How Is Your Heart?

"How Is Your Heart?" 

Charles Bukowski (1920-1994) 

During my worst times on the park benches, in the jails, or living with whores, I always had this certain contentment— I wouldn't call it happiness— it was more of an inner balance that settled for whatever was occurring and it helped in the factories and when relationships went wrong with the girls. It helped through the wars, and the hangovers, the back alley fights, the hospitals. To awaken in a cheap room in a strange city and pull up the shade— this was the craziest kind of contentment. And to walk across the floor to an old dresser with a cracked mirror— see myself, ugly, grinning at it all. What matters most is how well you walk through the fire.

Stobaeus on Stoic Ethics 11

Consistently with this, the Stoics hold also that the wise man acts with good sense, and dialectically and sympotically and erotically; but the erotic man is so called in two senses, the one who is virtuous and gets his quality from virtue, and the one who is blamed, who gets his quality from vice—a sort of sex fiend. . . . 

And being worthy of sexual love means the same as being worthy of friendship, and not the same as being worthy of being enjoyed; for he who is worthy of virtuous sexual love is properly worthy of sexual love. 

They understand virtue exercised at a symposium as similar to virtue in sexual matters, the one being knowledge that is concerned with what is appropriate at a symposium, namely, of how one should run symposia and how one should drink at them; and the other is knowledge of how to hunt for talented young boys, which encourages them to virtuous knowledge, and in general, knowledge of proper sexual activity. 

That is why they say that the sensible man will engage in sexual activity. And sexual activity just by itself is an indifferent, since at times it also occurs among base men. But sexual love is not desire, nor is it directed at any base object, but is an effort to gain friendship resulting from the appearance of beauty. 

Buckaroo Banzai

I have an entire essay, written some years ago, about how Buckaroo Banzai, one of the weirdest of cult films, has remained a steady anchor in my life. 

I fear the reflection insists upon itself too much, as they say, so I will not ask you to suffer through it. 

Instead, I simply offer you the scene from the end credits, where my favorite characters, all of them complete genius freaks, go for a little walk. 

These are the sorts of friends I always wanted to have. . . . 

Proverbs 1:20-33

[20] Wisdom cries aloud in the street;
in the markets she raises her voice;
[21] on the top of the walls she cries out;
at the entrance of the city gates she speaks:
[22] "How long, O simple ones, will you love being simple?
How long will scoffers delight in their scoffing
and fools hate knowledge?
[23] Give heed to my reproof;
behold, I will pour out my thoughts to you;
I will make my words known to you.
[24] Because I have called and you refused to listen,
have stretched out my hand and no one has heeded,
[25] and you have ignored all my counsel
and would have none of my reproof,
[26] I also will laugh at your calamity;
I will mock when panic strikes you,
[27] when panic strikes you like a storm,
and your calamity comes like a whirlwind,
when distress and anguish come upon you.
[28] Then they will call upon me, but I will not answer;
they will seek me diligently but will not find me.
[29] Because they hated knowledge
and did not choose the fear of the Lord,
[30] would have none of my counsel,
and despised all my reproof,
[31] therefore they shall eat the fruit of their way
and be sated with their own devices.
[32] For the simple are killed by their turning away,
and the complacence of fools destroys them;
[33] but he who listens to me will dwell secure
and will be at ease, without dread of evil." 

IMAGE: Icon of Holy Wisdom, Vologda (16th century) 

Seneca, Moral Letters 72.2

Nevertheless, I ought to accomplish something even on days like these—days which are fully employed, and indeed from morning until night. For there is never a moment when fresh employments will not come along; we sow them, and for this reason several spring up from one. 
 
Then, too, we keep adjourning our own cases, saying: "As soon as I am done with this, I shall settle down to hard work," or: "If I ever set this troublesome matter in order, I shall devote myself to study." 
 
But the study of philosophy is not to be postponed until you have leisure; everything else is to be neglected in order that we may attend to philosophy, for no amount of time is long enough for it, even though our lives be prolonged from boyhood to the uttermost bounds of time allotted to man. 
 
