In that sense Socrates knew how to play the game.
“What do you mean?”
He knew how to play in the court. “Tell me, Anytus,” said he, “in what way you say that I disbelieve in God. What do you think that divinities are? Are they not either children of the gods, or the mixed offspring of men and gods?”
And when Anytus agreed, he said, “Who then do you think can believe in the existence of mules and not in asses?” He was like one playing at ball.
What then was the ball that he played with? Life, imprisonment, exile, taking poison, being deprived of his wife, leaving his children orphans. These were the things he played with, but none the less he played and tossed the ball with balance.
So we ought to play the game, so to speak, with all possible care and skill, but treat the ball itself as indifferent. A man must certainly cultivate skill in regard to some outward things: he need not accept a thing for its own sake, but he should show his skill in regard to it, whatever it be.
“What do you mean?”
He knew how to play in the court. “Tell me, Anytus,” said he, “in what way you say that I disbelieve in God. What do you think that divinities are? Are they not either children of the gods, or the mixed offspring of men and gods?”
And when Anytus agreed, he said, “Who then do you think can believe in the existence of mules and not in asses?” He was like one playing at ball.
What then was the ball that he played with? Life, imprisonment, exile, taking poison, being deprived of his wife, leaving his children orphans. These were the things he played with, but none the less he played and tossed the ball with balance.
So we ought to play the game, so to speak, with all possible care and skill, but treat the ball itself as indifferent. A man must certainly cultivate skill in regard to some outward things: he need not accept a thing for its own sake, but he should show his skill in regard to it, whatever it be.
—from Epictetus, Discourses 2.5
A game need not be taken as a frivolous thing, or as a boastful thing. The ways in which we play are reflections of the ways in which we live, and while I know it makes me sound like an old fuddy-duddy, I remain convinced that good sportsmanship is nothing but a more casual expression of genuine character.
There is also the wonderful association of finding an innocent pleasure in a game, just as we should find the deepest joy in life as a whole. Now we often think of Socrates as a rather serious fellow, and yet, with the notable exception of a few moments in righteous indignation, I observe that he had such a playful personality. Yes, he went through life as if were like a game, in all the best senses.
Most importantly, Socrates understood what was at stake in the game, and how the circumstances of his life were just vehicles for the improvement of his soul. He knew how to toss the ball, and he was adept at estimating how it might be thrown back. In any case, victory in the game was for him rather different than it is for most of us. We usually expect fame and fortune, while he only sought decency and integrity.
You may look at the scorecard, but I, for one, choose not to be so interested in the numbers. Anyone who plays with virtue, and who is happy to leave the ball wherever it eventually falls, can be considered a victor in this life.
We’re all expected to have a certain hushed reverence for Socrates, though I have found that most people, when pushed, will admit that they can’t stand the fellow. Yes, he can seem rather cocky and irreverent, but what really makes us so uncomfortable is that he was sincerely indifferent about all the things we are taught to cherish so deeply. Money, or reputation, or a long life were not the be-all and end-all of his existence.
A game need not be taken as a frivolous thing, or as a boastful thing. The ways in which we play are reflections of the ways in which we live, and while I know it makes me sound like an old fuddy-duddy, I remain convinced that good sportsmanship is nothing but a more casual expression of genuine character.
There is also the wonderful association of finding an innocent pleasure in a game, just as we should find the deepest joy in life as a whole. Now we often think of Socrates as a rather serious fellow, and yet, with the notable exception of a few moments in righteous indignation, I observe that he had such a playful personality. Yes, he went through life as if were like a game, in all the best senses.
Most importantly, Socrates understood what was at stake in the game, and how the circumstances of his life were just vehicles for the improvement of his soul. He knew how to toss the ball, and he was adept at estimating how it might be thrown back. In any case, victory in the game was for him rather different than it is for most of us. We usually expect fame and fortune, while he only sought decency and integrity.
You may look at the scorecard, but I, for one, choose not to be so interested in the numbers. Anyone who plays with virtue, and who is happy to leave the ball wherever it eventually falls, can be considered a victor in this life.
We’re all expected to have a certain hushed reverence for Socrates, though I have found that most people, when pushed, will admit that they can’t stand the fellow. Yes, he can seem rather cocky and irreverent, but what really makes us so uncomfortable is that he was sincerely indifferent about all the things we are taught to cherish so deeply. Money, or reputation, or a long life were not the be-all and end-all of his existence.
This makes us squirm, because he is calling us out, like the coach who has just caught us at cheating. We know that he knows that we can be so much better. Virtue is the skill of realizing when to take a hold of the ball, and when to let it go.
—Reflection written in 6/2001
No comments:
Post a Comment