To-Do List

Michael Leunig 54

Xenophon, Memorabilia of Socrates 28

I have at another time heard Socrates discourse on the kindred theme of friendship in language well calculated, as it seemed to me, to help a man to choose and also to use his friends aright. 

He had often heard the remark made that of all possessions there is none equal to that of a good and sincere friend; but, in spite of this assertion, the mass of people, as far as he could see, concerned themselves about nothing so little as the acquisition of friends. 

Houses, and fields, and slaves, and cattle, and furniture of all sorts, he said, they were at pains to acquire, and they strove hard to keep what they had got; but to procure for themselves this greatest of all blessings, as they admitted a friend to be, or to keep the friends whom they already possessed, not one man in a hundred ever gave himself a thought. 

It was noticeable, in the case of a sickness befalling a man's friend and one of his own household simultaneously, the promptness with which the master would fetch the doctor to his domestic, and take every precaution necessary for his recovery, with much expenditure of pains; but meanwhile little account would be taken of the friend in like condition, and if both should die, he will show signs of deep annoyance at the death of his domestic, which, as he reflects, is a positive loss to him; but as regards his friend his position is in no wise materially affected, and thus, though he would never dream of leaving his other possessions disregarded and ill cared for, friendship's mute appeal is met with flat indifference. 

Or to take, said he, a crowning instance: with regard to ordinary possessions, however multifarious these may be, most people are at least acquainted with their number, but if you ask a man to enumerate his friends, who are not so very many after all perhaps, he cannot; or if, to oblige the inquirer, he essays to make a list, he will presently retract the names of some whom he had previously included. Such is the amount of thought which people bestow upon their friends. 

And yet what thing else may a man call his own is comparable to this one best possession! What rather will not serve by contrast to enhance the value of an honest friend! Think of a horse or a yoke of oxen; they have their worth; but who shall gauge the worth of a worthy friend? Kindlier and more constant than the faithfullest of slaves—this is that possession best named all-serviceable. 

Consider what the post is that he assigns himself! To meet and supplement what is lacking to the welfare of his friends, to promote their private and their public interests, is his concern. Is there need of kindly action in any quarter? He will throw in the full weight of his support. Does some terror confound? He is at hand to help and defend by expenditure of money and of energy, by appeals to reason or resort to force. 

His is the privilege alike to gladden the prosperous in the hour of success and to sustain their footing who have well-nigh slipped. All that the hands of a man may minister, all that the eyes of each are swift to see, the ears to hear, and the feet to compass, he with his helpful arts will not fall short of. Nay, not seldom that which a man has failed to accomplish for himself, has missed seeing or hearing or attaining, a friend acting in behalf of friend will achieve vicariously. 

And yet, albeit to try and tend a tree for the sake of its fruit is not uncommon, this copious mine of wealth—this friend—attracts only a lazy and listless attention on the part of more than half the world. 

—from Xenophon, Memorabilia 2.4 

IMAGE: Pontormo, Portrait of Two Friends (c. 1522) 

The Liberal Arts 30

Hans Sebald Beham, The Seven Liberal Arts: Astronomy (c. 1520) 

The Liberal Arts 29

Hans Sebald Beham, The Seven Liberal Arts: Music (c. 1520) 

The Liberal Arts 28

Hans Sebald Beham, The Seven Liberal Arts: Geometry (c. 1520) 

The Liberal Arts 27

Hans Sebald Beham, The Seven Liberal Arts: Arithmetic (c. 1520) 

The Liberal Arts 26

Hans Sebald Beham, The Seven Liberal Arts: Rhetoric (c. 1520) 

 

The Liberal Arts 25

Hans Sebald Beham, The Seven Liberal Arts: Dialectic (c. 1520) 

The Liberal Arts 24

Hans Sebald Beham, The Seven Liberal Arts: Grammar (c. 1520)

Stoic Snippets 221

It is useful to perceive this, too, immediately when the occasion arises, what virtue Nature has given to man to oppose to every wrongful act. 

For she has given to man, as an antidote against the stupid man, mildness, and against another kind of man some other power. 

And in all cases it is possible for you to correct by teaching the man who is gone astray; for every man who errs misses his object and is gone astray. 

