Shall I tell you the secret of the true scholar? It is this: Every man I meet is my master in some point, and in that I learn of him.
—from Ralph Waldo Emerson, Greatness
IMAGE: Ludwig Deutsch, The Scholars (1901)
The Death of Marcus Aurelius
Friday, June 20, 2025
Epictetus, Discourses 2.8.4
Again, when we send a young man from school to the world of action, why is it that we fear that he may do something amiss—in eating, in relations with women, that he may be humbled by wearing rags, or puffed up by fine clothes? He does not know the God that is in him, he knows not in whose company he is going.
Can we allow him to say, “I would fain have you with me”? Have you not God there? and, having Him, do you look for anyone else? Will He tell you anything different from this?
Why, if you were a statue wrought by Phidias—his Zeus or his Athena—you would have remembered what you are and the Craftsman who made you, and if you had any intelligence, you would have tried to do nothing unworthy of him who made you or of yourself, and to bear yourself becomingly in men's eyes.
But as it is, do you, whom Zeus has made, for that reason take no thought what manner of man you will show yourself?
Yet what comparison is there between the one artificer and the other or the one work and the other? What work of art, for instance, has in itself the faculties of which it gives indication in its structure? Is it not stone or bronze or gold or ivory?
Even the Athena of Phidias having once for all stretched out her hand and received the Victory upon it stands thus for all time, but the works of God are endowed with movement and breath, and have the faculty of dealing with impressions and of testing them.
Can we allow him to say, “I would fain have you with me”? Have you not God there? and, having Him, do you look for anyone else? Will He tell you anything different from this?
Why, if you were a statue wrought by Phidias—his Zeus or his Athena—you would have remembered what you are and the Craftsman who made you, and if you had any intelligence, you would have tried to do nothing unworthy of him who made you or of yourself, and to bear yourself becomingly in men's eyes.
But as it is, do you, whom Zeus has made, for that reason take no thought what manner of man you will show yourself?
Yet what comparison is there between the one artificer and the other or the one work and the other? What work of art, for instance, has in itself the faculties of which it gives indication in its structure? Is it not stone or bronze or gold or ivory?
Even the Athena of Phidias having once for all stretched out her hand and received the Victory upon it stands thus for all time, but the works of God are endowed with movement and breath, and have the faculty of dealing with impressions and of testing them.
—from Epictetus, Discourses 2.8
I was sometimes frustrated when my parents tried to offer last-minute advice as I was leaving the house for the day, what I then called “nagging”, though I now understand that it wasn’t really about what to wear, or how to speak, or who to seek out for company. They were concerned about what stood behind all of those details, hoping I would have the good sense to keep my priorities straight, to reflect upon where I came from, and where I was meant to go.
A young man, especially one raised in the old school, may think that he is expected to be prim and proper, and to become respectable by performing on cue. Though my family certainly did have refined manners, they perceived such impressions to merely be outer marks of an inner character, which I slowly learned was their only true intention for me. There can be no such thing as honor without virtue.
As I was growing up, a variety of strangers would insert themselves into my life, lecturing me on what I needed to fit their standards of success. The lists grew longer and longer, and the routines became ever more elaborate, and the supposed rewards were always just beyond the horizon.
Then the strangers disappeared, as suddenly as they had arrived, to be replaced by entirely new ones; the transition was usually marked by a quick handshake and a pat on the back. The common thread was a training in manipulating the circumstances, in gaining leverage, and in building a network of accomplices.
But did I really need any of that to be a good man, and thereby to be a happy man? Through all of it, I was being led astray, because none of those strangers were telling me what my eccentric family was patiently attempting to teach me: God is already present inside you. There is your glory. Settling for anything less will be a betrayal of your dignity.
There is never any doubt that the statue was crafted by a sculptor, and so its beauty is always a testament to its maker. So why do I continue to question my own origin, and to obstruct my own destiny? To occupy myself with fleeting pleasures, gaudy trinkets, and petty bickering is a waste of my gifts, like using a gold bar as a paperweight.
That value, however, is not in how much it glitters, or in what else it might be used to buy, but in the power to know myself and to master myself. While the Athena Parthenos was simply a lifeless image, I possess both vitality and awareness: what greater proof do I need of my Divine beginning, as well as my Divine end? It is best that I listen to my family, who would lift me up, instead of those strangers, who would sell me short.
I was sometimes frustrated when my parents tried to offer last-minute advice as I was leaving the house for the day, what I then called “nagging”, though I now understand that it wasn’t really about what to wear, or how to speak, or who to seek out for company. They were concerned about what stood behind all of those details, hoping I would have the good sense to keep my priorities straight, to reflect upon where I came from, and where I was meant to go.
A young man, especially one raised in the old school, may think that he is expected to be prim and proper, and to become respectable by performing on cue. Though my family certainly did have refined manners, they perceived such impressions to merely be outer marks of an inner character, which I slowly learned was their only true intention for me. There can be no such thing as honor without virtue.
As I was growing up, a variety of strangers would insert themselves into my life, lecturing me on what I needed to fit their standards of success. The lists grew longer and longer, and the routines became ever more elaborate, and the supposed rewards were always just beyond the horizon.
Then the strangers disappeared, as suddenly as they had arrived, to be replaced by entirely new ones; the transition was usually marked by a quick handshake and a pat on the back. The common thread was a training in manipulating the circumstances, in gaining leverage, and in building a network of accomplices.
But did I really need any of that to be a good man, and thereby to be a happy man? Through all of it, I was being led astray, because none of those strangers were telling me what my eccentric family was patiently attempting to teach me: God is already present inside you. There is your glory. Settling for anything less will be a betrayal of your dignity.
There is never any doubt that the statue was crafted by a sculptor, and so its beauty is always a testament to its maker. So why do I continue to question my own origin, and to obstruct my own destiny? To occupy myself with fleeting pleasures, gaudy trinkets, and petty bickering is a waste of my gifts, like using a gold bar as a paperweight.
That value, however, is not in how much it glitters, or in what else it might be used to buy, but in the power to know myself and to master myself. While the Athena Parthenos was simply a lifeless image, I possess both vitality and awareness: what greater proof do I need of my Divine beginning, as well as my Divine end? It is best that I listen to my family, who would lift me up, instead of those strangers, who would sell me short.
—Reflection written in 7/2001
Thursday, June 19, 2025
Delphic Maxims 78
Discern what you have heard
IMAGE: Joseph Severn, Keats Listening to a Nightingale on Hampstead Heath (1845)
Wednesday, June 18, 2025
Epictetus, Discourses 2.8.3
“What do you mean? Are not they too God's works?”
They are, but not His principal works, nor parts of the Divine. But you are a principal work, a fragment of God Himself, you have in yourself a part of Him.
