Wisdom from the Early Cynics, Diogenes 41

Diogenes was returning from Olympia, and when somebody inquired whether there was a great crowd, "Yes," he said, "a great crowd, but few who could be called men." 

Libertines he compared to fig trees growing upon a cliff: whose fruit is not enjoyed by any man, but is eaten by ravens and vultures. 

When Phryne set up a golden statue of Aphrodite in Delphi, Diogenes is said to have written upon it: "From the licentiousness of Greece." 

Alexander once came and stood opposite him and said, "I am Alexander the Great King." 

"And I," said he, "am Diogenes the Hound." 

Being asked what he had done to be called a hound, he said, "I fawn on those who give me anything, I yelp at those who refuse, and I set my teeth in rascals." 

—Diogenes Laërtius, 6.60 

IMAGE: Gustave Doré, Diogenes (c. 1860) 

Jacob's Ladder 9

Gustave Doré, Jacob's Dream (1866) 

Sayings of Ramakrishna 265

So long as the heavenly expanse of the heart is troubled and disturbed by the gusts of desire, there is little chance of our beholding therein the brightness of God. 

The beatific vision occurs only in the heart which is calm and rapt up in divine communion. 

IMAGE: Gustave Doré, The Empyrean (1867) 

Sayings of Ramakrishna 256

The tears of repentance and the tears of happiness flow from the two different corners of the eye. 

The tears of repentance flow from the side near the nose, and the tears of happiness flow from the other extremity. 

IMAGE: Gustave Doré, The Valley of Tears (1883) 

Stoic Snippets 249

How unsound and insincere is he who says, "I have determined to deal with you in a fair way!"—What are you doing, man? There is no occasion to give this notice. It will soon show itself by acts. 

The voice ought to be plainly written on the forehead. Such as a man's character is, he immediately shows it in his eyes, just as he who is beloved forthwith reads everything in the eyes of lovers. 

The man who is honest and good ought to be exactly like a man who smells strong, so that the bystander as soon as he comes near him must smell, whether he choose or not. 

But the affectation of simplicity is like a crooked stick. Nothing is more disgraceful than a wolfish friendship. Avoid this most of all. The good and simple and benevolent show all these things in the eyes, and there is no mistaking. 

—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 11.15 

IMAGE: Gustave Doré, The Wolf Turned Shepherd (1868) 

Jacob Wrestling with the Angel 1

Genesis 32:22-32: 

The same night he arose and took his two wives, his two maids, and his eleven children, and crossed the ford of the Jabbok. He took them and sent them across the stream, and likewise everything that he had. 

And Jacob was left alone; and a man wrestled with him until the breaking of the day. When the man saw that he did not prevail against Jacob, he touched the hollow of his thigh; and Jacob’s thigh was put out of joint as he wrestled with him. 

Then he said, “Let me go, for the day is breaking.” 

But Jacob said, “I will not let you go, unless you bless me.” 

And he said to him, “What is your name?” 

And he said, “Jacob.” 

Then he said, “Your name shall no more be called Jacob, but Israel, for you have striven with God and with men, and have prevailed.” 

Then Jacob asked him, “Tell me, I pray, your name.” 

But he said, “Why is it that you ask my name?” And there he blessed him. 

So Jacob called the name of the place Peni′el, saying, “For I have seen God face to face, and yet my life is preserved." 

The sun rose upon him as he passed Penu'el, limping because of his thigh. Therefore to this day the Israelites do not eat the sinew of the hip which is upon the hollow of the thigh, because he touched the hollow of Jacob’s thigh on the sinew of the hip. 

