Epictetus on Friendship 4

. . . You will utter the words of the father of Admetus!

“Life gives you pleasure; and why not your father?”

Do you think that Admetus did not love his own child when he was little? That he was not in agony when the child had a fever? That he did not often say, "I wish I had the fever instead of the child?" Then when the test came and was near, see what words they utter.

Were not Eteocles and Polynices from the same mother and from the same father? Were they not brought up together, had they not lived together, drunk together, slept together, and often kissed one another? So that, if any man, I think, had seen them, he would have ridiculed the philosophers for the paradoxes which they utter about friendship. But when a quarrel rose between them about the royal power, as between dogs about a bit of meat, see what they say.

Polynices: Where will you take your station before the towers?

Eteocles: Why do you ask me this?

Polynices:  I place myself opposite and try to kill you!

Eteocles: I also wish to do the same!

Such are the wishes that they utter. . . .

—Epictetus, Discourses 2.22, tr Long

History and myth are full of examples of those who were willing to sell friendship for their own narrow gain. These can serve as healthy warnings in our own lives, where it is so easy to ‘love’ another when they are convenient to us, and dispose of them when they are no longer so. We are seeing instances where we mistakenly think that the increase of our own good requires a decrease in the good of another.

Apollo, in return for the favor of hospitality, had granted Admetus, King of Pherae, the right to live many years beyond his normal lifespan. The gift, however, came with a price, as do so many such gifts. Admetus would have to find someone else to take his place when Death came calling for him.

I am reminded of the tragic story of Bhishma in Hindu lore, whom the Gods granted the power to choose the time of his own death.

Admetus asked his own father, Pheres, the very man who had raised him, to take his place. Admetus insists on his own continued survival at the expense of his father, and Pheres insists on his own continued survival at the expense of his son. Thereby, the proper bond of family and friendship is broken. Each opposed the good of the self with the good of the other.

Polynices and Eteolces were the sons of King Oedipus. Having learned nothing from the vanity and pride of their father, who sought to outwit Fate for his own greed, these brothers could not agree on how to rule the kingdom upon his death. They killed each other in the battle to control Thebes. Each opposed the good of the self with the good of the other.

We might think that our own daily lives are hardly the same, but they usually differ only in being slightly less epic in their scale.

A friend and I were once very angry at one another, and in a heated argument he asked why I was being so hateful. Now I loved this fellow, but out of simple vindictiveness, thinking that the satisfaction of my anger was greater than love, I said that there was not a drop of hate in me, only complete indifference. Both of us walked away far poorer people, and I was never able to recover his trust.

What comes around goes around. Someone once expressed undying love and friendship to me, whatever the circumstances. One day, I discovered a deception and a betrayal. To this day, decades later, she will still pass me on the street and look the other way, and I can hardly throw stones.

When another has hurt me, and I respond with resentment, friendship has not just been violated once, but twice. We compound the hurt. As soon as I add conditions to love, I am now the one guilty of betraying love. I have opposed the good of the self with the good of the other.

Written on 2/2002

Image: Hermann Kern, "Good Friends" (1904)

Epictetus on Friendship 3

 . . . Well then, did you never see little dogs caressing and playing with one another, so that you might say there is nothing more friendly? But, that you may know what friendship is, throw a bit of flesh among them, and you will learn.

Throw between yourself and your son a little estate, and you will know how soon he will wish to bury you and how soon you wish your son to die. Then you will change your tone and say, “What a son I have brought up! He has long been wishing to bury me.”

Throw a smart girl between you; and do you, the old man, love her, and the young one will love her too, If a little fame intervene, or dangers, it will be just the same. . . .

—Epictetus, Discourses 2.22, tr Long

We must be careful, at this point in the text, not to become distressed or discouraged. Epictetus will now offer a number of examples of the fickle and unreliable varieties of love and friendship, and he will show how base and cruel we can all truly be. Think of these, perhaps, as viewing the symptoms before we can consider a cure. Understanding all the abuses of our nature can help us to understand how to live with it rightly.

I also need to remind myself that, for all of his skill at presenting an argument directly and clearly, Epictetus hardly has the best bedside manner of all the Stoic philosophers.

The analogy of animals can be of assistance, for few things seem as affectionate as the playfulness and tenderness of animals. But place some different desire in the way of the affection, and we will be overcome by their viciousness.