Why then are you ignorant of your high birth? Why do you not know whence you have come? Will you not remember, when you eat, who you are that eat, and whom you are feeding, and the same in your relations with women? When you take part in society, or training, or conversation, do you not know that it is God you are nourishing and training?
You bear God about with you, poor wretch, and know it not. Do you think I speak of some external god of silver or gold? No, you bear Him about within you and are unaware that you are defiling Him with unclean thoughts and foul actions.
If an image of God were present, you would not dare to do any of the things you do; yet when God Himself is present within you and sees and hears all things, you are not ashamed of thinking and acting thus: O slow to understand your nature, and estranged from God!
They are, but not His principal works, nor parts of the Divine. But you are a principal work, a fragment of God Himself, you have in yourself a part of Him.
Why then are you ignorant of your high birth? Why do you not know whence you have come? Will you not remember, when you eat, who you are that eat, and whom you are feeding, and the same in your relations with women? When you take part in society, or training, or conversation, do you not know that it is God you are nourishing and training?
You bear God about with you, poor wretch, and know it not. Do you think I speak of some external god of silver or gold? No, you bear Him about within you and are unaware that you are defiling Him with unclean thoughts and foul actions.
If an image of God were present, you would not dare to do any of the things you do; yet when God Himself is present within you and sees and hears all things, you are not ashamed of thinking and acting thus: O slow to understand your nature, and estranged from God!
—from Epictetus, Discourses 2.8
The higher and the lower, the more and the less self-sufficient, are made to be in harmony with one another, not to be in conflict. I should recognize this when I look at my own powers, at the ordering of a community, or at the arrangement of Nature as a whole: one will come as another goes, one will lead as another follows, and one will fulfill its role over here as another fulfills its role over there.
Wherever there is matter devoid of mind, that matter is under the authority of more perfect mind, as the passive is moved by the active. Though the animal lacks its own awareness, it has its necessary part to play in the causality of Providence, a plan in which we can freely participate. That the means are subordinate to the end, the unconscious to the conscious, hardly makes the donkey or the goat insignificant.
Without becoming too puffed up, we must remember that, for all the weakness in the flesh, we contain within us a finite portion of the infinite Divine. The simple proof of this is in the presence of reason, the ability to govern ourselves through our own judgments. It is precisely because wisdom and virtue are inviolable that we can still remain serene in the face of hardships like poverty, disease, or scorn.
To lose sight of this is to abandon the very core of our humanity, and thereby to become bitter about every obstacle and cynical about the prospect of happiness. When food, sex, or education are just vehicles for lust, gluttony, or pride, we have forgotten the God within us. When we worship money, which is only a means, we are neglectful of the proper end, which is to live in understanding and in love.
Give the name of anything that is best, and you are speaking of nothing less than the Absolute.
What is now often called “Modern” Stoicism has little place for piety, because, like so much contemporary philosophy, it sadly begins and ends with the promotion of the self. Passages such as this are glossed over or described as obsolete, and yet Stoic thinking is woefully incomplete without its “physics”, without the context of Nature. Without God, man is nothing, and with God, man is everything.
This is not a matter of religious posturing or of tribal loyalties, for it is in the unity of beings with Being, of creatures with the Creator, that all things are perfected. This is the pedigree of our noble birth.
The higher and the lower, the more and the less self-sufficient, are made to be in harmony with one another, not to be in conflict. I should recognize this when I look at my own powers, at the ordering of a community, or at the arrangement of Nature as a whole: one will come as another goes, one will lead as another follows, and one will fulfill its role over here as another fulfills its role over there.
Wherever there is matter devoid of mind, that matter is under the authority of more perfect mind, as the passive is moved by the active. Though the animal lacks its own awareness, it has its necessary part to play in the causality of Providence, a plan in which we can freely participate. That the means are subordinate to the end, the unconscious to the conscious, hardly makes the donkey or the goat insignificant.
Without becoming too puffed up, we must remember that, for all the weakness in the flesh, we contain within us a finite portion of the infinite Divine. The simple proof of this is in the presence of reason, the ability to govern ourselves through our own judgments. It is precisely because wisdom and virtue are inviolable that we can still remain serene in the face of hardships like poverty, disease, or scorn.
To lose sight of this is to abandon the very core of our humanity, and thereby to become bitter about every obstacle and cynical about the prospect of happiness. When food, sex, or education are just vehicles for lust, gluttony, or pride, we have forgotten the God within us. When we worship money, which is only a means, we are neglectful of the proper end, which is to live in understanding and in love.
Give the name of anything that is best, and you are speaking of nothing less than the Absolute.
What is now often called “Modern” Stoicism has little place for piety, because, like so much contemporary philosophy, it sadly begins and ends with the promotion of the self. Passages such as this are glossed over or described as obsolete, and yet Stoic thinking is woefully incomplete without its “physics”, without the context of Nature. Without God, man is nothing, and with God, man is everything.
This is not a matter of religious posturing or of tribal loyalties, for it is in the unity of beings with Being, of creatures with the Creator, that all things are perfected. This is the pedigree of our noble birth.
—Reflection written in 7/2001
IMAGE: Jacob Jordaens, Jupiter (c. 1650)
Tuesday, June 17, 2025
Monday, June 16, 2025
The Basel Dance of Death 10
Matthäus Merian, The Basel Dance of Death: The Duchess (1616)
Although you are of noble blood,
Greatly esteemed upon this earth,
you are still dear and precious to me."
"Alas God, by the poor sound of the lute,
Must I go away with this terrible creature?
Today a duchess, and never more.
Alas, terror and distress, oh woe, oh woe!"
Epictetus, Discourses 2.8.2
Take the ass, for instance, is it born to be of primary importance? No; it is born because we had need of a back able to bear burdens.
Nay, more, we had need that it should walk; therefore it has further received the power of dealing with impressions, for else it could not have walked. Beyond that its powers cease.
But if the ass itself had received the power to understand how it deals with impressions, then it is plain that reason would have required that it should not have been subject to us or have supplied these needs, but should have been our equal and like ourselves.
Will you not then seek the true nature of the good in that, the want of which makes you refuse to predicate good of other things?
Nay, more, we had need that it should walk; therefore it has further received the power of dealing with impressions, for else it could not have walked. Beyond that its powers cease.
But if the ass itself had received the power to understand how it deals with impressions, then it is plain that reason would have required that it should not have been subject to us or have supplied these needs, but should have been our equal and like ourselves.
Will you not then seek the true nature of the good in that, the want of which makes you refuse to predicate good of other things?