Gustave Doré, Jacob Wrestling with the Angel (1855) 

The Wisdom of Solomon 17:1-21

[1] Great are your judgments and hard to describe;
therefore uninstructed souls have gone astray.
[2] For when lawless men supposed that they held
the holy nation in their power,
they themselves lay as captives of darkness
and prisoners of long night,
shut in under their roofs, exiles from eternal providence.
[3] For thinking that in their secret sins they were unobserved
behind a dark curtain of forgetfulness,
they were scattered, terribly alarmed,
and appalled by specters.
[4] For not even the inner chamber that held them
protected them from fear,
but terrifying sounds rang out around them,
and dismal phantoms with gloomy faces appeared.
[5] And no power of fire was able to give light,
nor did the brilliant flames of the stars
avail to illumine that hateful night.
[6] Nothing was shining through to them
except a dreadful, self-kindled fire,
and in terror they deemed the things which they saw
to be worse than that unseen appearance.
[7] The delusions of their magic art lay humbled,
and their boasted wisdom was scornfully rebuked.
[8] For those who promised to drive off the fears
and disorders of a sick soul
were sick themselves with ridiculous fear.
[9] For even if nothing disturbing frightened them,
yet, scared by the passing of beasts and the
hissing of serpents,
[10] they perished in trembling fear,
refusing to look even at the air, though it
nowhere could be avoided.
[11] For wickedness is a cowardly thing, condemned
by its own testimony;
distressed by conscience, it has always exaggerated
the difficulties.
[12] For fear is nothing but surrender of the helps
that come from reason;
[13] and the inner expectation of help, being weak,
prefers ignorance of what causes the torment.
[14] But throughout the night, which was really powerless,
and which beset them from the recesses of powerless Hades,
they all slept the same sleep,
[15] and now were driven by monstrous specters,
and now were paralyzed by their souls' surrender,
for sudden and unexpected fear overwhelmed them.
[16] And whoever was there fell down,
and thus was kept shut up in a prison not made of iron;
[17] for whether he was a farmer or a shepherd
or a workman who toiled in the wilderness,
he was seized, and endured the inescapable fate;
for with one chain of darkness they all were bound.
[18] Whether there came a whistling wind,
or a melodious sound of birds in wide-spreading branches,
or the rhythm of violently rushing water,
[19] or the harsh crash of rocks hurled down,
or the unseen running of leaping animals,
or the sound of the most savage roaring beasts,
or an echo thrown back from a hollow of the mountains,
it paralyzed them with terror.
[20] For the whole world was illumined with brilliant light,
and was engaged in unhindered work,
[21] while over those men alone heavy night was spread,
an image of the darkness that was destined to receive them;
but still heavier than darkness were they to themselves. 

IMAGE: Gustave Doré, The Ninth Plague: Darkness (1866) 

Seneca, Moral Letters 31.6

What we have to seek for, then, is that which does not each day pass more and more under the control of some power which cannot be withstood. 
 
And what is this? It is the soul—but the soul that is upright, good, and great. What else could you call such a soul than a god dwelling as a guest in a human body? 
 
A soul like this may descend into a Roman knight just as well as into a freedman's son or a slave. For what is a Roman knight, or a freedman's son, or a slave? They are mere titles, born of ambition or of wrong. One may leap to heaven from the very slums. Only rise 
 
“And mold thyself to kinship with thy God. “
 
This molding will not be done in gold or silver; an image that is to be in the likeness of God cannot be fashioned of such materials; remember that the gods, when they were kind unto men, were molded in clay. Farewell. 

—from Seneca, Moral Letters 31 
 
I have come to a point where I am simply baffled when people employ reason and will to subject themselves to objects so far beneath their dignity. Here is the capacity to understand occupied with what is thoughtless, and the freedom to choose enslaved by gratification. 
 
Yet it won’t do to grumble about how far we have fallen, if the only cure is to discover how far we can truly rise. 
 
We may not always be much to look at, but within each and every one of us is the remarkable power to rule ourselves, to take what happens to us and to form something new from it. While matter has no say in how it must behave, mind is itself an agent of meaning and purpose. 
 
Does my flesh fail me, and do my circumstances seem to stand against me? This need not hinder me, for who I am is measured by the excellence of my own thoughts, words, and deeds, not by the actions of anyone or anything else. I will be as happy or as miserable as I decide to be. Such a moral liberty is at the heart of the Stoic Turn. 
 
I foolishly cast blame outwards, even as the responsibility should be focused inwards; the soul marches to its own drum, let the body protest as it may. It would be a shame if I permitted that divine spark to go to waste. 
 
