M. But even envy, detraction, pity, have their use. Why should you pity rather than assist, if it is in your power to do so? Is it because you cannot be liberal without pity? We should not take sorrows on ourselves upon another’s account; but we ought to relieve others of their grief if we can. But to detract from another’s reputation, or to rival him with that vicious emulation which resembles an enmity, of what use can that conduct be?
Now, envy implies being uneasy at another’s good because one does not enjoy it one’s self; but detraction is the being uneasy at another’s good, merely because he enjoys it. How can it be right that you should voluntarily grieve, rather than take the trouble of acquiring what you want to have? For it is madness in the highest degree to desire to be the only one that has any particular happiness.
But who can with correctness speak in praise of a mediocrity of evils? Can anyone in whom there is lust or desire be otherwise than libidinous or desirous? Or can a man who is occupied by anger avoid being angry? Or can one who is exposed to any vexation escape being vexed? Or if he is under the influence of fear, must he not be fearful? Do we look, then, on the libidinous, the angry, the anxious, and the timid man, as persons of wisdom, of excellence? Of which I could speak very copiously and diffusely, but I wish to be as concise as possible.
And so, I will merely say that wisdom is an acquaintance with all divine and human affairs, and a knowledge of the cause of everything. Hence it is that it imitates what is divine, and looks upon all human concerns as inferior to virtue.
Did you, then, say that it was your opinion that such a man was as naturally liable to perturbation as the sea is exposed to winds? What is there that can discompose such gravity and constancy? Anything sudden or unforeseen? How can anything of this kind befall one to whom nothing is sudden and unforeseen that can happen to man?
Now, as to their saying that redundancies should be pared off, and only what is natural remain, what, I pray you, can be natural which may be too exuberant?
Now, envy implies being uneasy at another’s good because one does not enjoy it one’s self; but detraction is the being uneasy at another’s good, merely because he enjoys it. How can it be right that you should voluntarily grieve, rather than take the trouble of acquiring what you want to have? For it is madness in the highest degree to desire to be the only one that has any particular happiness.
But who can with correctness speak in praise of a mediocrity of evils? Can anyone in whom there is lust or desire be otherwise than libidinous or desirous? Or can a man who is occupied by anger avoid being angry? Or can one who is exposed to any vexation escape being vexed? Or if he is under the influence of fear, must he not be fearful? Do we look, then, on the libidinous, the angry, the anxious, and the timid man, as persons of wisdom, of excellence? Of which I could speak very copiously and diffusely, but I wish to be as concise as possible.
And so, I will merely say that wisdom is an acquaintance with all divine and human affairs, and a knowledge of the cause of everything. Hence it is that it imitates what is divine, and looks upon all human concerns as inferior to virtue.
Did you, then, say that it was your opinion that such a man was as naturally liable to perturbation as the sea is exposed to winds? What is there that can discompose such gravity and constancy? Anything sudden or unforeseen? How can anything of this kind befall one to whom nothing is sudden and unforeseen that can happen to man?
Now, as to their saying that redundancies should be pared off, and only what is natural remain, what, I pray you, can be natural which may be too exuberant?
—from Cicero, Tusculan Disputations 4.26
I find myself nodding along in agreement here, delighted to see that someone is finally saying what I have always wanted to say, yet I have been too afraid to face the looks of shock and contempt. We are quick to praise the man who feels intensely, while brushing aside the man who thinks soundly. The head and the gut have perversely swapped their rightful places.
It is wonderful, for example, to feel empathy, but is no substitute for understanding, and it is completely meaningless without action. I think of the pious crowd, who affect a tender look, tell you how they will pray for you, and then they believe their work to be done. A sentiment cannot take the place of a commitment.
When I just say I feel sorry for you, that is hardly enough. How is it within my power to help you comprehend your pain, to transform your sorrow into joy? There is a reason why pity can have a negative meaning, when it merely involves looking down at someone, instead of finding a way to raise him up. Yes, sadness will come, though there is no cause to dwell upon it, to wallow in it, to commiserate without finding a way out of that dark hole.
As teenagers, we would often sit around and mope, while listening to somber music. As adults we now complain to one another in the break room. Both are but a step away from wasting away in a dingy bar. No, there is no virtue in it, for the virtues demand an improvement through our thoughts and deeds, which is why it is only the wise man who can become a truly happy man. He knows what he is about.