It makes little difference whether you leave philosophy out altogether or study it intermittently; for it does not stay as it was when you dropped it, but, because its continuity has been broken, it goes back to the position in which it was at the beginning, like things which fly apart when they are stretched taut. 

—from Seneca, Moral Letters 72 
 
I’m afraid I quickly lose friends whenever I dare to say this, but the sad fact is that we think it makes us look important to always be busy, and most of what we consider to be critical work is entirely unnecessary. This is hardly a modern problem, because Seneca knew it just as well. 
 
For every minute spent achieving something good, an hour is wasted to attend a meeting or to fill out the paperwork. Unless you are very fortunate, your workplace probably has a dozen folks who do nothing, while one fellow picks up the slack. I endure it at the college, I observe it at any construction site, and I dread it at the DMV. 
 
Even when I am occupied with a routine duty, I make a point to focus on the meaning and the value of my worldly efforts, however humble or mundane they may be. Philosophy is always with me, not with the awe of profound contemplation, but with the immediate comfort of a driving purpose, a way to keep me sane during a long day. 
 
By all means, put a roof over your head and food on the table, yet remain constantly aware of how accumulating ever more wealth and status is not an excuse for ignoring philosophy. They tell you to slave away for the whole week, and then maybe recharge for a bit on the weekend, when the best way to arouse the soul is to understand, from the get-go, why life is worth living. Philosophy will do that for you, not your paycheck. 
 
Philosophy must be present in the proccess of the whole, not merely given occasional lip service. In the business world, they warn us not to “drop the ball”, though it is far more important not to interrupt the flow of mindfulness, for once we lose the force of conviction, it’s awfully hard to start it up again. There should always be pauses in the work of the day, though there should never be pauses in our self-awareness. 
 
Since philosophy is actually the highest priority, providing the very measure of benefit and harm to everything else, she must be attended to right now, not tomorrow. In claiming otherwise, the busybody has already assumed certain values, even as he has obviously not arrived at them through any sound reasoning. He is flying blind. 

—Reflection written in 9/2013 

The Art of Peace 110

The Divine does not like to be shut up in a building. The Divine likes to be out in the open. 

It is right here in this very body. Each one of us is a miniature Universe, a living shrine. 

Seneca, Moral Letters 72.1

Letter 72: On business as the enemy of philosophy
 
The subject concerning which you question me was once clear to my mind, and required no thought, so thoroughly had I mastered it. But I have not tested my memory of it for some time, and therefore it does not readily come back to me. 
 
I feel that I have suffered the fate of a book whose rolls have stuck together by disuse; my mind needs to be unrolled, and whatever has been stored away there ought to be examined from time to time, so that it may be ready for use when occasion demands. 
 
Let us therefore put this subject off for the present; for it demands much labor and much care. As soon as I can hope to stay for any length of time in the same place, I shall then take your question in hand. 
 
For there are certain subjects about which you can write even while travelling in a gig, and there are also subjects which need a study-chair, and quiet, and seclusion. 

—from Seneca, Moral Letters 72 
 
Since we no longer have copies of the letters from Lucilius, I can only speculate on the original inquiry here, though it still offers the perfect segue into a reflection on keeping our knowledge fresh and vital. 
 
I have been a voracious reader since I was a young pup, and yet I am familiar with that dreadful feeling of slowly forgetting so much of what I had once understood. If it is indeed a good book, I must return to it regularly, refreshing my appreciation for its truth and its beauty, reveling in every tiny detail, so it may again inspire me to live with enthusiasm. 
 
All knowledge is like that, for it will atrophy as soon as we cease to apply it. While most will assume that philosophy is a luxury for idle intellectuals, an abstract theory to be left behind when returning to the real world, Seneca stands firm with the perennial common sense that wisdom is perfected in daily practice. 
 
What use is that old guitar, gathering dust in the back of your closet, the one you bought in hopes becoming a rock god? What use is that noble education, wasting away in the back of your brain, now that you crunch numbers and lick the boss’s boots? Instead of being an escape from the world, philosophy, properly conceived, is your very guide to the world. 
 