The great soul can be found under any conditions, so it will have nothing to do with coming from an established family or attending the proper schools—it is no accident that two of the most inspiring Stoic thinkers, Epictetus and Marcus Aurelius, were a slave and an emperor respectively. Wherever you find prudence, fortitude, temperance and justice, there you have a person of quality. 
 
If I am using my leverage to accumulate glittering prizes, I am using the wrong tools for the wrong ends. I come closest to God when I nurture the mind and heart within. 

—Reflection written in 12/2012 

IMAGE: Gustave Doré, The Highest Heaven (from Dante's Paradiso) (1868) 

Alpine Scene

Gustave Doré, Alpine Scene (1865) 

Cicero, Tusculan Disputations 1.23

M. “That which is always moved is eternal; but that which gives motion to something else, and is moved itself by some external cause, when that motion ceases, must necessarily cease to exist. 

 

“That, therefore, alone, which is self-moved, because it is never forsaken by itself, can never cease to be moved. Besides, it is the beginning and principle of motion to everything else; but whatever is a principle has no beginning, for all things arise from that principle, and it cannot itself owe its rise to anything else; for then it would not be a principle did it proceed from anything else. But if it has no beginning, it never will have any end; for a principle which is once extinguished cannot itself be restored by anything else, nor can it produce anything else from itself; inasmuch as all things must necessarily arise from some first cause. 

 

“And thus it comes about that the first principle of motion must arise from that thing which is itself moved by itself; and that can neither have a beginning nor an end of its existence, for otherwise the whole heaven and earth would be overset, and all nature would stand still, and not be able to acquire any force by the impulse of which it might be first set in motion. 

 

“Seeing, then, that it is clear that whatever moves itself is eternal, can there be any doubt that the soul is so? For everything is inanimate which is moved by an external force; but everything which is animate is moved by an interior force, which also belongs to itself. For this is the peculiar nature and power of the soul; and if the soul be the only thing in the whole world which has the power of self-motion, then certainly it never had a beginning, and therefore it is eternal.”

 

Now, should all the lower order of philosophers (for so I think they may be called who dissent from Plato and Socrates and that school) unite their force, they never would be able to explain anything so elegantly as this, nor even to understand how ingeniously this conclusion is drawn. 

 

The soul, then, perceives itself to have motion, and at the same time that it gets that perception, it is sensible that it derives that motion from its own power, and not from the agency of another; and it is impossible that it should ever forsake itself. And these premises compel you to allow its eternity, unless you have something to say against them.

 

A. I should myself be very well pleased not to have even a thought arise in my mind against them, so much am I inclined to that opinion.

 

When I read over this section, I find myself contrasting it to the earlier account of the soul finding its home by “rising” to the heavens. By different means, each proposes how our identity touches upon a greater and more permanent state that goes beyond the limitations of sensible matter. Whereas the previous claim was more symbolic, working from inclination and likeness, this argument proceeds from principles of motion and causality. 

 

Those familiar with Plato will certainly recognize the reasoning, but it also finds a home in so many different philosophical traditions, and I would venture to suggest that this is because a logical grasp of cause and effect is necessary in any sound explanation. My students, for example, will see the similarities to the Five Ways of St. Thomas Aquinas. 

 

Indeed, when I recently showed this passage to someone, she stopped for a moment to ask, “Wait, I’m confused. Is Cicero talking about the existence of God or the immortality of the soul here?”

 

“Yes,” I answered, as I do sometimes like to impishly play the cryptic guru, but more seriously because it can broadly apply to both, since the human mind can be seen as being in the image and likeness of the Divine Mind. 

 

If we look at things that move, we will notice how some are simply moved by something else, while others, to different degrees, go about moving themselves. It results in realizing how the former are more dependent, relying on external forces to act, and the latter are more independent, relying on their internal powers to act. 

 

Now whatever is less self-sufficient in its existence is also less complete in its being, and so is more subject to change and corruption, and whatever is more self-sufficient in its existence is also more complete in its being, and so is less subject to change and corruption. 