—from Epictetus, Discourses 2.8
As someone who has long had a special bond with animals, I usually find myself in an awkward place, between those who would elevate a beast as if it were no different from a man, and those who would diminish a beast as if it were merely an instrument for a man. Some succumb to their sentimentality, while others succumb to their cruelty, and in both cases, placid reason has surrendered to fierce passion.
While I am immensely fond of donkeys, almost as much as I am of goats, I will not seek to convince them of anything by means of a logical demonstration. At the same time, I will not beat them with a stick if they fail to obey my wishes.
The ass is a creature of the flesh, and it responds to its impressions through instincts, which must be respected as such. I, however, am additionally a creature of reason, and I respond to my impressions through judgements, which are the very prerequisites for articulating morality. The ass does not understand about right and wrong, nor should it. I, however, am defined by my awareness of right and wrong, as my highest calling.
With apologies for the play on words, a conscience proceeds from a consciousness.
Accordingly, when we speak of a “good dog” or a “naughty kitty”, we are using such words in a broader, more casual sense, insofar as we perceive the pet’s actions to agree or disagree with our own estimation of benefit or harm. The dog or the cat certainly do matter, but such value is only apparent to a mind that grasps order and purpose. In a narrower, more formal sense, benefit and harm become possible by the discernment of design.
Just as God’s intellect instills this meaning, so man’s intellect discovers this meaning.
Does this mean that the donkey, the goat, the dog, and the cat are there to be exploited however I please? No, they are there to be of service to the whole, and it is my deliberate responsibility to care for them with a regard for their place within Nature. This is why I think of property as a form of stewardship, not as a form of domination.
Observe how the man who does not comprehend his own dignity is unable to comprehend the dignity of anything else. I cannot rule what is on the outside if I cannot rule what is on the inside.
As someone who has long had a special bond with animals, I usually find myself in an awkward place, between those who would elevate a beast as if it were no different from a man, and those who would diminish a beast as if it were merely an instrument for a man. Some succumb to their sentimentality, while others succumb to their cruelty, and in both cases, placid reason has surrendered to fierce passion.
While I am immensely fond of donkeys, almost as much as I am of goats, I will not seek to convince them of anything by means of a logical demonstration. At the same time, I will not beat them with a stick if they fail to obey my wishes.
The ass is a creature of the flesh, and it responds to its impressions through instincts, which must be respected as such. I, however, am additionally a creature of reason, and I respond to my impressions through judgements, which are the very prerequisites for articulating morality. The ass does not understand about right and wrong, nor should it. I, however, am defined by my awareness of right and wrong, as my highest calling.
With apologies for the play on words, a conscience proceeds from a consciousness.
Accordingly, when we speak of a “good dog” or a “naughty kitty”, we are using such words in a broader, more casual sense, insofar as we perceive the pet’s actions to agree or disagree with our own estimation of benefit or harm. The dog or the cat certainly do matter, but such value is only apparent to a mind that grasps order and purpose. In a narrower, more formal sense, benefit and harm become possible by the discernment of design.
Just as God’s intellect instills this meaning, so man’s intellect discovers this meaning.
Does this mean that the donkey, the goat, the dog, and the cat are there to be exploited however I please? No, they are there to be of service to the whole, and it is my deliberate responsibility to care for them with a regard for their place within Nature. This is why I think of property as a form of stewardship, not as a form of domination.
Observe how the man who does not comprehend his own dignity is unable to comprehend the dignity of anything else. I cannot rule what is on the outside if I cannot rule what is on the inside.
—Reflection written in 7/2001
IMAGE: Joos de Momper the Younger, Mountainous Landscape with Figures and a Donkey ( c. 1630)
_-_Mountainous_Landscape_with_Figures_and_a_Donkey_-_WGA16131.jpg)
Sunday, June 15, 2025
Ellis Walker, Epictetus in Poetical Paraphrase 55
When some idea, that excites desire,
Courts you in all its best and gay attire;
As when your fancy lays you on a bed
Of roses, and twines myrtle round your head,
Near am'rous shady groves, and purling springs,
While hov'ring Cupids fan you with their wings;
While you in the dear fetters are confin'd,
Of some soft beauty's arms, that's fair as kind;
Take heed lest here so far you do pursue
That fancy'd pleasure, as to wish it true:
You're just upon the precipice's brink,
Pause then a little, and take time to think;
Examine well the object, and compare
Th' unequal periods, which allotted are
To weeping penitence, and short-liv'd bliss,
How long the one, how short the other is;
Joy in a nimble moment ends its race
And rueful, pale repentance takes its place,
And moves with a sad, sullen, heavy pace,
Attended all the way with groans and cries,
Self-accusations, sighs, and warry eyes.
Think then what joy, and pleasure you will find;
That is, what peace, and quiet in your mind,
How you will praise yourself, and bless your care,
When you escape the dang'rous pleasing snare.
But if you think the pleasure may content;
So safe, agreeable, convenient,
As that you'll have no reason to repent;
Take heed you be not by its sweets subdu'd,
Dragg'd by its smiling force to servitude:
And think how much 'tis better to be free,
The conqu'ror of such pow'rful charms to be,
And triumph in so great a victory.
Courts you in all its best and gay attire;
As when your fancy lays you on a bed
Of roses, and twines myrtle round your head,
Near am'rous shady groves, and purling springs,
While hov'ring Cupids fan you with their wings;
While you in the dear fetters are confin'd,
Of some soft beauty's arms, that's fair as kind;
Take heed lest here so far you do pursue
That fancy'd pleasure, as to wish it true:
You're just upon the precipice's brink,
Pause then a little, and take time to think;
Examine well the object, and compare
Th' unequal periods, which allotted are
To weeping penitence, and short-liv'd bliss,
How long the one, how short the other is;
Joy in a nimble moment ends its race
And rueful, pale repentance takes its place,
And moves with a sad, sullen, heavy pace,
Attended all the way with groans and cries,
Self-accusations, sighs, and warry eyes.
Think then what joy, and pleasure you will find;
That is, what peace, and quiet in your mind,
How you will praise yourself, and bless your care,
When you escape the dang'rous pleasing snare.
But if you think the pleasure may content;
So safe, agreeable, convenient,
As that you'll have no reason to repent;
Take heed you be not by its sweets subdu'd,
Dragg'd by its smiling force to servitude:
And think how much 'tis better to be free,
The conqu'ror of such pow'rful charms to be,
And triumph in so great a victory.
William Hogarth, Taste in High Life
I would say that the mania for fashion is merely ridiculous, if I did not also see how much harm it does to its flunkies. Every follower believes himself to be the trendsetter, and we end up with a remarkable contradiction, where conformity is taken to be originality.