One of the difficulties with philosophy, however, is that she does demand your complete loyalty, and she doesn’t take kindly to being neglected in favor of your menial tasks. There is the sort of thinking you can do while you are busy with your chores, and then there is the sort of thinking you can only do in serene concentration. 
 
Now while the world will tell to put your career first, and any quest for wisdom second, Nature will always firmly remind you to get your priorities in order. Philosophy informs absolutely every judgment you make, and so she should always remain your true love—being a rich man will be pointless if you are not first a good man. To be soundly principled is to be genuinely pragmatic. 

—Reflection written in 9/2013 

Sayings of Ramakrishna 255

Sin, like quicksilver, can never be kept concealed. 

When a man takes calomel, sooner or later it is sure to show itself in the shape of eruptions on the skin. 

Seneca, Moral Letters 71.14

That which is short of perfection must necessarily be unsteady, at one time progressing, at another slipping or growing faint; and it will surely slip back unless it keeps struggling ahead; for if a man slackens at all in zeal and faithful application, he must retrograde. No one can resume his progress at the point where he left off. 
 
Therefore, let us press on and persevere. There remains much more of the road than we have put behind us; but the greater part of progress is the desire to progress. I fully understand what this task is. It is a thing which I desire, and I desire it with all my heart. I see that you also have been aroused and are hastening with great zeal towards infinite beauty. 
 
Let us, then, hasten; only on these terms will life be a boon to us; otherwise, there is delay, and indeed disgraceful delay, while we busy ourselves with revolting things. Let us see to it that all time belongs to us. 
 
This, however, cannot be unless first of all our own selves begin to belong to us. And when will it be our privilege to despise both kinds of fortune? When will it be our privilege, after all the passions have been subdued and brought under our own control, to utter the words "I have conquered!"? 
 
Do you ask me whom I have conquered? Neither the Persians, nor the far-off Medes, nor any warlike race that lies beyond the Dahae; not these, but greed, ambition, and the fear of death that has conquered the conquerors of the world. Farewell. 

—from Seneca, Moral Letters 71 

 
I have a weakness for an old 1990’s film starring Bill Murray, called What About Bob? It contains his trademark humor, with just a touch of dark comedy, and I find myself squirming whenever I watch it, much as I do from the painful shenanigans of Fawlty Towers. 
 
Yet what has stuck with me most over the years is a far more serious lesson: while Dr. Leo Marvin is an arrogant self-promoter, he has inadvertently stumbled across the wisdom of “baby steps”. 
 
To this day, whenever I am faced with a challenge that seems insurmountable, the phrase “baby steps” pops into my head. I can then laugh a little, which is of far greater help than I might think, and I can then also remember how just making it out the door is the first stage in managing the rest of my day. 
 
It’s silly, it’s hackneyed, but gosh darn it, it works. Break down the progress into manageable chunks, so that the whole does not appear as terrifying. When Seneca asks me to press on and to persevere, I need not feel intimidated by the vastness of the task. 
 
As much as I may fall back during those moments of weakness, the slightest bit of headway is a worthy achievement. A part of the trick involves a constant commitment to improvement, however slight, since maintaining a momentum keeps me from passively yielding to the prevailing wind. 
 
Once I stop being mindful, I have let my circumstances rule my actions, and a depth of consistency is more important here than a burst of intensity. 
 
Slowly but surely, my model for success in this life has shrunk drastically in its breadth, while it has grown substantially in its depth. It has long been clear that I will never become a bigwig or a wheeler-dealer, and that has probably been for the best, because it has cleared a path for what is truly significant.
 
Today, I intend to tame my resentment, and to offer kindness over callousness, and to apply a soothing balm for my grief. If I can address those little things, I have mastered myself. 

—Reflection written in 9/2013 

Sayings of Heraclitus 83

For what thought or wisdom have they? 

They follow the poets and take the crowd as their teacher, knowing not that there are many bad and few good. 

IMAGE: Aegidius Sadeler, Wisdom Conquers Ignorance (c. 1600) 

Stoic Snippets 252

Socrates used to call the opinions of the many by the name of Lamiae—bugbears to frighten children. 