Besides, wherein have you been injured? For you will find that no one among those against whom you are irritated has done anything by which your mind could be made worse; but that which is evil to you and harmful has its foundation only in the mind. 

—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 9.42 

IMAGE: P.J. Chaillou, Mildness Binding Cupid's Wings (c. 1750) 

Man's Search for Meaning 4

In psychiatry there is a certain condition known as "delusion of reprieve." The condemned man, immediately before his execution, gets the illusion that he might be reprieved at the very last minute. 

We, too, clung to shreds of hope and believed to the last moment that it would not be so bad. Just the sight of the red cheeks and round faces of those prisoners was a great encouragement. Little did we know then that they formed a specially chosen elite, who for years had been the receiving squad for new transports as they rolled into the station day after day. 

They took charge of the new arrivals and their luggage, including scarce items and smuggled jewelry. Auschwitz must have been a strange spot in this Europe of the last years of the war. There must have been unique treasures of gold and silver, platinum and diamonds, not only in the huge storehouses but also in the hands of the SS. 

Fifteen hundred captives were cooped up in a shed built to accommodate probably two hundred at the most. We were cold and hungry and there was not enough room for everyone to squat on the bare ground, let alone to lie down. One five-ounce piece of bread was our only food in four days. 

Yet I heard the senior prisoners in charge of the shed bargain with one member of the receiving party about a tie-pin made of platinum and diamonds. Most of the profits would eventually be traded for liquor—schnapps. 

I do not remember any more just how many thousands of marks were needed to purchase the quantity of schnapps required for a "gay evening," but I do know that those long-term prisoners needed schnapps. Under such conditions, who could blame them for trying to dope themselves? 

There was another group of prisoners who got liquor supplied in almost unlimited quantities by the SS: these were the men who were employed in the gas chambers and crematoriums, and who knew very well that one day they would be relieved by a new shift of men, and that they would have to leave their enforced role of executioner and become victims themselves. 

—from Viktor Frankl, Man's Search for Meaning 

Howard Jones, Dream into Action 7

Even in the early 1980's, I was equally entranced and suspicious of new technology. I suppose I was already reflecting, in however crude a manner, about what made us human, and what either assisted us or hindered us in the exercise of that humanity.  

Back then, our elders complained about too much television, and what few will remember is how the Sony Walkman was criticized for isolating us from the people around us. The more things change, the more they stay the same, for now we might observe the role of the cellphone and the internet in replacing the world of the real with the world of the artificial. 

My geeky friends and I would write programs in BASIC on the school's Apple II's, and we would speculate wildly about whether computers would someday take over the world. Our obsession with the film Terminator certainly didn't help. It might seem silly now, and yet we are still struggling with precisely those questions. 

I listened to this track with those concerns in mind, and long before I heard that the song was based on a dream Howard Jones had, I felt it had a certain nightmarish quality. 

As I grow older, I find that it makes little difference whether the technology involves banging together two rocks or constructing an android: whatever the tools at hand, how will a man choose to employ those tools? 

Robots and so-called "artificial intelligence" aren't the problem—the presence or absence of wisdom and love in how we live is most assuredly the problem. A machine made to mimic a man will only be as good as the virtues of its creator. 

—5/2007 

A few words of commentary from Howard Jones: 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u63-gc7dQJU&list=OLAK5uy_ksRpFrEL_onEROgkryRFr4rhIUu3vYyZc&index=13 

And the song itself: 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VAtYHQjJ-As&list=OLAK5uy_ksRpFrEL_onEROgkryRFr4rhIUu3vYyZc&index=14 

Howard Jones, "Automaton" from Dream into Action (1985) 

He arrived on the scene 
With no past and no future 
He seemed to know your dreams 
Replace tears with laughter 

Street corner whispers 
Would mention his name 
Selfish? Benevolent? 
What was his game? 

Some say he's perfect 
Some say a spy 
A hidden power 
They all wonder why 
The rumors mounted 
But still no fact 
I need to find out 
Some say perfect hidden power 
We all wonder why 

Questions unanswered 
Suspicion alerted 
I went round to his place 
It felt quite deserted 
I climbed the stairs to where 
His body lay without motion 
No spirit lives in there 
The cord had been broken 

His skin was reptile 
No life in there 
Not young not old 
A long hollow glare 
His breath had stopped 
No hearts beat there 
Is this a man? 
Should I believe hidden power? 
They all wondered why 

My attention was caught 
By a sound from the door 
Panic gripped the mind 
What lay in store? 
A being stared at me 
Benevolent, not cold 
Automaton—He is controlled 

His skin was reptile. . . . 