 

Or, in simpler terms, the causes are permanent, while the effects are temporary. Though the consequences come and go, the principles standing behind them remain the same. 

 

The Aristotelian or Thomist will express this by arguing that all potency must reduce to what is prior in act, and I find such language the most helpful for my own comprehension, but that would be a subject for another time, since I am already far too inclined to get lost in tangents. 

 

In an absolute sense, this can be about God, for the totality of the changeable flows from the ultimate perfection of the unchangeable. 

 

In a relative sense, this can also be about the human soul, for the mind is moved by its own judgments, not merely by the agency of things acting upon it. It rises above its conditions, so to speak, by its deliberate consciousness, and thereby stands on its own merits, regardless of what may happen to the body. 

 

Yet while it is one thing to say that the Divine Mind is eternal, as the origin and measure of all creatures, can the same properly be said of a human mind? 

 

Cicero’s discussion has been pushing the limits of what we might know with any certainty, though from a Stoic perspective, which stresses the unity of being, our individual awareness is but a manifestation of a Universal Awareness. Just as sparks fly out from a fire, or rays are cast off by the sun, so a human thought is a finite instance of an Infinite Presence. 

 

If it touches the Divine through its self-sufficiency, is it now divine by participation?

 

I do not know precisely what will become of me, though I do know that I will not end completely, only be radically transformed. Everything springs from the source, and finally returns right back into it. Perhaps it is enough to accept this? 

 

What form such an eternity will take, I cannot say; it is, at least, an improvement on a base attitude that despairs of any deeper meaning and purpose at all. 

Written in 4/1996

IMAGE: Gustave Doré, Paradiso, Canto V (1867)

Cicero, Tusculan Disputations 1.16

M. But as we are led by nature to think there are Gods, and as we discover, by reason, of what description they are, so, by the consent of all nations, we are induced to believe that our souls survive; but where their habitation is, and of what character they eventually are, must be learned from reason. 

 

The want of any certain reason on which to argue has given rise to the idea of the shades below, and to those fears which you seem, not without reason, to despise; for as our bodies fall to the ground, and are covered with earth (humus), from whence we derive the expression to be interred (humari), that has occasioned men to imagine that the dead continue, during the remainder of their existence, underground; which opinion has drawn after it many errors, which the poets have increased; for the theater, being frequented by a large crowd, among which are women and children, is wont to be greatly affected on hearing such pompous verses as these,

 

“Lo! here I am, who scarce could gain this place,

Through stony mountains and a dreary waste;

Through cliffs, whose sharpen’d stones tremendous hung,

Where dreadful darkness spread itself around.”

 

And the error prevailed so much, though indeed at present it seems to me to be removed, that although men knew that the bodies of the dead had been burned, yet they conceived such things to be done in the infernal regions as could not be executed or imagined without a body; for they could not conceive how disembodied souls could exist; and, therefore, they looked out for some shape or figure. This was the origin of all that account of the dead in Homer. This was the idea that caused my friend Appius to frame his necromancy; and this is how there got about that idea of the lake of Avernus, in my neighborhood,

 

“From whence the souls of undistinguish’d shape,

Clad in thick shade, rush from the open gate

Of Acheron, vain phantoms of the dead.”

 

And they must needs have these appearances speak, which is not possible without a tongue, and a palate, and jaws, and without the help of lungs and sides, and without some shape or figure; for they could see nothing by their mind alone—they referred all to their eyes. 

 

To withdraw the mind from sensual objects, and abstract our thoughts from what we are accustomed to, is an attribute of great genius. I am persuaded, indeed, that there were many such men in former ages; but Pherecydes the Syrian is the first on record who said that the souls of men were immortal, and he was a philosopher of great antiquity, in the reign of my namesake Tullius. 

 

His disciple Pythagoras greatly confirmed this opinion, who came into Italy in the reign of Tarquin the Proud; and all that country which is called Great Greece was occupied by his school, and he himself was held in high honor, and had the greatest authority; and the Pythagorean sect was for many ages after in such great credit, that all learning was believed to be confined to that name.