—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 11.23 

Dhammapada 390

It advantages a Brahmana not a little if he holds his mind back from the pleasures of life; when all wish to injure has vanished, pain will cease. 

Seneca, Moral Letters 71.13

The matter can be imparted quickly and in very few words: 
 
"Virtue is the only good; at any rate there is no good without virtue; and virtue itself is situated in our nobler part, that is, the rational part." 
 
And what will this virtue be? A true and never-swerving judgment. For therefrom will spring all mental impulses, and by its agency every external appearance that stirs our impulses will be clarified. 
 
It will be in keeping with this judgment to judge all things that have been colored by virtue as goods, and as equal goods. 
 
Bodily goods are, to be sure, good for the body; but they are not absolutely good. There will indeed be some value in them; but they will possess no genuine merit, for they will differ greatly; some will be less, others greater. 
 
And we are constrained to acknowledge that there are great differences among the very followers of wisdom. 
 
One man has already made so much progress that he dares to raise his eyes and look Fortune in the face, but not persistently, for his eyes soon drop, dazzled by her overwhelming splendor; another has made so much progress that he is able to match glances with her—that is, unless he has already reached the summit and is full of confidence. 

—from Seneca, Moral Letters 71 
 
“But what about making money? Don’t I need to do that?”
 
You may stumble across a heap of cash, or you may spend your entire life begging on the street corner. In either case, it will have nothing to do with you, and everything to do with your circumstances. In either case, the value of whatever you happen to receive is measured by the content of your character. 
 
“But it will be okay if other people like me, right?” 
 
Perhaps you will be praised, and perhaps you will be scorned. Some of the worst people will die surrounded by a crowd of adoring fans, and some of the best people will die completely alone. How you choose to face such possibilities will determine your worth. In any event, none of it will matter one bit once you’re gone. 
 
“Come on now, you have to be more realistic!” 
 
What do you take to be most “real” in this world? There’s the rub! The greater things will give meaning and purpose to the lesser things. The Stoic looks at life from the top down, while the lemming looks at life from the bottom up. One man seeks on the inside, while another man grasps at the outside. 
 
It pains me to admit it, but I have not had a single problem that couldn’t have been addressed immediately by modifying my judgments about benefit and harm. What held me back, each and every time, was a failure to connect what I knew in theory to how I felt in practice, and a desperate hope that I could cling to the gratifying thing without doing the right thing. Virtue makes everything else better, while vice makes everything worse: the quicker I learn this basic rule, the closer I will come to peace of mind. 
 
Even as the pleasures of the body will increase or decrease, and I will always be apprehensive about losing them, the goods of the soul are already complete in their integrity, and they can never be taken away from me, as long as I choose to retain them. The grand deeds of the rich man are no greater than the humble deeds of the poor man, for total human excellence admit of no further improvement. 
 
Nevertheless, we approach this perfection in stages, such that some are more skilled than others at confronting the whims of Fortune with the constancy of their own virtues. I have now gained more practice in looking away, though I still struggle greatly with looking her directly in the face for more than a moment. I feel dizzy as she spins her wheel, but I am learning to keep my head. 

—Reflection written in 9/2013 

IMAGE: Hans Sebald Beham, Fortuna (c. 1641) 

Tidbits from Montaigne 66

He who remembers the evils he has undergone, and those that have threatened him, and the slight causes that have changed him from one state to another, prepares himself in that way for future changes and for recognizing his condition. 

The life of Caesar has no more to show us than our own; an emperor's or an ordinary man's, it is still a life subject to all human accidents. 

—Michel de Montaigne, Essays 3.13 

IMAGE: Karl von Piloty, The Murder of Caesar (1865) 

Epictetus, Golden Sayings 180

It is best to share with your attendants what is going forward, both in the labor of preparation and in the enjoyment of the feast itself. 

If such a thing be difficult at the time, recollect that you who are not weary are being served by those that are; you who are eating and drinking by those who do neither; you who are talking by those who are silent; you who are at ease by those who are under constraint. 

Thus no sudden wrath will betray you into unreasonable conduct, nor will you behave harshly by irritating another. 