Automaton—No life in there 
No past and no future 
Is this a man? 
Automaton—No life in there 
No past and not future 
Is this a man?  

Stobaeus on Stoic Ethics 4

Of virtues some are primary, some subordinate to the primary. 

There are four primary virtues: prudence, temperance, courage, justice. 

And prudence concerns appropriate acts; temperance concerns human impulses; courage  concerns instances of standing firm; justice concerns distributions. 

Of those subordinate to these, some are subordinate to prudence, some to temperance, some to courage, some to justice. 

To prudence are subordinate deliberative excellence, good calculation, quick-wittedness, good sense, a good sense of purpose, resourcefulness. 

To temperance: organization, orderliness, modesty, self-control. 

To courage: endurance, confidence, great-heartedness, stout-heartedness, love of work. 

To justice: piety, good-heartedness, public-spiritedness, fair dealing. 

They say, then, that deliberative excellence is a knowledge of the type and manner of actions which we must perform in order to act advantageously. 

Good calculation is knowledge which draws up a balance and summarizes the value of what happens and is produced. 

Quick-wittedness is knowledge which instantly finds out what the appropriate action is. 

Good sense is knowledge of what is better and worse.

A good sense of purpose is knowledge that achieves its goal in each action. 

Resourcefulness is knowledge that discovers a way out of difficulties. 

Organization is knowledge of when one is to act and what [to do] after what and in general of the ordering of actions. 

Orderliness is knowledge of appropriate and inappropriate motions.

Modesty is knowledge which is cautious about proper criticism.

Self-control is an unsurpassable knowledge of what is revealed by right reason. 

Endurance is knowledge which stands by correct decisions. 

Confidence is knowledge in virtue of which we know that we shall meet with nothing which is terrible. 

Great-heartedness is knowledge which makes one superior to those things which naturally occur among both virtuous and base men. 

Stout-heartedness is knowledge in a soul which makes it the soul invincible. 

Love of work is a knowledge which achieves its goal by labor, not being deterred by hard work. 

Piety is knowledge of service to the gods. 

Good-heartedness is knowledge which does good to others. 

Public-spiritedness is knowledge of fairness in a community. 

Fair dealing is knowledge of how to deal with one’s neighbors blamelessly. 

The Wisdom of Solomon 19:6-12

[6] For the whole creation in its nature was fashioned anew,
complying with your commands,
that your children might be kept unharmed.
[7] The cloud was seen overshadowing the camp,
and dry land emerging where water had stood before,
an unhindered way out of the Red Sea,
and a grassy plain out of the raging waves,
[8] where those protected by your hand passed through as one nation,
after gazing on marvelous wonders.
[9] For they ranged like horses,
and leaped like lambs,
praising you, O Lord, who did deliver them.
[10] For they still recalled the events of their sojourn,
how instead of producing animals the earth brought forth gnats,
and instead of fish the river spewed out vast numbers of frogs.
[11] Afterward they saw also a new kind of birds,
when desire led them to ask for luxurious food;
[12] for, to give them relief, quails came up from the sea.  

IMAGE: Nicolas Poussin, The Crossing of the Red Sea (1634) 

Dhammapada 351, 352

He who has reached the consummation, who does not tremble, who is without thirst and without sin, he has broken all the thorns of life: this will be his last body. 

He who is without thirst and without affection, who understands the words and their interpretation, who knows the order of letters, those which are before and which are after, he has received his last body, he is called the great sage, the great man. 

The Art of Peace 103

The Art of Peace that I practice has room for each of the world's eight million gods, and I cooperate with them all. 

The God of Peace is very great and enjoins all that is divine and enlightened in every land. 

IMAGES: Itsukushima Gate

Seneca, Moral Letters 59.2

But, to return to the subject, let me tell you what delighted me in your letter. You have your words under control. You are not carried away by your language, or borne beyond the limits which you have determined upon.
 
