M. For what is not only more miserable, but more base and sordid, than a man afflicted, weakened, and oppressed with grief? And little short of this misery is one who dreads some approaching evil, and who, through faintheartedness, is under continual suspense.
The poets, to express the greatness of this evil, imagine a stone to hang over the head of Tantalus, as a punishment for his wickedness, his pride, and his boasting. And this is the common punishment of folly; for there hangs over the head of everyone whose mind revolts from reason some similar fear.
And as these perturbations of the mind, grief and fear, are of a most wasting nature, so those two others, though of a more merry cast (I mean lust, which is always coveting something with eagerness, and empty mirth, which is an exulting joy), differ very little from madness.
Hence you may understand what sort of person he is whom we call at one time moderate, at another modest or temperate, at another constant and virtuous; while sometimes we include all these names in the word frugality, as the crown of all; for if that word did not include all virtues, it would never have been proverbial to say that a frugal man does everything rightly.
But when the Stoics apply this saying to their wise man, they seem to exalt him too much, and to speak of him with too much admiration.
The poets, to express the greatness of this evil, imagine a stone to hang over the head of Tantalus, as a punishment for his wickedness, his pride, and his boasting. And this is the common punishment of folly; for there hangs over the head of everyone whose mind revolts from reason some similar fear.
And as these perturbations of the mind, grief and fear, are of a most wasting nature, so those two others, though of a more merry cast (I mean lust, which is always coveting something with eagerness, and empty mirth, which is an exulting joy), differ very little from madness.
Hence you may understand what sort of person he is whom we call at one time moderate, at another modest or temperate, at another constant and virtuous; while sometimes we include all these names in the word frugality, as the crown of all; for if that word did not include all virtues, it would never have been proverbial to say that a frugal man does everything rightly.
But when the Stoics apply this saying to their wise man, they seem to exalt him too much, and to speak of him with too much admiration.
—from Cicero, Tusculan Disputations 4.16
When I am in the midst of being consumed by a powerful passion, you will have great difficulty trying to convince me that I need only begin to think calmly and reasonably. Yet once I recognize how desperately miserable I feel, I sense the urgency of some escape from my torment, and I am willing to stand back, if just out of desperation. If I am being honest with myself, it works every time, and that is a mighty encouragement for the next time I am swept up in emotions.
While feelings may often seem to be uncontrollable, coming and going without rhyme or reason, that is only because I am focused on the mere appearance, not considering the root causes. Make the unconscious conscious, as Jung used to say!
Yes, impressions received from the five senses, or reactions from the biological instincts, will announce themselves on their own terms, but I must remember how such experiences are, properly speaking, indifferent, without any value until I have applied my judgements to them. My emotional response, as an inner operation of the soul, is, however subtly, a consequence of my conscious choices.
As much as my heart may ache and the tears may flow, I have managed to conquer grief in my mind through deliberate reflection on the true nature of good and evil, and it has always made me a better man, and so a happier man.
The same is the case with fear, when my gut is in knots and my hands are shaking. Once I genuinely know it can do me no real harm, like the child who finally sees that there is no monster under the bed, I can act with conviction.
Gratification and lust are different, of course, in that they involve an insidious attraction instead of a dreadful aversion, though a similar habit of deliberation provides the cure. The appetites are crying out, and I should listen to them carefully, but they do not understand what I need—they must be guided to their rightful ends.
In this way, when I have my priorities in order, I have learned to transform grief into fulfillment, fear into caution, distress into joy, and lust into love. When I fail, I can be assured that the world is not to blame, and that I always have it within my power to improve myself. The boulder hanging over Tantalus looks as big or as small as he wishes.
Cicero seemed dubious of the Stoic ideal of the completely wise man, though I wonder if this is because such an individual is so exceedingly rare, not because he isn’t worthy of the highest praise. As daunting a task as it may be, should I not strive to be as good as I can be in all ways, not merely in some? Still, most of us will remain novices, and will rarely become sages.
When I am in the midst of being consumed by a powerful passion, you will have great difficulty trying to convince me that I need only begin to think calmly and reasonably. Yet once I recognize how desperately miserable I feel, I sense the urgency of some escape from my torment, and I am willing to stand back, if just out of desperation. If I am being honest with myself, it works every time, and that is a mighty encouragement for the next time I am swept up in emotions.
While feelings may often seem to be uncontrollable, coming and going without rhyme or reason, that is only because I am focused on the mere appearance, not considering the root causes. Make the unconscious conscious, as Jung used to say!
Yes, impressions received from the five senses, or reactions from the biological instincts, will announce themselves on their own terms, but I must remember how such experiences are, properly speaking, indifferent, without any value until I have applied my judgements to them. My emotional response, as an inner operation of the soul, is, however subtly, a consequence of my conscious choices.
As much as my heart may ache and the tears may flow, I have managed to conquer grief in my mind through deliberate reflection on the true nature of good and evil, and it has always made me a better man, and so a happier man.
The same is the case with fear, when my gut is in knots and my hands are shaking. Once I genuinely know it can do me no real harm, like the child who finally sees that there is no monster under the bed, I can act with conviction.
Gratification and lust are different, of course, in that they involve an insidious attraction instead of a dreadful aversion, though a similar habit of deliberation provides the cure. The appetites are crying out, and I should listen to them carefully, but they do not understand what I need—they must be guided to their rightful ends.
In this way, when I have my priorities in order, I have learned to transform grief into fulfillment, fear into caution, distress into joy, and lust into love. When I fail, I can be assured that the world is not to blame, and that I always have it within my power to improve myself. The boulder hanging over Tantalus looks as big or as small as he wishes.
Cicero seemed dubious of the Stoic ideal of the completely wise man, though I wonder if this is because such an individual is so exceedingly rare, not because he isn’t worthy of the highest praise. As daunting a task as it may be, should I not strive to be as good as I can be in all ways, not merely in some? Still, most of us will remain novices, and will rarely become sages.
—Reflection written in 1/1999
IMAGE: Gioacchino Assereto, Tantalus (c. 1640)
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