IMAGE: Giovanni Battista Tiepolo, The Banquet of Cleopatra (1744) 

Jacob Wrestling with the Angel 10

Bartholomeus Breenbergh, Jacob Wrestles with the Angel (1639) 

Seneca, Moral Letters 71.12

And now I have reached the point to which your patient waiting summons me. You must not think that our human virtue transcends Nature; the wise man will tremble, will feel pain, will turn pale, for all these are sensations of the body. 
 
Where, then, is the abode of utter distress, of that which is truly an evil? In the other part of us, no doubt, if it is the mind that these trials drag down, force to a confession of its servitude, and cause to regret its existence. 
 
The wise man, indeed, overcomes Fortune by his virtue, but many who profess wisdom are sometimes frightened by the most unsubstantial threats. And at this stage it is a mistake on our part to make the same demands upon the wise man and upon the learner. 
 
I still exhort myself to do that which I recommend; but my exhortations are not yet followed. And even if this were the case, I should not have these principles so ready for practice, or so well trained, that they would rush to my assistance in every crisis. 
 
Just as wool takes up certain colors at once, while there are others which it will not absorb unless it is soaked and steeped in them many times; so other systems of doctrine can be immediately applied by men's minds after once being accepted, but this system of which I speak, unless it has gone deep and has sunk in for a long time, and has not merely colored but thoroughly permeated the soul, does not fulfill any of its promises. 

—from Seneca, Moral Letters 71 
 
I notice how certain people have an almost violent reaction when I mention anything Stoic, and at first, I attributed this to their misapprehension that Stoicism is somehow cold and heartless. With time, however, I also sensed something else at work, a fear that they are being called out for their own moral failings. 
 
I find it odd that those who freely reject virtue as the highest human good would be offended by a reminder of their actual priorities, but I suppose they still wish to retain the appearance of a conscience, even if they choose not to exercise it when the going gets tough. They grow angry because they sense a contradiction within themselves. 
 
For myself, I find that I can no longer afford to hide my faults away, and while it may briefly cause me discomfort, I am increasingly grateful for the chance to learn about how I might become more genuine and sincere. I am not immune to the turmoil of the flesh, for there are still those parts of me that insist on remaining at war. 
 
The body speaks its own language, and it expresses itself on its own terms; it does not, however, know what it does, or reflect upon why it acts, which remains the domain of the mind. I am mistaken if I blame my desires for my troubles, appealing to a creaky dualism as an excuse for my hypocrisy, since the problem is in the sleepy submission of my judgments to the impressions alone. 
 
If I feel impatient with anyone who is struggling, I think of a time when I was helping an older Jesuit from Italy learn to read English. He stumbled over the simplest of words, and yet I understood that completely, since he was just a beginner at the task. I am much like that as well, when it comes to putting my character in charge of my appetites, which is a far more critical habit for any man to develop. 
 
Now why do I maintain the right to cast aspersions on any fellow apprentice? Most of us are fumbling about, still trying to learn the ropes, and only a very few have attained the rank of master. 
 
Good habits are acquired slowly, and bad habits have a stubborn way of sticking around after they are no longer welcome. It will be the shallow philosophies, which don’t even deserve the name, that will promise you instant results, while the sound principles, which completely rebuild the soul from the inside out, take their sweet time to seep in. 
 
I must remain patient when attempting to thoroughly dye the cloth. 

—Reflection written in 9/2013 

Sayings of Publilius Syrus 165

Even when there is no law, there is conscience. 

IMAGE: Maria Wiik, Guilty Conscience (1886) 

Seneca, Moral Letters 71.11

And so, when one has just begun, or is on one's way to the heights and is cultivating virtue, or even if one is drawing near the perfect good but has not yet put the finishing touch upon it, one will retrograde at times and there will be a certain slackening of mental effort. 
 
For such a man has not yet traversed the doubtful ground; he is still standing in slippery places. 
 
But the happy man, whose virtue is complete, loves himself most of all when his bravery has been submitted to the severest test, and when he not only, endures but welcomes that which all other men regard with fear, if it is the price which he must pay for the performance of a duty which honor imposes, and he greatly prefers to have men say of him: "how much more noble!" rather than "how much more lucky!" 