Yet there are immediate limits to such an analogy. The animal is ruled by feeling and instinct alone, and will act based upon such appearances alone. Now man also possesses such feelings and instincts, but surely his judgment of the good can direct his awareness of the good? Hence the good will only be what is pleasing to the animal, but it can be what is virtuous for a man.

It certainly should be what is virtuous for a man, but observe how often this is not the case. It is right and good for an animal to be just an animal, but not for a man to be just an animal. We nevertheless act just like animals all the time, because we surrender our reason by choosing to be ruled only by our passions.

The desire for money, or pleasure, or fame all too readily breaks the bonds of friendship that reason asks of us. If I choose to judge beyond the external appearances, I will understand that there should be unity and fellowship between men. We were all made for the same purpose, to act with wisdom and with virtue, and there needs to be absolutely no conflict or competition for all of us to share in those same goods.

But as soon as I say I want wealth, or sex, or reputation more than I want character, I have chosen to flip the order of human priorities. I will now sell out the good of my friend, a good clear to sound thinking, for the good of my passions, a false appearance of the human good. 

Written on 2/2002

Image: Hermann Kern, "Good Friends" (1904)

Epictetus on Friendship 2

. . . 'How is this?' a man may say; I am foolish, and yet love my child. 

I am surprised indeed that you have begun by making the admission that you are foolish. For what are you deficient in? Can you not make use of your senses? Do you not distinguish appearances? Do you not use food which is suitable for your body, and clothing and habitation? Why then do you admit that you are foolish?

It is in truth because you are often disturbed by appearances and perplexed, and their power of persuasion often conquers you; and sometimes you think these things to be good, and then the same things to be bad, and lastly neither good nor bad; and in short you grieve, fear, envy, are disturbed, you are changed.

This is the reason why you confess that you are foolish. And are you not changeable in love? But wealth, and pleasure and, in a word, things themselves, do you sometimes think them to he good and sometimes bad? And do you not think the same men at one time to be good, at another time bad? And have you not at one time a friendly feeling toward them and at another time the feeling of an enemy? And do you not at one time praise them and at another time blame them?

'Yes; I have these feelings also.' Well then, do you think that he who has been deceived about a man is his friend? 'Certainly not.'

And he who has selected a man as his friend and is of a changeable disposition, has he good-will toward him? 'He has not.'

And he who now abuses a man, and afterward admires him? 'This man also has no good-will to the other.' . . .

—Epictetus, Discourses 2.22, tr Long

We may not always like admitting that we are fools, but we like it even less if we are asked to think that our foolishness hinders our capacity to love. Surely I may love my family and friends, even when my thinking is off?

I hardly think that Epictetus is assuming any malice, but he still insists that our ability to express and act with any true good will is directly related to our awareness of what is right.

How many times has our power to do good for our friends depended upon a good or bad decision? Again, we may somehow want what is good, but we can hardly do it when we don’t first understand it.

I can begin with something not nearly as personally uncomfortable. It was once my intention to help my family by personally fixing a quirky appliance that had been causing us problems for months. I thought it best to surprise them with a newly restored device, and I was certain this would save us the repair costs, make everyone’s life easier, and spread joy throughout the land.

Everything seemed to be going well at first, but in the end my attempt at doing right went horribly wrong. I didn’t quite understand the inner workings of the beast, and my efforts simply caused us more problems, more money, and more frustrations. I was fortunate to be forgiven, but I certainly learned my lesson.

I will only quickly gloss over a similar fiasco, where we thought we could easily manage grooming a longhaired cat.

I can now morally dig a little deeper. Even when I have convinced myself that I acted with a desire to do right, I have often caused great grief and pain for others through lazy or selfish judgment. I allowed a false appearance of the good to overcome the real apprehension of the good.

How often have I told that little lie to supposedly save myself an inconvenience, only to find I have hurt someone more than if I had spoken with honesty and kindness? How often have I treated one person with grave disrespect in order to win the respect of another? How often have I laughed in ridicule, while pretending it was all in good fun?

Even with the appearance of the best of intentions, we allow our impressions, our changeable instincts and feelings, to get the better of us. And we do this out of a foolish ignorance. I need only think how surrendering to my frustration or anger has led me to hate instead of love.

Changing my standard of love as feelings or circumstances change can hardly be considered friendship. It can’t even really be ‘good’ will, if I’m not grasping what is good to begin with.

In the end, I don’t think I’ve ever managed to love someone by deceiving, defrauding, or rejecting.

Written on 2/2002

Image: Hermann Kern, "Good Friends" (1904)

Epictetus on Friendship 1

What a man applies himself to earnestly, that he naturally loves. Do men then apply themselves earnestly to the things which are bad? By no means. 