Many writers are tempted by the charm of some alluring phrase to some topic other than that which they had set themselves to discuss. But this has not been so in your case; all your words are compact, and suited to the subject, You say all that you wish, and you mean still more than you say. This is a proof of the importance of your subject matter, showing that your mind, as well as your words, contains nothing superfluous or bombastic. 
 
I do, however, find some metaphors, not, indeed, daring ones, but the kind which have stood the test of use. I find similes also; of course, if anyone forbids us to use them, maintaining that poets alone have that privilege, he has not, apparently, read any of our ancient prose writers, who had not yet learned to affect a style that should win applause. 
 
For those writers, whose eloquence was simple and directed only towards proving their case, are full of comparisons; and I think that these are necessary, not for the same reason which makes them necessary for the poets, but in order that they may serve as props to our feebleness, to bring both speaker and listener face to face with the subject under discussion. 

—from Seneca, Moral Letters 59 
 
Just as the temperate man can regulate his passions, and the intemperate man permits himself to be swept away by them, so we might say that some are masters of their words, while others are slaves to them. It is no accident that wayward speech is so often a sign of wayward character. 
 
I do not mean merely the rash act of speaking before thinking, but the more subtle error of allowing our language to tickle our sense of self-importance. A fixation with the appearance makes us lose focus on the task at hand. 
 
I am regularly drawn to some clever phrase or pretentious expression, and before I know it, I am not only craving attention, but I have also completely abandoned my original argument in favor of some intellectual diversion. An obsession with pretty words undermines my commitment to grounded reasoning. 
 
If I can manage to keep my speech in check, and not permit it to drag me about, I am contributing one more component to the habit of self-control. This can be rather difficult, for I am tempted to believe that sounding more profound might actually make me a better man, and it’s all because I have mistaken recognition for merit. 
 
Grand analogies, for example, have a way of running away with me, as I try to force an immediate reality into some obscure symbolism that doesn’t quite fit. The complexity of my words has now made the whole matter more confused, when my writing was meant to make it clearer. More isn’t necessarily any better. 
 
Should I then toss out all comparisons? Is reaching for a metaphor a sign of weakness? As always, let me be wary of swinging from one extreme to the other. While I must avoid the urge to wax poetic, the fact remains that an analogy can help us to gradually work from the more familiar to the less familiar, to learn more about what we don’t yet know by means of what we already do know. 
 
Employed with a firm restraint, and keeping in mind how no resemblance can be perfectly exact, the art of comparing and contrasting is a fine tool for fuller understanding. The abuse only begins when our words get too big for our meaning. 
 
I need all the help I can get! 

—Reflection written in 6/2013 

IMAGE: Artemisia Gentileschi, Allegory of Rhetoric (c. 1650) 

William Hogarth, A Rake's Progress 4

Whenever I complain that life isn't fair, I try to remember how wickedness will inevitably catch up with any of us, whether in this way or that, whether sooner or later. You can call it Providence, or you can call it natural law, or you can call it karma, but happiness and misery are always in proportion to virtue and vice. 

It might not come back in quite the manner we expect, but it is certain to come back. 

Tom has had his fun for a few frames, and now he begins to reap what he sowed. Even then, however, he is unwilling to learn his lesson, and he fails to see all the opportunities for good around him, continuing to take advantage of those who only wish the best for him. 

Tom has frittered away his money, and he has built up substantial gambling debts. A bailiff intercepts Tom as he is being carried along in a sedan chair, presenting a warrant for his arrest. Now this would normally mean being dragged to jail, but it turns out that Tom has a guardian angel. 

Sarah Young, who we last saw in the first image, happens to be passing by, and she pays her savings to cover Tom's debts. We can tell she is now a milliner from the spilled contents of her bag, a humble yet fine woman who works hard for her money, unlike Tom who only knows how to spend it. 

A man filling a street lantern spills some oil as he look on, reflecting the old symbolic use of anointing as a sign of a blessing. This will sadly be a blessing wasted. A boy sneakily steals Tom's cane during all the excitement. 

At all the times I believe the odds are stacked against me, there is invariably an opportunity for me to somehow make it right. Let me not be like Tom, and let me change my ways, before it is too late. 