—from Seneca, Moral Letters 71 
 
The cynic will claim that the moral relapse is a proof of how virtue is impossible, and that we will forever be subject to debauchery, even as the man of conviction will continue to see it as yet another opportunity for improvement. I am always deeply frustrated when I fall down, once again, but I have learned to get back on my feet immediately, for hesitation merely breeds further doubt. 
 
While it may feel like the torment of Sisyphus, with no end in sight, I remind myself how the goal is not somewhere up there, at the top of a hill, and is instead to be found in the formation of my inner character, a reward that seeks nothing beyond the excellence of the task itself. Understood rightly, there is a profound joy in doing what I know to be right, regardless of whether anyone happens to be watching, or pats me on the back. 
 
On occasion, my wife will suddenly take note of some thankless task I am performing, and she will suddenly say, “You’re a good man.” 
 
I will object to this vehemently, and she assumes I am just humblebragging, not realizing how painfully aware I am of my own weakness. I never call myself a philosopher, only a student of philosophy, and I never claim virtue, only an aspiration to virtue. I am a constant work in progress. If I ever became sufficiently wise, or genuinely honorable, I would gladly take on such titles. Today is not yet that day. 
 
Where is the merit in being lucky? It has nothing to do with me. If, however, I can manage to make a sincere effort, I have nobility in my sights, and my achievement, as worthless as it seems, is a sign of growth. Boasting is never required, because the braggart is concerned with appearances, not with content. 
 
I see red when professionals, especially academics, list their impressive credentials, or refer to one another as “esteemed”. As Marcus Aurelius, would say, stop with the talking—show me with your deeds, in the face of the most severe hardship, and there will be the only proof needed. 
 
While my peers roll their eyes at poems by Kipling, I still find the deepest inspiration:
 
If you can make one heap of all your winnings 
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss, 
And lose, and start again at your beginnings 
And never breathe a word about your loss; 
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew 
To serve your turn long after they are gone, 
And so hold on when there is nothing in you 
Except the Will which says to them: ‘Hold on!' 

 
—Reflection written in 9/2013 

IMAGE: Titian, Sisyphus (c. 1549) 

Things That Make You Go Hmmmm . . .

Last night, someone jokingly observed how if all the people who said they were our "friends", busily "hoping and praying" for us, simply subscribed to the Liam Milburn Substack page, for $5 a month, our family's money problems would immediately disappear. 

At first, everyone laughed out loud. 

Then, there was an awkward silence. 

It was funny on one level, and deeply sad on another. 

And after the initial impressions, it is always best to be at peace with the way things are, instead of worrying and scheming about how we imagine they should be . . . 

Does anyone still remember C+C Music Factory? ;-) 

Maxims of Goethe 57

So obstinately contradictory is man that you cannot compel him to his advantage, yet he yields before everything that forces him to his hurt. 

IMAGE: Gustave Courbet, Fox Caught in a Trap (1860) 

Delphic Maxims 66

Κριτὴν γνῶθι 

Know the judge 

IMAGE: Francisco Goya, The Inquisition Tribunal (1819) 

Netherlandish Proverbs 4

"To bang one's head against a brick wall." 

To waste one's time on an impossible task. 

Seneca, Moral Letters 71.10

We must pass judgment concerning great matters with greatness of soul; otherwise, that which is really our fault will seem to be their fault. 
 
So it is that certain objects which are perfectly straight, when sunk in water appear to the onlooker as bent or broken off. It matters not only what you see, but with what eyes you see it; our souls are too dull of vision to perceive the truth. 
 
But give me an unspoiled and sturdy-minded young man; he will pronounce more fortunate one who sustains on unbending shoulders the whole weight of adversity, who stands out superior to Fortune. It is not a cause for wonder that one is not tossed about when the weather is calm; reserve your wonderment for cases where a man is lifted up when all others sink, and keeps his footing when all others are prostrate. 
 
What element of evil is there in torture and in the other things which we call hardships? It seems to me that there is this evil—that the mind sags, and bends, and collapses. 
 