If one blindly follows the herd, for a lack of confidence in simply being oneself, the only way to stand out from the crowd is to take the latest trend to ever greater extremes. Once the ungainly apparatus collapses under its own weight, we turn to the next craze, and the entire process repeats itself, driven by an intensity of passion at the expense of a modesty in reason.
I have now been around long enough to see many extravagant styles come and go, and even to see those same styles return once more, as if they were entirely new. What we mocked a decade ago is again in vogue, with little hope of convincing the hapless consumers that they have unwittingly turned themselves into slaves.
It is most noticeable in clothing or in music, but it seeps into every aspect of our lives, because it is really about the quality of our thinking. Before we know it, we are bound to obedience in our religion, our politics, and our morals. Needless to say, this is not the life suitable for a creature gifted with the power of free judgment.
So many of Hogarth's works are critical of restrictive standards, exposing how a surrender to the mob is a surrender of one's conscience. This particular painting is a work of lighthearted satire, yet one must wonder how the little vanities in the parlor are indicative of much greater vanities in the wider world.
An older, well-to-do couple are decked out in the latest attire of the 1740's, quite oblivious to how superficial and decadent they have become. The woman's exaggerated hoop dress stands out the most, though I also can't help but notice the man's overblown hat, his pointy shoes, and the long braid on his wig. They are engrossed in examining a cup and a saucer, while a pet monkey, also dressed for success, is looking over a receipt for their recent purchase at an auction.
To the left, a younger woman pets a young African servant, whose grin could just as easily be one of mockery as of deference. Her elaborate dress and his gaudy turban cannot hide the condescension of the gesture. The entire scene is so artificially cultured that is has fallen right back into being vulgar.
The pictures on the wall continue to lampoon the outsized hooped skirts, with one pasted on a classical nude, and another causing a woman to become trapped in a sedan chair. I think of the bell-bottoms in the 1970's, the parachute pants of the 1980's, and the baseball caps of the 1990's. The more things change, the more they stay the same. . . .
William Hogarth, Taste in High Life (painting, c. 1742)
William Hogarth, Taste in High Life (engraving, 1746)
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Saturday, June 14, 2025
James Vila Blake, Sonnets from Marcus Aurelius 21
21.
—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 8.42
21.
'Twere strange with others to be reasonable,
But with myself tempestuous and sore;
I ought to be like fountains, estimable
To him who quaffs, but to themselves much more.
The fountain giveth drink to all athirst,
And for that office is sought out and singled;
But as it sparkles up, each drop ’s a-burst
With image of blue sky and green earth mingled.
So have I been, will be, to every one—
If hurtful, unwilling so, but willingly befriending;
Then what disquiet shall to me be done
By me, a spray from earth, and thither tending!
As willingly ne’er did I others vex,
Say why shall I myself myself perplex?
IMAGE: William-Adolphe Bouguereau, At the Fountain (1897)
_-_At_The_Fountain_(1897).jpg)
Epictetus, Discourses 2.8.1
Chapter 8: What is the true nature of the good.
God is beneficent, but the good also is beneficent. It is natural therefore that the true nature of the good should be in the same region as the true nature of God.
What then is the nature of God? Is it flesh? God forbid. Land? God forbid. Fame? God forbid. It is intelligence, knowledge, right reason. In these then and nowhere else seek the true nature of the good.
Do you look for it in a plant? No. Or in an irrational creature? No. If then you seek it in what is rational why do you seek it elsewhere than in what distinguishes it from irrational things? Plants have not the faculty of dealing with impressions; therefore you do not predicate “good” of them.
The good then demands power to deal with impressions. Is that all it demands? If that be all, you must say that other animals also are capable of good and of happiness and unhappiness.
God is beneficent, but the good also is beneficent. It is natural therefore that the true nature of the good should be in the same region as the true nature of God.
What then is the nature of God? Is it flesh? God forbid. Land? God forbid. Fame? God forbid. It is intelligence, knowledge, right reason. In these then and nowhere else seek the true nature of the good.
Do you look for it in a plant? No. Or in an irrational creature? No. If then you seek it in what is rational why do you seek it elsewhere than in what distinguishes it from irrational things? Plants have not the faculty of dealing with impressions; therefore you do not predicate “good” of them.
The good then demands power to deal with impressions. Is that all it demands? If that be all, you must say that other animals also are capable of good and of happiness and unhappiness.
But you do not say so and you are right, for whatever power they may have to deal with impressions, they have not the power to understand how they do so, and with good reason, for they are subservient to others, and are not of primary importance.
—from Epictetus, Discourses 2.8
They tell me that philosophers think too much, even as I object that most people think too little, though I suspect that we should rather be speaking in terms of quality rather than quantity. Consciousness, after all, isn’t something we turn on or off, and the discipline of sound judgment is a matter of precision, not of intensity.
Consider, for example, how we constantly refer to the notion of something as being “good” or “bad”, to the point where all of our daily choices entirely depend upon such a distinction, and yet we are hard pressed to define these terms with any clarity, even in the crudest manner. To speak of what “helps” or “hurts” is avoiding the deeper question of identifying the aim of our very nature, and reducing benefit to the mere satisfaction of subjective desires drifts away into an unintelligible relativism.
I am forever grateful for my training in Thomism, however obscure and dusty it might appear, because it concisely relates any properties, such truth, unity, beauty, and goodness, directly back to the root of being. And what better way is there to consider any being than through God, the one thing that IS without any conditions? This is anathema to so much modern thinking, while it is at the foundation of classical thinking.
So, if I wish to grasp the good within anything, let me examine the good that stands behind everything. Go to the source. And from what we can know about the perfection of the Divine, it reveals itself as the power of absolute understanding, of which our human reason is but a finite effect. What is good for us is what participates in the goodness of God.
We are terribly mistaken when we seek out a value in what is lesser, without consulting the measure of what is greater. If anything worthy can be found in pleasure, or property, or renown, it only receives its excellence through the direction of knowledge, and it only possesses meaning by being imbued with intelligent purpose.
A stone, a tree, and a horse have distinct forms of existence, and yet their natures do not command an awareness of the causes, a capacity to explain the reasons why. It is by means of a mind that one being can contain within itself the identity of other beings, and it can thereby cooperate knowingly and freely in the design of the whole. The very concepts of “good” or “bad” can only be present where the power of judgment is first present, able to intentionally rule itself in harmony with other creatures.
A stone shares in existence, but no more. A tree shares in life, but no more. A horse shares in sensation, but no more. As much as they have their rightful places, a man shares in thought, by which the impressions are interpreted. It is in this sense that our goodness lies in reason.
They tell me that philosophers think too much, even as I object that most people think too little, though I suspect that we should rather be speaking in terms of quality rather than quantity. Consciousness, after all, isn’t something we turn on or off, and the discipline of sound judgment is a matter of precision, not of intensity.