 

An instinct may point the way, and then reason tries to follow along the path, though oftentimes we find that the intellect struggles with the limit of its powers. We work with what the imagination at first provides, and so we still find ourselves bound to an incomplete awareness or a weak analogy. This is true when we wonder about a life after death, just as it is with so many inquiries in this life. 

 

The fact that our bodies are buried in the ground, or that they decay into the soil, may lead us to think that the soul, as the identity of the individual, somehow continues its existence underneath the earth. Earlier, the Auditor was dismissive of such an idea, finding it primitive and superstitious, but we must remember that the mind will make use of the most immediate and vivid images to discern some sort of meaning. 

 

I have myself stood by a grave, believing that a person I miss is beneath that slab, or held an object once possessed by someone I loved, feeling thereby closer to him, or looked into the eyes on a photograph, and taken them to be as if they were actual eyes. 

 

If I reflect in a less attached and more abstract manner, I might suspect that these things are not literally true, even as the figurative presence seems quite real to me. In such a case, the association can be something helpful to me for my own inner workings, and a danger will only arise if I start confusing how it feels to me right now with how it must be in and of itself. Then, what had been an aid to understanding becomes a hindrance to understanding.

 

Consciousness is grounded in the experience of the senses, and so it should come as no surprise that we regularly return to our first impressions as points of reference. If it exists for us, it seems most substantial if it has a physical form, and presents itself in a certain place, or appears with a particular shape. 

 

My thinking will only remain small, and therefore narrowly superstitious, if I do not examine beneath and beyond the images. This can sometimes be of great difficulty, where a step must be taken from the sensible to the intelligible. After all, if there is a being, I assume it must be visible, and if there is life, I assume it must have flesh and blood, and if a thought is expressed, I assume there must be spoken words by which it is uttered. 

 

Cicero here gives praise to Pherecydes and Pythagoras for being among the thinkers who encouraged us to have our minds rise above the material appearances alone, to make a transition, as we might say nowadays, from mythical symbols to scientific definitions. It makes it possible to ask whether the souls of the dead are like the stories about shades in the underworld, or whether it would be more accurate to speak of their existence in terms that are very different from the properties of our current experience. 

 

The senses perceive at one level, and the mind comprehends at another level. 

Written in 3/1996

IMAGE: Gustave Doré, Charon Herds the Sinners onto his Boat (1857)

Boethius, The Consolation of Philosophy 5.16

“‘But,’ you will say, ‘though foreknowledge is no necessity for a result in the future, yet it is a sign that it will necessarily come to pass.’ 

 
“Thus, therefore, even if there had been no foreknowledge, it would be plain that future results were under necessity; for every sign can only show what it is that it points out; it does not bring it to pass. Wherefore we must first prove that nothing happens but of necessity, in order that it may be plain that foreknowledge is a sign of this necessity.
 
“Otherwise, if there is no necessity, then foreknowledge will not be a sign of that which does not exist. Now it is allowed that proof rests upon firm reasoning, not upon signs or external arguments; it must be deduced from suitable and binding causes. How can it possibly be that things, which are foreseen as about to happen, should not occur? 
 
“That would be as though we were to believe that events would not occur which Providence foreknows as about to occur, and as though we did not rather think this, that though they occur, yet they have had no necessity in their own natures which brought them about. 
 
“We can see many actions developing before our eyes; just as chariot drivers see the development of their actions as they control and guide their chariots, and many other things likewise. Does any necessity compel any of those things to occur as they do? Of course not. All art, craft, and intention would be in vain, if everything took place by compulsion.”
 
—from Book 5, Prose 4
 
Fine, perhaps I have been jumping the gun. I may have to admit that God’s knowledge isn’t actually what makes something happen the way it does; can’t I continue to affirm that it still must happen the way it does, and so God’s knowledge is merely an indicator, a “sign”, of that inevitability? The inevitability would still be there! 
 
Still, I need to be careful about what I mean by something being inevitable or necessary. Yes, I can say that something has happened, or that it is happening, or that it will happen, and yet that does not necessarily imply that it could not be different, that it is impossible for it to be otherwise. 
 