But none of these things can happen to the sage; he stands erect under any load. Nothing can subdue him; nothing that must be endured annoys him. For he does not complain that he has been struck by that which can strike any man. He knows his own strength; he knows that he was born to carry burdens. 
 
I do not withdraw the wise man from the category of man, nor do I deny to him the sense of pain as though he were a rock that has no feelings at all. 
 
I remember that he is made up of two parts: the one part is irrational—it is this that may be bitten, burned, or hurt; the other part is rational—it is this which holds resolutely to opinions, is courageous, and unconquerable. In the latter is situated man's Supreme Good. Before this is completely attained, the mind wavers in uncertainty; only when it is fully achieved is the mind fixed and steady. 

—from Seneca, Moral Letters 71 
 
Though I obviously did not always take it to heart, I was still raised with a sense that greatness was within the qualities of the soul, and so I possessed a certain resistance to the status quo of a secular and consumer society. When they told me I needed to acquire as much power and influence as possible, I had a hunch that something was seriously amiss. 
 
If I am ever to improve myself, I must look behind the immediate impressions. Things present themselves according to their own natures, and yet my judgments about them are often distorted. When they told me I could never find a certainty beyond my doubts, I knew I had to work on how I went about actively seeing, and to stop blaming the world for being unintelligible or unfair. 
 
So, at that moment when I suppose that success involves getting my ducks in a row, I will remember why it is actually about getting my thoughts in a row. “Winning” riches and fame is hardly an achievement, when compared with a willingness to endure hardship for the sake of character. The former is about hiding behind the circumstances, while the latter is about rising above the circumstances. 
 
We usually say that a man has “failed” when he is subject to poverty, disease, or obscurity. I will rather insist that the victory depends upon maintaining his integrity, regardless of the conditions, and you will quickly recognize virtue or vice by his responses to fortune. 
 
I regularly hear scholars arguing over whether the true Stoic “sage” can actually exist, or if he is just a fictional ideal. I am wary of judging folks too quickly, but I suspect I have known a few people who have at least come quite close, if not fit the role completely. The mistake is in assuming that a sage will be absolutely perfect in every way, when it is only necessary for him to have the upper hand over his worst instincts. 
 
The sage will feel just as intensely as the intemperate man, and perhaps even more intensely. He will continue to make mistakes, and be subject to quirks and whims, but he will employ all events as opportunities for improvement—in this he will remain constant, by uniting his understanding to his actions. 
 

Socrates or Diogenes were surely frustrating fellows, and they must have seemed rather troublesome to those in comfortable places. While they may not always have been agreeable, they always endeavored to be good, seeking wisdom in all things, and that is what I will call a sage, a man who is impervious to harm as long as he puts his mind to it. 

—Reflection written in 9/2013 

IMAGE: Giovanni Benedetto Castiglione, The Fable of Diogenes, Looking with a Lantern for a Good Man (c. 1650) 

Stockdale on Stoicism 46

Howie Rutledge, one of the four of us with more than four years, went back to school and got a master's degree after we got home. His thesis concentrated on the question of whether long-term erosion of human purpose was more effectively achieved by torture or isolation. 

He mailed out questionnaires to us (who had also taken the ropes at least ten times), and others with records of extreme prison abuse. 

He found that those who had less than two years' isolation and plenty of torture said torture was the trump card; those with more than two years' isolation and plenty of torture said that, for long-term modification of behavior, isolation was the way to go. 

From my viewpoint, you can get used to repeated rope torture—there are some tricks for minimizing your losses in that game. 

But keep a man, even a very strong-willed man, in isolation for three or more years, and he starts looking for a friend, any friend, regardless of nationality or ideology. 

—from James B. Stockdale, Master of My Fate: A Stoic Philosopher in a Hanoi Prison 

IMAGE: Jacques-Louis David, Psyche Abandoned (c. 1795) 

Aesop's Fables 78

The Horse and the Ass 

A Horse and an Ass were traveling together, the Horse prancing along in its fine trappings, the Ass carrying with difficulty the heavy weight in its panniers. 

"I wish I were you," sighed the Ass; "nothing to do and well fed, and all that fine harness upon you." 