Consider, for example, how we constantly refer to the notion of something as being “good” or “bad”, to the point where all of our daily choices entirely depend upon such a distinction, and yet we are hard pressed to define these terms with any clarity, even in the crudest manner. To speak of what “helps” or “hurts” is avoiding the deeper question of identifying the aim of our very nature, and reducing benefit to the mere satisfaction of subjective desires drifts away into an unintelligible relativism.
I am forever grateful for my training in Thomism, however obscure and dusty it might appear, because it concisely relates any properties, such truth, unity, beauty, and goodness, directly back to the root of being. And what better way is there to consider any being than through God, the one thing that IS without any conditions? This is anathema to so much modern thinking, while it is at the foundation of classical thinking.
So, if I wish to grasp the good within anything, let me examine the good that stands behind everything. Go to the source. And from what we can know about the perfection of the Divine, it reveals itself as the power of absolute understanding, of which our human reason is but a finite effect. What is good for us is what participates in the goodness of God.
We are terribly mistaken when we seek out a value in what is lesser, without consulting the measure of what is greater. If anything worthy can be found in pleasure, or property, or renown, it only receives its excellence through the direction of knowledge, and it only possesses meaning by being imbued with intelligent purpose.
A stone, a tree, and a horse have distinct forms of existence, and yet their natures do not command an awareness of the causes, a capacity to explain the reasons why. It is by means of a mind that one being can contain within itself the identity of other beings, and it can thereby cooperate knowingly and freely in the design of the whole. The very concepts of “good” or “bad” can only be present where the power of judgment is first present, able to intentionally rule itself in harmony with other creatures.
A stone shares in existence, but no more. A tree shares in life, but no more. A horse shares in sensation, but no more. As much as they have their rightful places, a man shares in thought, by which the impressions are interpreted. It is in this sense that our goodness lies in reason.
—Reflection written in 7/2001
IMAGE: René-Antoine Houasse, Minerva and the Triumph of Jupiter (1706)
Friday, June 13, 2025
Thursday, June 12, 2025
Plutarch, The Life of Cato the Younger 22
Before he entered upon his tribuneship, and during the consulship of Cicero, Cato maintained the authority of the magistrate in many conflicts, and above all in the measures relating to Catiline, which proved the most important and most glorious of all, he brought matters to a successful issue.
Catiline himself, namely, who was trying to bring about a complete and destructive change in the Roman state, and was stirring up alike seditions and wars, was convicted by Cicero and fled the city; but Lentulus and Cethegus and many others with them took over the conspiracy, and, charging Catiline with cowardice and pettiness in his designs, were themselves planning to destroy the city utterly with fire, and to subvert the empire with revolts of nations and foreign wars.
But their schemes were discovered, and Cicero brought the matter before the senate for deliberation. The first speaker, Silanus, expressed the opinion that the men ought to suffer the extremest fate, and those who followed him in turn were of the same mind, until it came to Caesar.
Caesar now rose, and since he was a powerful speaker and wished to increase every change and commotion in the state as so much stuff for his own designs, rather than to allow them to be quenched, he urged many persuasive and humane arguments.
He would not hear of the men being put to death without a trial, but favored their being kept in close custody, and he wrought such a change in the opinions of the senate, which was in fear of the people, that even Silanus recanted and said that he too had not meant death, but imprisonment; for to a Roman this was the "extremest" of all evils.
IMAGE: Cesare Maccari, Cicero Denounces Catiline (1889)
Epictetus, Discourses 2.7.3
What must we do then?
We must come without the will to get or the will to avoid, just as the wayfarer asks the man he meets which of two ways leads anywhere, not wanting the right hand to be the road rather than the left, for he does not wish to go one particular road, but the road which leads to his goal.
We ought to approach God as we approach a guide, dealing with Him as we deal with our eyes, not beseeching them to show us one sort of things rather than another, but accepting the impressions of things as they are shown us.
But instead of that we tremble and get hold of the augur and appeal to him as if he were a god and say, “Master, have pity, suffer me to come off safe.”
Slave, do you not wish for what is better for you? Is anything better than what seems good to God? Why do you do all that in you lies to corrupt the judge, and pervert your counsellor?
We must come without the will to get or the will to avoid, just as the wayfarer asks the man he meets which of two ways leads anywhere, not wanting the right hand to be the road rather than the left, for he does not wish to go one particular road, but the road which leads to his goal.
We ought to approach God as we approach a guide, dealing with Him as we deal with our eyes, not beseeching them to show us one sort of things rather than another, but accepting the impressions of things as they are shown us.
But instead of that we tremble and get hold of the augur and appeal to him as if he were a god and say, “Master, have pity, suffer me to come off safe.”
Slave, do you not wish for what is better for you? Is anything better than what seems good to God? Why do you do all that in you lies to corrupt the judge, and pervert your counsellor?
—from Epictetus, Discourses 2.7
I sadly know too many people who treat prophecy in much the same way as they treat prayer: they are experts at cherry-picking the preferred outcomes, solely foreseeing and petitioning for what is gratifying. They praise God when things go their way, and they blame the Devil when things fall part, and they never once think of improving their own judgments, the only things that are truly their own.
So I remind myself not to get caught up in any resentments, and not to confuse the mere appearance of piety with the actual virtue. If my trust in Providence is sincere, I may prefer what is easier to what is harder, but I will choose to be happy with whatever circumstances are presented to me, in the knowledge that they are precisely what is required, at this time and in this place, to become what I am meant to be.
Though it will seem odd to some, I have long connected the teachings of Epictetus with the wisdom of John Henry Newman:
God has created me to do Him some definite service. He has committed some work to me which He has not committed to another. I have my mission. I may never know it in this life, but I shall be told it in the next.
I am a link in a chain, a bond of connection between persons. He has not created me for naught. I shall do good; I shall do His work. I shall be an angel of peace, a preacher of truth in my own place, while not intending it if I do but keep His commandments.
Therefore, I will trust Him, whatever I am, I can never be thrown away.
If I am in sickness, my sickness may serve Him, in perplexity, my perplexity may serve Him. If I am in sorrow, my sorrow may serve Him.
He does nothing in vain. He knows what He is about. He may take away my friends. He may throw me among strangers. He may make me feel desolate, make my spirits sink, hide my future from me. Still, He knows what He is about.
For many years, I carried a tattered card in my wallet with this passage written on it. It saved my life more often than I can count. I no longer need the card, and so I passed it on to someone else, because I now have the words memorized.
