There should be a difference between the applause of the theater and the applause of the school; and there is a certain decency even in bestowing praise.
If you mark them carefully, all acts are always significant, and you can gauge character by even the most trifling signs.
The lecherous man is revealed by his gait, by a movement of the hand, sometimes by a single answer, by his touching his head with a finger, by the shifting of his eye.
The scamp is shown up by his laugh; the madman by his face and general appearance.
These qualities become known by certain marks; but you can tell the character of every man when you see how he gives and receives praise.
The philosopher's audience, from this corner and that, stretch forth admiring hands, and sometimes the adoring crowd almost hang over the lecturer's head.
But, if you really understand, that is not praise; it is merely applause. These outcries should be left for the arts which aim to please the crowd; let philosophy be worshipped in silence.
If you mark them carefully, all acts are always significant, and you can gauge character by even the most trifling signs.
The lecherous man is revealed by his gait, by a movement of the hand, sometimes by a single answer, by his touching his head with a finger, by the shifting of his eye.
The scamp is shown up by his laugh; the madman by his face and general appearance.
These qualities become known by certain marks; but you can tell the character of every man when you see how he gives and receives praise.
The philosopher's audience, from this corner and that, stretch forth admiring hands, and sometimes the adoring crowd almost hang over the lecturer's head.
But, if you really understand, that is not praise; it is merely applause. These outcries should be left for the arts which aim to please the crowd; let philosophy be worshipped in silence.
—from Seneca, Moral Letters 52
Clapping our hands, stomping our feet, or yelling at the top of our lungs are not, in and of themselves, the problem. The Stoic understands how it is the convergence of the act with the intention that matters.
What is my purpose? Am I being loud in order to make myself feel more important? Am I finding pleasure in the spotlight because it feeds my vanity? Be careful!
There are few things nobler than a sincere offering of respect, and few things baser than hamming it up.
I have always loved music, of so many varieties, and yet I am deeply uncomfortable with the way both “performers” and their “audiences” feel the need to play a ridiculous game of hysterical idolatry.
I’ve seen it at the opera just as I’ve seen it at the club, and I fear it has little to do with appreciating beauty, and more to do with self-gratification. Music, I believe, is best played among friends, who have no need for pretensions.
I find it very difficult to trust someone who likes to put on a show, and I do worry that I am too quick to judge. Nevertheless, by their fruits shall you know them; the exterior behavior is a fair indicator of the interior attitude.
So the seducer likes to strut about, and the seductress knows how to give you that come-hither look. The pitchman slaps you on the back and then laughs all the way to the bank. The fellow consumed by resentment is bursting with bravado at the very moment he is doubting himself.
I take special note of the demagogue, whose exaggerated words and gestures are a surefire warning that you are about to get screwed.
In contrast, the thoughtful man, the loving man, the proper philosopher, will point to what is glorious, even as he does not think one bit of his own glory—he gains it precisely by not seeking it.
And you wonder why this strange Stoic fellow is now finding so much of worth in the teachings of Taoism . . .
Clapping our hands, stomping our feet, or yelling at the top of our lungs are not, in and of themselves, the problem. The Stoic understands how it is the convergence of the act with the intention that matters.
What is my purpose? Am I being loud in order to make myself feel more important? Am I finding pleasure in the spotlight because it feeds my vanity? Be careful!
There are few things nobler than a sincere offering of respect, and few things baser than hamming it up.
I have always loved music, of so many varieties, and yet I am deeply uncomfortable with the way both “performers” and their “audiences” feel the need to play a ridiculous game of hysterical idolatry.
I’ve seen it at the opera just as I’ve seen it at the club, and I fear it has little to do with appreciating beauty, and more to do with self-gratification. Music, I believe, is best played among friends, who have no need for pretensions.
I find it very difficult to trust someone who likes to put on a show, and I do worry that I am too quick to judge. Nevertheless, by their fruits shall you know them; the exterior behavior is a fair indicator of the interior attitude.
So the seducer likes to strut about, and the seductress knows how to give you that come-hither look. The pitchman slaps you on the back and then laughs all the way to the bank. The fellow consumed by resentment is bursting with bravado at the very moment he is doubting himself.
I take special note of the demagogue, whose exaggerated words and gestures are a surefire warning that you are about to get screwed.
In contrast, the thoughtful man, the loving man, the proper philosopher, will point to what is glorious, even as he does not think one bit of his own glory—he gains it precisely by not seeking it.
And you wonder why this strange Stoic fellow is now finding so much of worth in the teachings of Taoism . . .
—Reflection written in 4/2013
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