up a ladder. 

If such pains must come, what will I decide to do with them? The G.I. Joe cartoons of my youth told me that knowing is half the battle, and there is actually a profound wisdom to this. If I can’t remove the obstacle, I can still find a way to step around it, to work with it, to transform it into something of benefit. 

If I am first aware of my foibles, at least they won’t creep up on me! 

—Reflection written in 4/2013 

Delphic Maxims 28

Φίλοις εὐνόει 

Be kind to your friends 

Aesop's Fables 68

The Hare and the Tortoise 

The Hare was once boasting of his speed before the other animals. "I have never yet been beaten," said he, "when I put forth my full speed. I challenge anyone here to race with me." 

The Tortoise said quietly: "I accept your challenge." 

"That is a good joke," said the Hare; "I could dance round you all the way." 

"Keep your boasting till you've beaten," answered the Tortoise. "Shall we race?" 

So a course was fixed and a start was made. The Hare darted almost out of sight at once, but soon stopped and, to show his contempt for the Tortoise, lay down to have a nap. 

The Tortoise plodded on and plodded on, and when the Hare awoke from his nap, he saw the Tortoise just near the winning-post and could not run up in time to save the race. 

Then said the Tortoise: 

"Plodding wins the race." 

Seneca, Moral Letters 52.7

Young men, indeed, must sometimes have free play to follow their impulses, but it should only be at times when they act from impulse, and when they cannot force themselves to be silent. 
 
Such praise as that gives a certain kind of encouragement to the hearers themselves, and acts as a spur to the youthful mind. But let them be roused to the matter, and not to the style; otherwise, eloquence does them harm, making them enamored of itself, and not of the subject. 
 
I shall postpone this topic for the present; it demands a long and special investigation, to show how the public should be addressed, what indulgences should be allowed to a speaker on a public occasion, and what should be allowed to the crowd itself in the presence of the speaker. 
 
There can be no doubt that philosophy has suffered a loss, now that she has exposed her charms for sale. But she can still be viewed in her sanctuary, if her exhibitor is a priest and not a peddler. Farewell. 

—from Seneca, Moral Letters 52 
 
Many people assume that Stoicism is about repressing the emotions, when it is really about providing order and balance to the emotions, but for someone who remains a slave to desire that will sound just as frightening. 
 
I spent far too long chasing after mere gratification, and the bitter irony was that I never even delighted in all those supposed pleasures, because my entire soul was in thrall to a frantic confusion. It was only when I started to tame myself that I actually began to experience happiness. 
 
Of course, there will be times when I cry out loud or jump for joy, and it would be a shame if I twisted a quest for calm into a life of cold and heartless drudgery. The adventure of youth is especially inclined to excitement, for all of that vitality demands a release, though I find with age that a serene satisfaction ends up running so much deeper. Yet whether my temperament is exuberant or reserved, the trick is to keep both hands firmly on the wheel. 
 
I have indeed found myself exhilarated by philosophical insights, but Seneca’s rule must be heeded, that I be moved by the truth of what is said, and not swept away by the charms of the one who says it. Understanding is the key to not permitting our impressions to hold us hostage, and so I should always attend to the why instead of being diverted by the allure of the how. 
 
For all its energy, a raucous crowd is an undisciplined crowd, which flies in the face of everything philosophy seeks to inspire. Beware of the fellow who tries to market philosophy as a flashy product, all wrapped up in clever slogans and alluring images, since he is not approaching you in good faith, and he will leave you with empty pockets to go along with your empty soul. 
 
While the sophist tries to astound you with his words, the philosopher works to instill a profound respect for what the words ought to signify. Piety has more power than pizzazz. Choose your teachers accordingly. 

—Reflection written in 4/2013