As I grow older, and hopefully just a little bit wiser, I begin to grasp more of why this life is measured by character instead of utility. If I look to my past, I can think of so many instances when different decisions would have brought me far greater comforts, and yet they would also have denied me the chance to increase in understanding and in love. If I look to my future, I can imagine all sorts of options that will spare me grueling hardships, and yet a relief from adversity will not guarantee me any peace of mind.
My wants should conform to my needs, instead of allowing my needs to be compromised by my wants. Sometimes the steeper path is the better way to approach the final destination.
An indifference to events is not about caring for nothing, but rather about accepting everything. The power of sight must be open to perceiving all colors, not just the ones that seem the most appealing.
If I pray, let me pray for the grace to strengthen my own resolve. If I seek divination, let it be as a spur to readiness. If it must indeed come to pass, what will I make of it?
Though I am tempted to say that I ought to take both the good and the bad, I correct myself by distinguishing that it only becomes good or bad through my estimation and use. To beg for the lightest load is to surrender my faith both in myself and in my Creator.
He knows what He is about.
I sadly know too many people who treat prophecy in much the same way as they treat prayer: they are experts at cherry-picking the preferred outcomes, solely foreseeing and petitioning for what is gratifying. They praise God when things go their way, and they blame the Devil when things fall part, and they never once think of improving their own judgments, the only things that are truly their own.
So I remind myself not to get caught up in any resentments, and not to confuse the mere appearance of piety with the actual virtue. If my trust in Providence is sincere, I may prefer what is easier to what is harder, but I will choose to be happy with whatever circumstances are presented to me, in the knowledge that they are precisely what is required, at this time and in this place, to become what I am meant to be.
Though it will seem odd to some, I have long connected the teachings of Epictetus with the wisdom of John Henry Newman:
God has created me to do Him some definite service. He has committed some work to me which He has not committed to another. I have my mission. I may never know it in this life, but I shall be told it in the next.
I am a link in a chain, a bond of connection between persons. He has not created me for naught. I shall do good; I shall do His work. I shall be an angel of peace, a preacher of truth in my own place, while not intending it if I do but keep His commandments.
Therefore, I will trust Him, whatever I am, I can never be thrown away.
If I am in sickness, my sickness may serve Him, in perplexity, my perplexity may serve Him. If I am in sorrow, my sorrow may serve Him.
He does nothing in vain. He knows what He is about. He may take away my friends. He may throw me among strangers. He may make me feel desolate, make my spirits sink, hide my future from me. Still, He knows what He is about.
For many years, I carried a tattered card in my wallet with this passage written on it. It saved my life more often than I can count. I no longer need the card, and so I passed it on to someone else, because I now have the words memorized.
As I grow older, and hopefully just a little bit wiser, I begin to grasp more of why this life is measured by character instead of utility. If I look to my past, I can think of so many instances when different decisions would have brought me far greater comforts, and yet they would also have denied me the chance to increase in understanding and in love. If I look to my future, I can imagine all sorts of options that will spare me grueling hardships, and yet a relief from adversity will not guarantee me any peace of mind.
My wants should conform to my needs, instead of allowing my needs to be compromised by my wants. Sometimes the steeper path is the better way to approach the final destination.
An indifference to events is not about caring for nothing, but rather about accepting everything. The power of sight must be open to perceiving all colors, not just the ones that seem the most appealing.
If I pray, let me pray for the grace to strengthen my own resolve. If I seek divination, let it be as a spur to readiness. If it must indeed come to pass, what will I make of it?
Though I am tempted to say that I ought to take both the good and the bad, I correct myself by distinguishing that it only becomes good or bad through my estimation and use. To beg for the lightest load is to surrender my faith both in myself and in my Creator.
He knows what He is about.
—Reflection written in 7/2001
Wednesday, June 11, 2025
Sayings of Ramakrishna 266
The soiled mirror never reflects the rays of the sun, and the impure and unclean in heart who are subject to Mâyâ, to illusion, never perceive the glory of the Bhagavân, the Venerable.
But the pure in heart see the Lord, as the clear mirror reflects the sun.
Be holy, then.
IMAGE: George Frederic Watts, After the Deluge (1886)
Tuesday, June 10, 2025
Chrysippus, Fragments from the Passions 3
There do exist parts of the soul out of which the reason in it and the disposition in the reason are composed.
And the soul is honorable or shameful in accordance with the condition of its leading part with respect to its proper divisions.
Justus Lipsius, On Constancy 1.9
"Wherefore you yourself shall sit as judge in this cause, but yet with the veil removed from your face.
"You fear the war. I know it. Why? Because war draws with it punishment and destruction. To whom? To others at this present, but it may be shortly to you. Behold the head, behold the fountain of your grief. For as a thunderbolt having stricken one man, makes all that stood near him to tremble: so in these universal and public calamities, the loss touches few, the fear redounds to all, which fear if it were away, there would be no place for sorrow.
"Behold, if war be among the Ethiopians or Indians, it moves you not (you are out of danger): if it be in Belgica you weep, cry out, rub your forehead, and smite your thigh. But now if it were so that you did bewail the public evils as public, and for themselves, there should be no difference had of you between those countries and this.
"You will say, 'It is none of my country.' O fool: are not they men, sprung first out of the same stock with you? Living under the same globe of heaven? Upon the same mold of earth? Think you that this little plot of ground environed by such and such mountains, compassed with this or that river, is your country?
"You will say, 'It is none of my country.' O fool: are not they men, sprung first out of the same stock with you? Living under the same globe of heaven? Upon the same mold of earth? Think you that this little plot of ground environed by such and such mountains, compassed with this or that river, is your country?
"You are deceived. The whole world is our country, wheresoever is the race of mankind sprung of that celestial seed. Socrates being asked of what country he was, answered: 'Of the world.' For a high and lofty mind will not suffer itself to be penned by opinion within such narrow bounds, but conceives and knows the whole world to be his own.
"We scorn and laugh at fools, who suffer their masters to tie them with a straw or small thread to a post, where they stand as if they were fettered fast with iron. Our folly is not inferior to theirs, who with the weak link of opinion are wedded to one corner of the world.
"But to let pass these deep arguments (which I doubt how you will conceive of them), I demand, if God would assure you in the midst of these broils, that your field should be unspoiled, your house and substance in safety, and yourself on some high mountain placed out of all danger: would you lament for all this?
"But to let pass these deep arguments (which I doubt how you will conceive of them), I demand, if God would assure you in the midst of these broils, that your field should be unspoiled, your house and substance in safety, and yourself on some high mountain placed out of all danger: would you lament for all this?
"I am loath to affirm it of you, but I am certain there are many that would be glad thereof, and feed their eyes greedily with the spectacle of such blood butcheries. Why do you turn aside? Why do you marvel at this? Such is the natural corruption of man, that, as the poet says, it rejoices at other men's harms. And as some apples there be though bitter in the belly yet relishing sweet in taste: so are other men's miseries, we ourselves being free from them.