I have done many things in my life, for example, a few of which I am proud, and a very many of which I am ashamed. There is unfortunately no changing them now, of course, well after the fact. Nevertheless, at the time I had a breadth of options open to me, and I could have followed any number of different paths. My own judgments moved me one way or another, making the results contingent, hardly inevitable or necessary. 
 
In whatever time that remains to me, I am also still going to do certain things, hopefully with somewhat of a better balance of gains and losses. They are not yet complete, even as they will depend on my future decisions, and even as I can hardly even imagine now what sort of situations I might face. There is no doubt that there will be results to come, but those result are not yet written in stone. 
 
Does God know what I have chosen in the past? Yes, just as I do, even though He surely knows me far better than I know myself. 
 
Does God know what I will choose in the future? Yes, even though for me they are only topics of wild speculation. 
 
I am sorely mistaken, however, if I think that I have to do anything because God already knows it, or even that God could only know it because I had no choice in doing it. I make the call, and God understands exactly the call I make. 
 
I have never driven a chariot, though I have tried my best at driving a car, and at least I was taught to always look around me, to always be aware of what was happening on the road. 
 
Perhaps I have been sloppy and distracted, however, and I suddenly see a tree growing larger in my windshield. The tree isn’t moving toward me, of course, but I am moving toward the tree, and it might seem that an impact is imminent. 
 
Must there be a crash? This whole situation wouldn’t have happened to begin with, if I’d paid attention a moment earlier, and it might still be resolved for the best if I react thoughtfully and quickly right now. Some variables will be up to me, and other variables will be up to forces far beyond me. 
 
To put it another way, I am not simply played upon by the world, but I am also myself a player in the world. Even as I am moved about by things outside me, I also continue to move myself. Providence accounts for that, and Providence understands that. 

Written in 1/2016

IMAGE: Gustave Doré, Allegory of Fate (1878)

Musonius Rufus, Lectures 8.7

It is also the prerogative of kings (if they enjoy any whatever) to be invincible in reason and to be able to prevail over disputants by their arguments, just as over their enemies by their arms. Thus when kings are weak in this, it stands to reason that often they are misled and forced to accept the false as the true, which is the price of folly and dense ignorance.

Now philosophy by its nature confers upon its devotees perhaps more than anything else the ability to remain superior to others in debate, to distinguish the false from the true, and to refute the one and to confirm the other.

Professional speakers, at any rate, whenever they enter into the give and take of argument with philosophers, one can see confused and confounded and obliged to contradict themselves. And yet if such speakers, whose business it is to practice debate, are caught because they are inferior to the philosophers in argument, what is bound to happen to other men?

Therefore if it is the ambition of anyone who is a king to be powerful in debate, he should study philosophy in order that he may not have to fear that anyone will prevail over him in this, for a king should be completely fearless and courageous and invincible.

The human good expresses itself through the virtues, not as rules imposed from without, but as principles springing from within. Every person is called to be just, to be temperate, and to be brave, because every person must learn to have respect for others, to bring order to his passions, and to find the strength to face his fears.

A leader is a person like any other, but he will require these virtues to the highest degree, since he has taken it upon himself to carry others along with him.

Wisdom is the last of the cardinal virtues treated here, even as it must be at the root of all the others. Once again, there can be no doing without an awareness of the doing, no action without the measure of purpose—the what must be preceded by a why.

A leader is still a person like any other, but he will require understanding to the highest degree, since he has taken it upon himself to guide others in forming good judgments.

Any sort of rule, whether it is a dominion over an entire country or just a dominion over one’s own soul, demands the knowledge of true from false, of right from wrong. We may struggle with the grave difficulties, with the seeming ambiguities, with the grueling oppositions, but that is the cornerstone of a good life. It is only a very real and practical engagement with philosophy that can make this possible.

“Yes, I think you’re right. I like my leaders to be smart!”

It doesn’t hurt to be intelligent, quick-witted, or possess a good memory, but I would suggest that wisdom is more than just being clever. Prudence is deeper than these skills, because it involves a deliberate commitment to discerning how ultimate questions of meaning apply to immediate concerns.