Next day, however, there was a great battle, and the Horse was wounded to death in the final charge of the day. 

His friend, the Ass, happened to pass by shortly afterwards and found him on the point of death. 

"I was wrong," said the Ass: 

"Better humble security than gilded danger." 

Sayings of Ramakrishna 254

Hari (from hri, to steal) means "He who steals our hearts," and Haribala means "Hari is our strength."  

Seneca, Moral Letters 71.9

"What," you say, "do you call reclining at a banquet and submitting to torture equally good?" 
 
Does this seem surprising to you? You may be still more surprised at the following—that reclining at a banquet is an evil, while reclining on the rack is a good, if the former act is done in a shameful, and the latter in an honorable manner. 
 
It is not the material that makes these actions good or bad; it is the virtue. All acts in which virtue has disclosed itself are of the same measure and value. 
 
At this moment the man who measures the souls of all men by his own is shaking his fist in my face because I hold that there is a parity between the goods involved in the case of one who passes sentence honorably, and of one who suffers sentence honorably; or because I hold that there is a parity between the goods of one who celebrates a triumph, and of one who, unconquered in spirit, is carried before the victor's chariot. 
 
For such critics think that whatever they themselves cannot do, is not done; they pass judgment on virtue in the light of their own weaknesses. 
 
Why do you marvel if it helps a man, and on occasion even pleases him, to be burned, wounded, slain, or bound in prison? To a luxurious man, a simple life is a penalty; to a lazy man, work is punishment; the dandy pities the diligent man; to the slothful, studies are torture. 
 
Similarly, we regard those things with respect to which we are all infirm of disposition, as hard and beyond endurance, forgetting what a torment it is to many men to abstain from wine or to be routed from their beds at break of day. These actions are not essentially difficult; it is we ourselves that are soft and flabby. 

—from Seneca, Moral Letters 71 
 
My years of training in Scholastic distinctions, which the critic might condemn as mere quibbling, still serve me well in my daily Stoic practices. If you express shock and outrage at the claim that a banquet and torture can be equally good, I will do you one better, and I will follow Seneca in observing how the fine dining could actually end up becoming far worse. 
 
This can only be the case if merit is first in the form of the act, not from the matter of the act, such that the virtue or the vice within the agent is what determines the good or the evil of the circumstances. What the Stoic tradition sometimes calls “happiness on the rack” is made possible by a reappraisal of values, one grounded in character over utility. 
 
I have often been at my worst in the lap of luxury, and at my best during intense affliction. The reverse can also be the case, hinging upon my disposition, and it really depends on whether my thoughts, words, and deeds are honorable or shameful. The older folks used to speak about being a good man in a storm, so I will coin the opposite phrase for my own purposes, a bad man on calm seas. 
 
Though I have a profound reverence for Aristotle, and I continue to rely on his insights for my sanity, I have long been concerned by his insistence that certain external conditions, at least a bare minimum, are required for happiness. Even when I first read the Nicomachean Ethics, I wondered if we were considering such necessities too narrowly: cannot any situation be an occasion for virtue, however severe? 
 
When something is taken away, I am also offered the chance to live with excellence, just as much as when something is given. Sickness becomes as conducive as health, and loneliness as much as friendship. 
 
I may be taking too much inspiration from the broader perspective of Aquinas, but my Stoic experience also suggests to me that Aristotle was still confusing principles and preferences: as much as a part of me may want to be rich, I certainly don’t have to be. 
 
Indeed, our limitations usually come from our inner attitudes, not from our external circumstances. Do not believe the cynical man, when he tells you that you can’t possibly be virtuous, because he is merely talking about his own shortcomings. He cannot conceive of how pain can motivate him, or how poverty can strengthen him, or how rejection can inspire him. His enslavement to gratification is his greatest burden, and he would be liberated from it in a moment if he freed his judgments. 
 
It is remarkable how losing the very option to be lazy, luxurious, and lustful opens up whole new avenues for living. What once felt compulsory is now rightly seen as a diversion from the task at hand. If you don’t trust me, I hope that you will soon learn it for yourself, even if it is initially terrifying. 

—Reflection written in 9/2013