William Hogarth, A Rake's Progress IV: The Arrest (1734) 

Love and Jealousy

Luca Ferrari, Allegory of Love and Jealousy (c. 1650) 

The Awakening Conscience

William Holman Hunt, The Awakening Conscience (1853) 

Found

Dante Gabriel Rossetti, Found (c. 1881) 

Thoughts of the Past

John Roddam Spencer Stanhope, Thoughts of the Past (c. 1859) 

Sayings of Heraclitus 76

The Lord whose is the Oracle at Delphi neither utters nor hides his meaning, but shows it by a sign. 

IMAGE: Camillo Miola, The Oracle (1880) 

Tidbits from Montaigne 59

A man must be a little mad if he does not want to be even more stupid. 

—Michel de Montaigne, Essays 3.9 

IMAGE: Jan Matejko, Stanczyk (1862) 

Sayings of Publilius Syrus 130

Whatever you can lose, you should reckon of no account. 

Seneca, Moral Letters 59.1

Letter 59: On pleasure and joy
 
I received great pleasure from your letter; kindly allow me to use these words in their everyday meaning, without insisting upon their Stoic import. For we Stoics hold that pleasure is a vice. Very likely it is a vice; but we are accustomed to use the word when we wish to indicate a happy state of mind.
 
I am aware that if we test words by our formula, even pleasure is a thing of ill repute, and joy can be attained only by the wise. For "joy" is an elation of spirit—of a spirit which trusts in the goodness and truth of its own possessions. 
 
The common usage, however, is that we derive great "joy" from a friend's position as consul, or from his marriage, or from the birth of his child; but these events, so far from being matters of joy, are more often the beginnings of sorrow to come. No, it is a characteristic of real joy that it never ceases, and never changes into its opposite.
 
Accordingly, when our Vergil speaks of
 
“The evil joys of the mind,”
 
his words are eloquent, but not strictly appropriate. For no "joy" can be evil. He has given the name "joy" to pleasures, and has thus expressed his meaning. For he has conveyed the idea that men take delight in their own evil.
 
Nevertheless, I was not wrong in saying that I received great "pleasure" from your letter; for although an ignorant man may derive "joy" if the cause be an honorable one, yet, since his emotion is wayward, and is likely soon to take another direction, I call it "pleasure"; for it is inspired by an opinion concerning a spurious good; it exceeds control and is carried to excess. 

—from Seneca, Moral Letters 59 
 
The opening of this letter already offers me two helpful topics for reflection: the different ways we use words, and the different ways we seek out satisfaction. As is so often the case in philosophy, I will have to confront the former before I can resolve the latter. 
 
It seems like such an obstacle when we employ varying definitions of words, and yet it is quite possible to carefully look behind the clashing signs to the shared reality of what is signified. “What’s in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet. . . . “ 
 
However we might pronounce “tomato”, we still mean the same thing. And so, when we argue about the nature of “happiness”, and all the various terms we further employ in considering its definition, we are often struggling to identify something rather specific with regrettably vague labels. One philosopher says it is pleasure, and another claims it is a state of mind, and another insists it is an activity. We need to unravel how these diverging senses can or cannot overlap. 
 
In everyday usage, for example, people will equate happiness with a sort of feeling, and are then hesitant to ask what kind of feeling it might be, or where it comes from, or whether the feeling is just part of a bigger picture. “I just want to have fun!” Oh dear, I have said that myself, and I would have avoided much grief by taking the time to know what I really intended. 
 
Seneca’s observation is a wonderful case in point. We say something is a “pleasure” or a “joy”, sometimes interchangeably and sometimes with distinctions. Beyond the subtleties of a particular language like Latin, English, or Greek, I should further learn to translate, so to speak, between the peculiar usage of one person and another. I might use a different word, though I can appreciate how we are pointing in the same direction. 
 
Philosophers, at least of the professional sort, do far too little of this, becoming obsessed with their own complex vocabularies, and they then make enemies of anyone who speaks differently than they do. Enough of this. I can’t show compassion for how a man feels if I won’t even tolerate how he expresses himself. 
 
I take special care, therefore, when I read about Seneca’s contrast between “pleasure” and “joy”. Over the years, I have ended up making the exact same distinction, even as I understand why others employ varying standards. 
 
