M. But we will speak of this another time: at present it is sufficient not to attribute our misery to the loss of our friends, nor to love them more than, if they themselves could be sensible of our conduct, they would approve of, or at least not more than we do ourselves.
Now as to what they say, that some are not at all appeased by our consolations; and, moreover, as to what they add, that the comforters themselves acknowledge they are miserable when fortune varies the attack and falls on them—in both these cases the solution is easy: for the fault here is not in nature, but in our own folly; and much may be said against folly.
But men who do not admit of consolation seem to bespeak misery for themselves; and they who cannot bear their misfortunes with that temper which they recommend to others are not more faulty in this particular than most other persons; for we see that covetous men find fault with others who are covetous, as do the vainglorious with those who appear too wholly devoted to the pursuit of glory. For it is the peculiar characteristic of folly to perceive the vices of others, but to forget its own.
But since we find that grief is removed by length of time, we have the greatest proof that the strength of it depends not merely on time, but on the daily consideration of it. For if the cause continues the same, and the man be the same, how can there be any alteration in the grief, if there is no change in what occasioned the grief, nor in him who grieves?
Therefore, it is from daily reflecting that there is no real evil in the circumstance for which you grieve, and not from the length of time, that you procure a remedy for your grief.
Now as to what they say, that some are not at all appeased by our consolations; and, moreover, as to what they add, that the comforters themselves acknowledge they are miserable when fortune varies the attack and falls on them—in both these cases the solution is easy: for the fault here is not in nature, but in our own folly; and much may be said against folly.
But men who do not admit of consolation seem to bespeak misery for themselves; and they who cannot bear their misfortunes with that temper which they recommend to others are not more faulty in this particular than most other persons; for we see that covetous men find fault with others who are covetous, as do the vainglorious with those who appear too wholly devoted to the pursuit of glory. For it is the peculiar characteristic of folly to perceive the vices of others, but to forget its own.
But since we find that grief is removed by length of time, we have the greatest proof that the strength of it depends not merely on time, but on the daily consideration of it. For if the cause continues the same, and the man be the same, how can there be any alteration in the grief, if there is no change in what occasioned the grief, nor in him who grieves?
Therefore, it is from daily reflecting that there is no real evil in the circumstance for which you grieve, and not from the length of time, that you procure a remedy for your grief.
—from Cicero, Tusculan Disputations 3.30
With Cicero, I will not dwell upon the error of making the value of our own lives depend entirely on the presence of those we love; I have already spilled enough ink on the matter, and it is only important to walk away from such a disaster by recognizing why a healthy love will never require self-sabotage.
It is indeed true that many of us will not respond well to any comforting, and that many of us will expect others to recover from grief while we remain forlorn about our own losses, yet this in no way indicates that Nature herself is the cause of our desperation. It is easier and more convenient to blame the arrangement of the whole world than to make even the slightest adjustment within our own hearts and minds, though the effort required for the latter is actually far less than the gloom that follows from the former.
No, I must blame my own folly. This is a wonderful word, sadly ignored in our day, since it pinpoints how we neglect a clarity of thinking in favor of rushing headlong into the first feelings to come our way.
We are quick to blame people for being either insane or stupid, even as folly is neither of these, and it is much more common. The madman has lost control over his reason, and the idiot has a limited capacity to reason, but the fool is quite able to think for himself, and he nevertheless chooses to do otherwise. While there is no fault in the lunatic or the imbecile, there is great fault in the man of folly.
At the same time, we also insist on the saying about time healing all wounds, forgetting, however, the reasons why this happens to be true. It is the amount of deliberate attention we apply to our grief, not the days, weeks, months, or years that may have passed from the moment of the loss. We suffer less as we gradually change our attitudes, not just by the ticking of the clock.
I have often wondered why I grapple with a sense of betrayal long after the original event, and why others seem to recover from such a shock in a heartbeat. Yes, the intensity of the experience surely has something to do with it, but the bigger issue is my unwillingness to live and to learn. I can maintain an informed conscience and still have sufficient confidence in my power to stand against Fortune.
With Cicero, I will not dwell upon the error of making the value of our own lives depend entirely on the presence of those we love; I have already spilled enough ink on the matter, and it is only important to walk away from such a disaster by recognizing why a healthy love will never require self-sabotage.
It is indeed true that many of us will not respond well to any comforting, and that many of us will expect others to recover from grief while we remain forlorn about our own losses, yet this in no way indicates that Nature herself is the cause of our desperation. It is easier and more convenient to blame the arrangement of the whole world than to make even the slightest adjustment within our own hearts and minds, though the effort required for the latter is actually far less than the gloom that follows from the former.
No, I must blame my own folly. This is a wonderful word, sadly ignored in our day, since it pinpoints how we neglect a clarity of thinking in favor of rushing headlong into the first feelings to come our way.
We are quick to blame people for being either insane or stupid, even as folly is neither of these, and it is much more common. The madman has lost control over his reason, and the idiot has a limited capacity to reason, but the fool is quite able to think for himself, and he nevertheless chooses to do otherwise. While there is no fault in the lunatic or the imbecile, there is great fault in the man of folly.
At the same time, we also insist on the saying about time healing all wounds, forgetting, however, the reasons why this happens to be true. It is the amount of deliberate attention we apply to our grief, not the days, weeks, months, or years that may have passed from the moment of the loss. We suffer less as we gradually change our attitudes, not just by the ticking of the clock.
I have often wondered why I grapple with a sense of betrayal long after the original event, and why others seem to recover from such a shock in a heartbeat. Yes, the intensity of the experience surely has something to do with it, but the bigger issue is my unwillingness to live and to learn. I can maintain an informed conscience and still have sufficient confidence in my power to stand against Fortune.
—Reflection written in 12/1998
IMAGE: Quentin Matsys, An Allegory of Folly (c. 1510)
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