Suppose a man be on the shore beholding a shipwreck, it will move him somewhat, yet truly not without an inward tickling of his mind, because he sees other men's danger, himself being in security. But if he in person were in that distressed ship, he would be touched with another manner of grief.
"Even so verily is it in this case, let us say, or make what show we list to the contrary. For we bewail our own misfortunes earnestly and from the heart, but public calamities in words only and for fashion's sake.
"Wherefore, Lipsius, take away these stage-hangings, draw back the curtain that is before you, and without all counterfeiting or dissimulation, acquaint us with the true cause of your sorrow."
IMAGE: Jan Martszen de Jonge, A Cavalry Skirmish with Two Fallen Soldiers (c. 1640)
Epictetus, Discourses 2.7.2
Why do you not lay down the law in matters of grammar? Are you going to do it here then, where all mankind are at sea and in conflict with one another?
Therefore, that was a good answer that the lady made who wished to send the shipload of supplies to Gratilla in exile, when one said, “Domitian will take them away”: “I would rather”, she said, “that Domitian should take them away than that I should not send them.”
What then leads us to consult diviners so constantly? Cowardice, fear of events. That is why we flatter the diviners.
“Master, shall I inherit from my father?”
“Let us see: let us offer sacrifice.”
“Yes, master, as fortune wills.”
When he says, “You shall inherit”, we give thanks to him as though we had received the inheritance from him. That is why they go on deluding us.
Therefore, that was a good answer that the lady made who wished to send the shipload of supplies to Gratilla in exile, when one said, “Domitian will take them away”: “I would rather”, she said, “that Domitian should take them away than that I should not send them.”
What then leads us to consult diviners so constantly? Cowardice, fear of events. That is why we flatter the diviners.
“Master, shall I inherit from my father?”
“Let us see: let us offer sacrifice.”
“Yes, master, as fortune wills.”
When he says, “You shall inherit”, we give thanks to him as though we had received the inheritance from him. That is why they go on deluding us.
—from Epictetus, Discourses 2.7
Like so many impatient teenagers, I was initially bored by the Greek and Roman myths, but however tediously they may have been taught at school, I quickly realized I should be paying very close attention, because they had an uncanny way of revealing so many universal truths about our human condition.
In what was probably one of my first forays into clumsy philosophical reflection, I noticed how prophecies seemed to get people into ever deeper trouble, and yet it then became clear that the forecast itself was doing absolutely no harm at all. Rather, the problems arose when the characters took it upon themselves to play with fate, to focus on winning a more satisfying outcome, without first considering their own personal responsibilities.
The example of Oedipus was foremost in my mind, where the vain attempts at avoiding the Delphic predictions ironically became the very cause of their fulfillment. A surrender to fear leads to hasty judgment, and pride goes before the fall. If a young man had just trusted in his own constancy, instead of plotting to outwit his circumstances, he would never have become that old man broken by despair.
What a world of difference there is between humbly wishing to discern the will of Providence and impudently bargaining with the dictates of Fortune! I should no more seek the advice of a fortune teller in matters of the virtues than I should trust my mechanic to teach me about the subtleties of grammar.
Will someone with great power hinder me in my best-laid plans? While it is quite possible that he can do so, this should not discourage me from pursuing what I know to be right, nor does a heads-up on the odds of success absolve me of my duty. The emperor has his sort of power, and I have my own sort of power, one that remains completely beyond his reach.
Years later, the Bhagavad Gita taught me about a commitment to action, while remaining detached from the fruit of the action, and my thoughts returned back to the tragic Oedipus. As simple as the lesson should be, so many of us struggle with trying to master events, when we should really be trying to master ourselves. For myself, I am painfully aware that this is due to a far deeper tension between a life of integrity and a list of stipulations.
In seeking out divination, is it my intent to understand the events on Nature’s terms or to control the events according to my whims? It speaks volumes when I only expect what is convenient and fly from what is burdensome; I cannot praise destiny on one day and then curse it the next. I doubt that God wishes us to become spiritual mercenaries, coming and going for the right price.
Like so many impatient teenagers, I was initially bored by the Greek and Roman myths, but however tediously they may have been taught at school, I quickly realized I should be paying very close attention, because they had an uncanny way of revealing so many universal truths about our human condition.
In what was probably one of my first forays into clumsy philosophical reflection, I noticed how prophecies seemed to get people into ever deeper trouble, and yet it then became clear that the forecast itself was doing absolutely no harm at all. Rather, the problems arose when the characters took it upon themselves to play with fate, to focus on winning a more satisfying outcome, without first considering their own personal responsibilities.
The example of Oedipus was foremost in my mind, where the vain attempts at avoiding the Delphic predictions ironically became the very cause of their fulfillment. A surrender to fear leads to hasty judgment, and pride goes before the fall. If a young man had just trusted in his own constancy, instead of plotting to outwit his circumstances, he would never have become that old man broken by despair.
What a world of difference there is between humbly wishing to discern the will of Providence and impudently bargaining with the dictates of Fortune! I should no more seek the advice of a fortune teller in matters of the virtues than I should trust my mechanic to teach me about the subtleties of grammar.
Will someone with great power hinder me in my best-laid plans? While it is quite possible that he can do so, this should not discourage me from pursuing what I know to be right, nor does a heads-up on the odds of success absolve me of my duty. The emperor has his sort of power, and I have my own sort of power, one that remains completely beyond his reach.
Years later, the Bhagavad Gita taught me about a commitment to action, while remaining detached from the fruit of the action, and my thoughts returned back to the tragic Oedipus. As simple as the lesson should be, so many of us struggle with trying to master events, when we should really be trying to master ourselves. For myself, I am painfully aware that this is due to a far deeper tension between a life of integrity and a list of stipulations.
In seeking out divination, is it my intent to understand the events on Nature’s terms or to control the events according to my whims? It speaks volumes when I only expect what is convenient and fly from what is burdensome; I cannot praise destiny on one day and then curse it the next. I doubt that God wishes us to become spiritual mercenaries, coming and going for the right price.
—Reflection written in 7/2001
IMAGE: Michelangelo, Delphic Sibyl (1509)
Monday, June 9, 2025
Stoic Snippets 265
Practice yourself even in the things which you despair of accomplishing.
For even the left hand, which is ineffectual for all other things for want of practice, holds the bridle more vigorously than the right hand; for it has been practiced in this.
—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 12.6
Epictetus, Discourses 2.7.1
Chapter 7: How to consult diviners.
Many of us often neglect acts which are fitting because we consult the diviners out of season.