The same will be true for the many forms of envy, where we define ourselves by desiring what the other fellow happens to have, or even wish to deny him any of his own pleasures. If it is indeed a good, what can I do to provide it for myself? How might I discern that the exercise of my own nature is the highest good, and why it is never necessary to seize what rightly belongs to another?
I recall a boy in second grade, who would constantly grab at a toy when a different child was playing with it, and then he would immediately lose interest. I was baffled why our progressive teacher would never put a stop to this, and she explained that she was only trying to “validate” his feelings. Even at that tender age, I had a sneaking sense that forming a conscience would be the best means for nurturing healthy feelings.
You may say that I am trying to stifle our passions, but I assure you that my concern is about expressing them through a peace of mind. No, not all emotions are good for us, and while it is deeply harmful to ignore or to repress them, it is our power of awareness that permits us to channel them in a harmonious way.
Those who know me will gladly confirm that I have a ridiculously passionate temperament, a hopeless romantic, which is precisely why I recognize the urgency of bringing order and purpose to my jumbled mass of desires and aversions. It is the recovering drunk who best knows the importance of sobriety, and the agitated man who most appreciates the prize of serenity.
When I am feeling lustful, or angry, or frightened, I therefore know that something is off about my judgments. I crave what I believe to be good, I oppose what I believe to be bad, and I am scared of what I believe to be a threat. Rather than allowing these urges to smother me, it is wiser to examine the assumptions from which they sprang. There is nothing natural about excess.
I find myself nodding along in agreement here, delighted to see that someone is finally saying what I have always wanted to say, yet I have been too afraid to face the looks of shock and contempt. We are quick to praise the man who feels intensely, while brushing aside the man who thinks soundly. The head and the gut have perversely swapped their rightful places.
It is wonderful, for example, to feel empathy, but is no substitute for understanding, and it is completely meaningless without action. I think of the pious crowd, who affect a tender look, tell you how they will pray for you, and then they believe their work to be done. A sentiment cannot take the place of a commitment.
When I just say I feel sorry for you, that is hardly enough. How is it within my power to help you comprehend your pain, to transform your sorrow into joy? There is a reason why pity can have a negative meaning, when it merely involves looking down at someone, instead of finding a way to raise him up. Yes, sadness will come, though there is no cause to dwell upon it, to wallow in it, to commiserate without finding a way out of that dark hole.
As teenagers, we would often sit around and mope, while listening to somber music. As adults we now complain to one another in the break room. Both are but a step away from wasting away in a dingy bar. No, there is no virtue in it, for the virtues demand an improvement through our thoughts and deeds, which is why it is only the wise man who can become a truly happy man. He knows what he is about.
The same will be true for the many forms of envy, where we define ourselves by desiring what the other fellow happens to have, or even wish to deny him any of his own pleasures. If it is indeed a good, what can I do to provide it for myself? How might I discern that the exercise of my own nature is the highest good, and why it is never necessary to seize what rightly belongs to another?
I recall a boy in second grade, who would constantly grab at a toy when a different child was playing with it, and then he would immediately lose interest. I was baffled why our progressive teacher would never put a stop to this, and she explained that she was only trying to “validate” his feelings. Even at that tender age, I had a sneaking sense that forming a conscience would be the best means for nurturing healthy feelings.
You may say that I am trying to stifle our passions, but I assure you that my concern is about expressing them through a peace of mind. No, not all emotions are good for us, and while it is deeply harmful to ignore or to repress them, it is our power of awareness that permits us to channel them in a harmonious way.
Those who know me will gladly confirm that I have a ridiculously passionate temperament, a hopeless romantic, which is precisely why I recognize the urgency of bringing order and purpose to my jumbled mass of desires and aversions. It is the recovering drunk who best knows the importance of sobriety, and the agitated man who most appreciates the prize of serenity.
When I am feeling lustful, or angry, or frightened, I therefore know that something is off about my judgments. I crave what I believe to be good, I oppose what I believe to be bad, and I am scared of what I believe to be a threat. Rather than allowing these urges to smother me, it is wiser to examine the assumptions from which they sprang. There is nothing natural about excess.
—Reflection written in 1/1999
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