But in life we are not to consider what should be the punishment of each offense, but what is the rule of right to each individual. We are to consider everything that is not becoming as wicked, and everything which is unlawful as heinous.
What! Even in the most trifling matters? To be sure; for if we are unable to regulate the course of events, yet we may place a bound to our passions. If a player dances ever so little out of time, if a verse is pronounced by him longer or shorter by a single syllable than it ought to be, he is hooted and hissed off the stage.
And shall you, who ought to be better regulated than any gesture, and more regular than any verse shall you be found faulty even in a syllable of conduct? I overlook the trifling faults of a poet; but shall I approve my fellow-citizen’s life while he is counting his misdeeds with his fingers?
If some of these are trifling, how can it be regarded as more venial when whatever wrong is committed, is committed to the violation of reason and order? Now, if reason and order are violated, nothing can be added by which the offense can seem to be aggravated.
What! Even in the most trifling matters? To be sure; for if we are unable to regulate the course of events, yet we may place a bound to our passions. If a player dances ever so little out of time, if a verse is pronounced by him longer or shorter by a single syllable than it ought to be, he is hooted and hissed off the stage.
And shall you, who ought to be better regulated than any gesture, and more regular than any verse shall you be found faulty even in a syllable of conduct? I overlook the trifling faults of a poet; but shall I approve my fellow-citizen’s life while he is counting his misdeeds with his fingers?
If some of these are trifling, how can it be regarded as more venial when whatever wrong is committed, is committed to the violation of reason and order? Now, if reason and order are violated, nothing can be added by which the offense can seem to be aggravated.
—from Cicero, Stoic Paradoxes 3
I run the risk of only treating some of my vices seriously, worried about the ones that might trigger a harsh reprisal, and willing to ignore the ones where I can weasel my way out. I check the numbers twice on my taxes, because I don’t want to get a hefty fine, but I breeze my way through neglecting a friend, because he’s unlikely to see behind my cheap excuses.
Sometimes the consequences are greater, and sometimes they are lesser, but when it comes to the state of my conscience, each instance of wickedness is a corruption of the whole. Where Prudence, fortitude, temperance, and justice are broken, the harmony within the nature of the person is gravely disturbed.
Do the little things count? Just as much as the big things, in the sense that a breakdown at one level is a breakdown at every level, much like a flaw in the tiniest component will upset the workings of the entire machine. I know this to be true when my snarky comments restrict my peace of mind just as much as a full-blown temper tantrum, or that covetous gaze is already a surrender of my self-control.
This does not have to become what Catholics identify as scrupulosity, a distorted anxiety about sinning, if I can remember how my failings can always be opportunities for further improvement, and why they will cease to do me harm once I choose to be accountable for myself. Though it is fitting to seek the perfection of our nature, as much as it is within our power, learning from our mistakes is a necessary part of that process. Be firm with yourself, while also forgiving with yourself.
We will be disappointed with the musician who can’t play in tune, or the actor who fumbles his lines, so why should we not expect at least a competence of character in our daily living? We have something backwards when the performer is booed off a stage for the slightest blunder, and yet we look the other way when the simplest of decencies are abandoned.
What makes all the vices equally severe is that each and every one of them prevents our capacity to understand and to love. Whenever we go contrary to the rule of reason, we also make it impossible to exercise any goodwill. This is why the Stoics further made the radical claim that our vices are as crippling to us as a form of madness.
I run the risk of only treating some of my vices seriously, worried about the ones that might trigger a harsh reprisal, and willing to ignore the ones where I can weasel my way out. I check the numbers twice on my taxes, because I don’t want to get a hefty fine, but I breeze my way through neglecting a friend, because he’s unlikely to see behind my cheap excuses.
Sometimes the consequences are greater, and sometimes they are lesser, but when it comes to the state of my conscience, each instance of wickedness is a corruption of the whole. Where Prudence, fortitude, temperance, and justice are broken, the harmony within the nature of the person is gravely disturbed.
Do the little things count? Just as much as the big things, in the sense that a breakdown at one level is a breakdown at every level, much like a flaw in the tiniest component will upset the workings of the entire machine. I know this to be true when my snarky comments restrict my peace of mind just as much as a full-blown temper tantrum, or that covetous gaze is already a surrender of my self-control.
This does not have to become what Catholics identify as scrupulosity, a distorted anxiety about sinning, if I can remember how my failings can always be opportunities for further improvement, and why they will cease to do me harm once I choose to be accountable for myself. Though it is fitting to seek the perfection of our nature, as much as it is within our power, learning from our mistakes is a necessary part of that process. Be firm with yourself, while also forgiving with yourself.
We will be disappointed with the musician who can’t play in tune, or the actor who fumbles his lines, so why should we not expect at least a competence of character in our daily living? We have something backwards when the performer is booed off a stage for the slightest blunder, and yet we look the other way when the simplest of decencies are abandoned.
What makes all the vices equally severe is that each and every one of them prevents our capacity to understand and to love. Whenever we go contrary to the rule of reason, we also make it impossible to exercise any goodwill. This is why the Stoics further made the radical claim that our vices are as crippling to us as a form of madness.
—Refection written in 5/1999
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