Do you threaten me with death, which is separating me from mankind? Or with exile, which is removing me from the wicked?
Death is dreadful to the man whose all is extinguished with his life; but not to him whose glory never can die. Exile is terrible to those who have, as it were, a circumscribed habitation; but not to those who look upon the whole globe but as one city.
Troubles and miseries oppress you who think yourself happy and prosperous. Your lusts torment you, day and night you are upon the rack; for whom that which you possess is not sufficient, and who are ever trembling lest even that should not continue; the consciousness of your misdeeds tortures you; the terrors of the laws and the dread of justice appall you; look where you will, your crimes, like so many furies, meet your view and suffer you not to breathe.
Therefore, as no man can be happy if he is wicked, foolish, or indolent, so no man can be wretched if he is virtuous, brave, and wise. Glorious is the life of that man whose virtues and practice are praiseworthy; nor indeed ought that life to be escaped from which is deserving of praise, though it might well be if it were a wretched one.
We are therefore to look upon whatever is worthy of praise as at once happy, prosperous, and desirable.
Death is dreadful to the man whose all is extinguished with his life; but not to him whose glory never can die. Exile is terrible to those who have, as it were, a circumscribed habitation; but not to those who look upon the whole globe but as one city.
Troubles and miseries oppress you who think yourself happy and prosperous. Your lusts torment you, day and night you are upon the rack; for whom that which you possess is not sufficient, and who are ever trembling lest even that should not continue; the consciousness of your misdeeds tortures you; the terrors of the laws and the dread of justice appall you; look where you will, your crimes, like so many furies, meet your view and suffer you not to breathe.
Therefore, as no man can be happy if he is wicked, foolish, or indolent, so no man can be wretched if he is virtuous, brave, and wise. Glorious is the life of that man whose virtues and practice are praiseworthy; nor indeed ought that life to be escaped from which is deserving of praise, though it might well be if it were a wretched one.
We are therefore to look upon whatever is worthy of praise as at once happy, prosperous, and desirable.
—from Cicero, Stoic Paradoxes 2
As children, we would often loudly protest against whatever tasks we were given, rallying around that mighty battle cry: “It’s no fun!” We stared back in confusion if a teacher suggested that things would only be as fun as we chose to make them. In hindsight, that right there was some brilliant philosophy.
Wherever I have discovered the meaning and the value in the work, there I have also found the satisfaction of a job well done. It only remains for me to decide whether I will seek out the benefit in every possible circumstance, or allow the immediate impressions to make my decisions for me.
This is true for both the mundane chores and the existential challenges. Doing the dishes or mowing the lawn becomes a pleasure when it is a labor of love, just as the threat of exile or of death loses its sting when our very honor is at stake. The more I understand the goodness within it, the more I will find my happiness in its eager pursuit.
If I merely view myself as a creature made to consume, my mortality will haunt me, because dying will mean an end to my shallow amusements. If I define my sense of worth through the fickle opinions of others, the prospect of banishment will terrify me, because I have no other measure for who I am.
If, however, I center my life around the simple practice of the virtues, I will no longer be so troubled by petty questions of duration or location. Such a peace of mind is complete at every moment, and it can be present in any place.
I often observe how a happy man might be rich and famous, but being rich and famous will never make a man happy. What use is there in possessing talent without wisdom? Strength without courage? Luxury without temperance? Prosperity without justice?
I recently read the biography of a legendary rock star, and my mind always came back to a single theme, running throughout the entire story: nothing the world could give him was able to compensate for what he had failed to be within himself. Indeed, as the perks constantly increased, his joys and hopes inevitably decreased. This is sadly a familiar tale for so many of our glitterati.
We become happy when we fulfill our human nature, and not by rearranging the furniture, so we will rise or fall through the content of our character. The only way to avoid being haunted by the Furies is to radically reform our own hearts and minds.
As children, we would often loudly protest against whatever tasks we were given, rallying around that mighty battle cry: “It’s no fun!” We stared back in confusion if a teacher suggested that things would only be as fun as we chose to make them. In hindsight, that right there was some brilliant philosophy.
Wherever I have discovered the meaning and the value in the work, there I have also found the satisfaction of a job well done. It only remains for me to decide whether I will seek out the benefit in every possible circumstance, or allow the immediate impressions to make my decisions for me.
This is true for both the mundane chores and the existential challenges. Doing the dishes or mowing the lawn becomes a pleasure when it is a labor of love, just as the threat of exile or of death loses its sting when our very honor is at stake. The more I understand the goodness within it, the more I will find my happiness in its eager pursuit.
If I merely view myself as a creature made to consume, my mortality will haunt me, because dying will mean an end to my shallow amusements. If I define my sense of worth through the fickle opinions of others, the prospect of banishment will terrify me, because I have no other measure for who I am.
If, however, I center my life around the simple practice of the virtues, I will no longer be so troubled by petty questions of duration or location. Such a peace of mind is complete at every moment, and it can be present in any place.
I often observe how a happy man might be rich and famous, but being rich and famous will never make a man happy. What use is there in possessing talent without wisdom? Strength without courage? Luxury without temperance? Prosperity without justice?
I recently read the biography of a legendary rock star, and my mind always came back to a single theme, running throughout the entire story: nothing the world could give him was able to compensate for what he had failed to be within himself. Indeed, as the perks constantly increased, his joys and hopes inevitably decreased. This is sadly a familiar tale for so many of our glitterati.
We become happy when we fulfill our human nature, and not by rearranging the furniture, so we will rise or fall through the content of our character. The only way to avoid being haunted by the Furies is to radically reform our own hearts and minds.
—Reflection written in 5/1999
IMAGE: Jacques Francois Ferdinand Lairesse, Orestes and the Furies (c. 1890)
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