What can the diviner see more than death or danger or disease or generally things of that sort? If then I have to risk my life for a friend, if even it is fitting for me to die for him, how can it be in season for me to consult a diviner? Have I not within me the diviner who has told me the true nature of good and evil, who has expounded the signs of both?
What need have I then of the flesh of victims or the flight of birds? Can I bear with him when he says, “This is expedient for you”? Does he know what is expedient, does he know what is good, has he learnt signs to distinguish between good things and bad, like the signs in the flesh of victims? If he knows the signs of good and evil, he knows also the signs of things noble and shameful, just and unjust.
It is yours, man, to tell me what is portended—life or death, poverty or wealth; but whether this is expedient or inexpedient I am not going to inquire of you.
Many of us often neglect acts which are fitting because we consult the diviners out of season.
What can the diviner see more than death or danger or disease or generally things of that sort? If then I have to risk my life for a friend, if even it is fitting for me to die for him, how can it be in season for me to consult a diviner? Have I not within me the diviner who has told me the true nature of good and evil, who has expounded the signs of both?
What need have I then of the flesh of victims or the flight of birds? Can I bear with him when he says, “This is expedient for you”? Does he know what is expedient, does he know what is good, has he learnt signs to distinguish between good things and bad, like the signs in the flesh of victims? If he knows the signs of good and evil, he knows also the signs of things noble and shameful, just and unjust.
It is yours, man, to tell me what is portended—life or death, poverty or wealth; but whether this is expedient or inexpedient I am not going to inquire of you.
—from Epictetus, Discourses 2.7
What am I to make of divination? Is it fitting to put my faith in prophecies? Perhaps I should worry a bit less about predicting the circumstances and a bit more about preparing my character.
Conventional wisdom will tell us how soothsaying is nothing but an obsolete superstition, though I continue to find supposed followers of “science” engaged in the most bizarre forms of wishful thinking. Whether we poke at the entrails or fiddle with the data until we arrive at the answers we prefer, all of us are tempted to let our passions run far ahead of our reason.
Whatever the current fashion, I try to keep an open mind regarding the workings of the Universe. I do know that every effect must have its cause, and I do know that the presence of order reveals the mark of design, but beyond that I am hesitant to proclaim any details of what Providence intends.
I have little doubt that events unfold as they are meant to unfold, and that the process leaves us with countless visible signs of its inner purpose. I do, however, have doubts about our capacity to interpret such signs with certainty, and so I am suspicious of anyone who foretells if I will become rich, find true love, or die at a ripe old age, especially when he is expecting a payment in return for his services.
Let us, for the sake of argument, assume that a gifted man does indeed have the skill to read the cards or to interpret the stars, and so he has an inside scoop on our future state. Now as convenient as that might be, how much should it really be changing the manner in which I choose to live? The foreknowledge of an imminent death does not alter a commitment to living with fortitude, just as winning the lottery does not remove the need for temperance.
On the whole, Stoicism tended to look kindly at divination, which I imagine stemmed from a trust in the guiding wisdom of the Logos; in that the world is always expressing a Divine Law, we are well-advised to heed its guidance, in all of its forms. Yet it is one thing to be sensitive to portents, and quite another to be crippled by premonitions: be conscious of what may come, while remaining constant in following the virtues, regardless of the impending outcomes.
I will listen cautiously to what the oracle has to say. At its very best, it will provide a meaningful context of fate, and at its very least, it will inspire me to proceed with prudence. Nevertheless, the prophecy itself cannot enlighten me in any way concerning the nature of the true and the good, merely on the particular conditions I might possibly face. God has already granted me the power of a conscience, which is more than sufficient to distinguish the benefit from the harm.
You have described what could happen to me, even as my own judgments must prescribe what I am going to do with what could happen to me. The seer discloses just the passive part of my destiny, and it is my responsibility to determine the active part; the setting is slightly different, while the task at hand remains precisely the same.
In the end, only the slave to fortune is swayed by omens. He who loves his nature will cling to his discernment of right from wrong, in riches or in poverty, in health or in sickness, in fame or in obscurity.
What am I to make of divination? Is it fitting to put my faith in prophecies? Perhaps I should worry a bit less about predicting the circumstances and a bit more about preparing my character.
Conventional wisdom will tell us how soothsaying is nothing but an obsolete superstition, though I continue to find supposed followers of “science” engaged in the most bizarre forms of wishful thinking. Whether we poke at the entrails or fiddle with the data until we arrive at the answers we prefer, all of us are tempted to let our passions run far ahead of our reason.
Whatever the current fashion, I try to keep an open mind regarding the workings of the Universe. I do know that every effect must have its cause, and I do know that the presence of order reveals the mark of design, but beyond that I am hesitant to proclaim any details of what Providence intends.
I have little doubt that events unfold as they are meant to unfold, and that the process leaves us with countless visible signs of its inner purpose. I do, however, have doubts about our capacity to interpret such signs with certainty, and so I am suspicious of anyone who foretells if I will become rich, find true love, or die at a ripe old age, especially when he is expecting a payment in return for his services.
Let us, for the sake of argument, assume that a gifted man does indeed have the skill to read the cards or to interpret the stars, and so he has an inside scoop on our future state. Now as convenient as that might be, how much should it really be changing the manner in which I choose to live? The foreknowledge of an imminent death does not alter a commitment to living with fortitude, just as winning the lottery does not remove the need for temperance.
On the whole, Stoicism tended to look kindly at divination, which I imagine stemmed from a trust in the guiding wisdom of the Logos; in that the world is always expressing a Divine Law, we are well-advised to heed its guidance, in all of its forms. Yet it is one thing to be sensitive to portents, and quite another to be crippled by premonitions: be conscious of what may come, while remaining constant in following the virtues, regardless of the impending outcomes.
I will listen cautiously to what the oracle has to say. At its very best, it will provide a meaningful context of fate, and at its very least, it will inspire me to proceed with prudence. Nevertheless, the prophecy itself cannot enlighten me in any way concerning the nature of the true and the good, merely on the particular conditions I might possibly face. God has already granted me the power of a conscience, which is more than sufficient to distinguish the benefit from the harm.
You have described what could happen to me, even as my own judgments must prescribe what I am going to do with what could happen to me. The seer discloses just the passive part of my destiny, and it is my responsibility to determine the active part; the setting is slightly different, while the task at hand remains precisely the same.
In the end, only the slave to fortune is swayed by omens. He who loves his nature will cling to his discernment of right from wrong, in riches or in poverty, in health or in sickness, in fame or in obscurity.
—Reflection written in 7/2001
IMAGE: Louis-Jean-Francois Lagrenée, Alexander Consulting the Oracle of Apollo (1789)
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