Whatever the case, the fact remains that there is nevertheless a division between the mere sensitive gratification of pleasure and deeper moral fulfillment of joy. One scratches the itch, and the other cures us of the whole infection. Ignorance rushes in, and wisdom gets the lay of the land. 
 
Look to quality here, not just to quantity. Pleasure can be associated with intemperate desire, and is therefore so readily selfish, while joy proceeds for the virtues of the whole person, and it is inseparable from what is good. Indeed, we can see why the Stoics might speak of pleasure in a markedly negative sense, and joy in an unconditionally positive sense. 
 
However we use the words, I should remember why not all feelings, states of mind, or actions are alike, since they ultimately reflect greater or lesser degrees of character. 

—Reflection written in 6/2013 

IMAGE: William Etty, Youth on the Prow, and Pleasure at the Helm (1832) 

Epictetus, Golden Sayings 173

It stamps a man of mean capacity to spend much time on the things of the body, as to be long over bodily exercises, long over eating, long over drinking, long over other bodily functions. 

Rather should these things take the second place, while all your care is directed to the understanding. 

Maxims of Goethe 28

The greatest piece of good fortune is that which corrects our deficiencies and redeems our mistakes. 

IMAGE: Circle of Michelangelo, Allegory of Fortune (c. 1560) 

Jacob Wrestling with the Angel 3

Eugene Delacroix, Jacob Wrestling with the Angel (c. 1860) 

Seneca, Moral Letters 58.10

Few have lasted through extreme old age to death without impairment, and many have lain inert, making no use of themselves. How much more cruel, then, do you suppose it really is to have lost a portion of your life, than to have lost your right to end that life?
 
Do not hear me with reluctance, as if my statement applied directly to you, but weigh what I have to say. It is this: that I shall not abandon old age, if old age preserves me intact for myself, and intact as regards the better part of myself; but if old age begins to shatter my mind, and to pull its various faculties to pieces, if it leaves me, not life, but only the breath of life, I shall rush out of a house that is crumbling and tottering.
 
I shall not avoid illness by seeking death, as long as the illness is curable and does not impede my soul. I shall not lay violent hands upon myself just because I am in pain; for death under such circumstances is defeat. 
 
But if I find out that the pain must always be endured, I shall depart, not because of the pain but because it will be a hindrance to me as regards all my reasons for living. 
 
He who dies just because he is in pain is a weakling, a coward; but he who lives merely to brave out this pain, is a fool. 
 
But I am running on too long; and, besides, there is matter here to fill a day. And how can a man end his life, if he cannot end a letter? So, farewell. This last word you will read with greater pleasure than all my deadly talk about death. Farewell. 

—from Seneca, Moral Letters 58 

 
Some people treat life so cheaply that they will casually buy and sell it for convenience or gratification. Other people are so obsessed with merely existing that they cannot ever permit anyone to die with dignity. Somewhere in between we might recover the sanity to judge a life not by the weight of the circumstances, or by the number of years, but by the measure of the virtues. 
 
As Marcus Aurelius said, if the pain remains tolerable, however intense or lasting, we retain our capacity to live well, for the suffering is still a chance to do good. If, however, the pain is now intolerable, having overwhelmed our reason, then we have already lost our power to act freely, and a man should first possess the right to depart on his own terms. If his conscience is sound, he will make the right choice for himself. 
 
And as Epictetus said, if the house is too full of smoke, then this is a sign that it is time to leave. When only the appearance of life remains, the presence of breath without the guidance of thought, it is both foolish and vain to linger. 
 
Lucilius was still young, and perhaps did not yet need to dwell upon the question, while Seneca was already old, and he knew why he had to prepare himself. Though we might not initially see it, the accumulation of years often demands the greater courage. 
 
I regularly hear people of a rather gruff disposition assume that anyone who freely chooses to die must be a coward; they are usually the same folks who refuse to walk in another man’s shoes, and so they will not offer mercy. What they do not understand is that, as Socrates said, it is wiser to fear the threat of one’s own vices than the approach of death. 
 
What began as a profound reflection on the various senses of “being” did indeed end up as an eminently practical lesson. Knowing how to think is a condition for knowing how to live. That sort of philosophy can’t steer us wrong. 

—Reflection written in 5/2013 

IMAGE: Peter Paul Rubens, The Dying Seneca (c. 1613)