A smart man might quickly solve an equation, while a wise man will consider how that can assist us in being happy. If intelligence helps us to come up with solutions, prudence is what sets the goal for the ends we seek.

We will recognize the wise man when he clearly, calmly, and confidently explains his reasoning, from premises to conclusions.

“Sure, our leaders should be able to win in political debates.”

We must be certain what we mean by “winning” here. Most of what we consider debating is sadly about conflict over comprehension, about appearance over reality, about personality over principle.

If victory only means making another look the fool, then we are all fools for buying into such standards. If success only means laughing at the opposition, then the joke’s on us. If coming in first is only determined by an impressive display, then everyone comes in last.

Rhetoric, the art of convincing speech, is a wasted effort when it is divorced from a love of truth. The philosopher can also be eloquent, but he doesn’t play games.

“Right, leaders need to really convince people to follow them.”

By what means should they do so? Will it be enough to depend on the weight of their own authority, or appeal to the emotions of their listeners? What good will those do without the truth of what is actually being said?

“Follow me, because I am a great man, who has done marvelous things!” I’ve seen that path get us into loads of trouble.

“Follow me, because you know in your hearts that this great country can once again live up to the noble legacy of our forefathers!” Lots of cheering follows, without terribly much thinking.

“Follow love over greed, because no man ever found happiness divided from his neighbors.” That could be a beginning; those could be the words of a philosopher, and of a wise king.

Written in 9/1999

IMAGE: Gustave Doré, Solomon in Old Age (1866)

The Wisdom of Solomon 2:21-24

[21] Thus they reasoned, but they were led astray,
for their wickedness blinded them,
[22] and they did not know the secret purposes of God,
nor hope for the wages of holiness,
nor discern the prize for blameless souls;
[23] for God created man for incorruption,
and made him in the image of his own eternity,
[24] but through the devil's envy death entered the world,
and those who belong to his party experience it. 

IMAGE: Gustave Doré, Illustration from Milton's Paradise Lost (1866)

The best provision for old age?

"The best life, you will agree, is that of a good man, and yet the end even of such a man is death. Therefore, as I said before, if one in old age should succeed in mastering this lesson, to wait for death without fear and courageously, he would have acquired no small part of how to live without complaint and in accordance with Nature. He would acquire this by associating with men who were philosophers not in name only but in truth, if he were willing to follow their teachings.

"So it is that I tell you that the best viaticum for old age is the one I mentioned in the beginning, to live according to Nature, doing and thinking what one ought. For so an old man would himself be most cheerful and would win the praise' of others, and being thus, he would live happily and in honor.

"But if anyone thinks that wealth is the greatest consolation of old age, and that to acquire it is to live without sorrow, he is quite mistaken; wealth is able to procure for man the pleasures of eating, and drinking and other sensual pleasures, but it can never afford cheerfulness of spirit nor freedom from sorrow in one who possesses it. Witnesses to this truth are many rich men who are full of sadness and despair and think themselves wretched—evidence enough that wealth is not a good protection for old age."

--Musonius Rufus, Lectures 17 (trans Lutz)

I was a child at the tail end of America's great splurge of prosperity.  People who worked hard and applied themselves often had the pick of a career, and could usually go into retirement in reasonable comfort. I distinctly recall older men from my father's family speaking of that great moment when the work would cease, and the pension would begin. It seemed this was the dream, the goal for which I was to aim. Life would now begin at sixty.

It never helped, of course, that I chose a vocation where the possibility of saving for retirement was never really an option. I recall the moment, about fifteen years ago, when I did the math. Though salaried, I was earning less than minimum wage if I measured my work by the hour. I was offered a retirement package, but after I factored in the cost of family health insurance, I would have been bringing home less than $200 a week if I took the plan. A few years later, a new job 'temporarily' cancelled all employer contributions to retirement, as a cost-cutting measure, of course, and never restored them. It simply wasn't profitable for business.  See how these Christians love one another.

Yet I still watch all the ads on TV, the ones that tell us that the single most important thing in our old age is our financial security. For a good slice of our money, of course, someone will manage our assets to insure that we will fade off into the sunset in a state of material bliss. We still haven't learned the lesson, obviously. Define a man by his money, and you make him a slave to money. We never even consider defining a man by his actions, and not by his possessions.

Let, us, by all means, live in as much worldly security and comfort as we can bear, but let us also remember that any of these things are just a means to an end. That end is living well, according to Nature, informed by wisdom and virtue. You cannot buy a retirement plan for this. You can only build it by becoming a true philosopher. I don't mean being like the professional blowhards, because they already have their reward. I means the real folks that have figured out how to live according to the goods of the soul.

There will be no gain if I make my fortune while I have lied, cheated, and stolen to acquire it. If there are victims, destroyed or discarded, on the road to my version of happiness, there is no happiness. To say that dying well is the true benefit of old age is hardly negative, but the most wonderful thing. The stress is on the dying well, because we will all die. Have I learned to live with wisdom, courage, temperance, and justice? Then I have lived well, and I may die well. Care little for the rest.

As I write this, I am what they now call middle aged. Yet given the struggles I have with my health, I must calmly expect that I am far closer to old age. I need not despair. Have I learned to live well, with a love of truth and charity, in the time given me? This is all that matters, and the struggle continues while we still breathe.

Written on 10/06/2015

Image: Gustave Doré , King Solomon in Old Age (1866)

Elevating the mind.

"Make for yourself a definition or description of the thing which is presented to you, so as to see distinctly what kind of a thing it is in its substance, in its nudity, in its complete entirety, and tell yourself its proper name, and the names of the things of which it has been compounded, and into which it will be resolved.

"For nothing is so productive of elevation of mind as to be able to examine methodically and truly every object which is presented to you in life, and always to look at things so as to see at the same time what kind of universe this is, and what kind of use everything performs in it, and what value everything has with reference to the whole, and what with reference to man, who is a citizen of the highest city, of which all other cities are like families; what each thing is, and of what it is composed, and how long it is the nature of this thing to endure which now makes an impression on me, and what virtue I have need of with respect to it, such as gentleness, manliness, truth, fidelity, simplicity, contentment, and the rest.

"Wherefore, on every occasion a man should say: this comes from God; and this is according to the apportionment and spinning of the thread of destiny, and such-like coincidence and chance; and this is from one of the same stock, and a kinsman and partner, one who knows not however what is according to his nature."

--Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 3 (tr Long)

I find it humbling and helpful to ask myself regularly how fully I am committed to exercising and elevating the mind. A vague promise is easy, of course, but then I can put my seriousness to the test.

How much of my time and effort have I dedicated to my property, my reputation, the pleasures and perfections of my body? In contrast, how much of my time and effort have I dedicated to the clarity of my thinking?

I can easily deceive myself, of course, by claiming that my academic or professional endeavors are improvements of my mind. No, they are dedicated to my worldly gain in glory and profit, not to wisdom and virtue. I quickly understand how much I pursue what is outside of me, and how little I attend to what is within me. It is a call to improvement.

I once knew a fellow who committed almost all of his time to bodybuilding, honing and sculpting each set of muscles in turn with elaborate workouts and a precise nutritional plan.

One day he simply stared at me and said, with serious insight and a touch of horror, "how good a man could I be if I redirected all of this work to my soul?" Wise words.

To exercise and elevate the mind, to build the habit of sound judgment is to seek the true nature of things, to define them and their purpose with distinction and clarity, to understand what they are made of, where they are coming from, and where they are going.

It is further to pursue how all these parts relate to the whole, how I am joined to Nature and to my fellow man, however ignorant he may seem, how all things point toward the guiding principles of Providence, and how I must act for the higher good. It is seeing things not as vague and separated, but as complete and united.

A student, usually quiet and seemingly disinterested, once perked up and described this as "seeing all things reflected in the face of God." Even wiser words.

Written on 4/13/2010

Image: Gustave Doré, The Empyrean (Dante and Beatrice gazing into the Highest Heaven) (1867)