Well, do they apply themselves to things which in no way concern themselves? Not to these either. 

It remains, then, that they employ themselves earnestly only about things which are good; and if they are earnestly employed about things, they love such things also. Whoever, then, understands what is good, can also know how to love; but he who cannot distinguish good from bad, and things which are neither good nor bad from both, can he possess the power of loving? To love, then, is only in the power of the wise. . . .

--Epictetus, Discourses 2.22, tr Long

A first principle of Stoicism is that we desire what we think is good, and we shun what we think is bad. Even when we seek what may in itself be harmful or evil, we remain under the impression that such a thing will somehow do us good. It is only our ignorance of the good, in whatever form, for whatever cause, or to whatever degree, that is at the root of vice.

This model may indeed seem odd for some of us. Surely, the thief, or the liar, or the murderer know full well that what they are doing is wrong? Surely they have a conscience? One must distinguish.They may perhaps only understand principles of what is morally right in a very vague and imprecise way. They may be thinking in one abstract realm, and living in a very different practical one. They may even only fear the shame in the discovery of their acts, and not shun the acts themselves. Or they may, in fact, be fully misguided and misled on the difference between right and wrong.

I have pursued the wrong things often enough to recognize that, as I was choosing them and acting upon them, I really thought that they were best.

We hesitate, and I think rightly, to label people as being without a conscience, or of being 'bad' people. We need not become angry, vindictive, or dismissive of others ourselves, for then we become just like those people we too quickly condemn. Perhaps we can, in  genuine justice, concern, and charity, recognize why we all sometimes live poorly, and recognize that the only solution to changing the way we live is to freely change how we think and what we desire.

The grasping, dishonest, or violent man still shares in the same human nature that all of us share. The only difference is that he has a very different sense of the identity of the good than does the virtuous man. So I can practice virtue in return, and I can help him, in whatever way I am able, to see that true good.

Here, then, is the core of Epictetus' argument. If we only desire what is good for us, it is our judgment of the good that will determine whether we live well, or we live poorly. If I cannot rightly distinguish right from wrong to begin with, I can hardly live with decency. This is why wisdom is necessary to love, because I can hardly love rightly if I don not know what to love, and why to love it.

Don't confuse the wise man, the philosopher, simply with someone who is well read or educated. Sometimes those two go together well, and sometimes they don't. Consider the philosopher, the lover of wisdom, as the man who understands who he is, why he is here, and therefore how he should go about living.

Stoicism always stresses the direct and immediate link between judgment and action. Show me someone who treats his neighbors poorly, and I can fairly tell that we have someone who thinks poorly about himself and others. Conversely, show me someone who judges wrongly of all the wrong things, and I am inclined to predict that he is not yet able to practice true justice and friendship.

The Stoic will say that a man's good is measured by his own thoughts, decisions, and actions, by what is within his power. Accordingly, such a person will act in a way that shows virtue, or moral excellence, to be the highest human good. The traditional Cardinal Virtues of the Ancients were prudence, justice, fortitude, and temperance. He will treat both himself and his fellows with love and respect, because he recognizes that we all share in that very same nature and purpose.

Now imagine if we were to replace such goods with other apparent goods. If I desire pleasure, or power, or wealth, or fame, the Stoic would say that I have replaced the internal, of something that is within my power, with what is external, of that which outside of my power. My own actions toward others will now become measured by how effectively they give me access to the externals I desire. Such a man will now appear to be honest, fair, or peaceful with his neighbor if these actions bring him the worldly success he craves, but he will just as readily be dishonest, unfair, and violent if he thinks these actions will bring him what he desires.

What I truly love, whether it be the internal or the external, virtue or position, will determine most everything about my character. It will also determine who and what I love, and how I treat all those people we all call our 'friends'.

Written on 2/2002

Image: Hermann Kern, "Good Friends" (1904)

On Anxiety 5

. . . "When, then, you are mounted on a horse and go into a plain, are you anxious at being matched against a man who is on foot, and anxious in a matter in which you are practiced, and he is not? 'Yes, but that person has power to kill me.'

"Speak the truth then, unhappy man, and do not brag, nor claim to be a philosopher, nor refuse to acknowledge your masters, but so long as you present this handle in your body, follow every man who is stronger than yourself.

Socrates used to practice speaking, he who talked as he did to the tyrants, to the jurors, he who talked in his prison.

"Diogenes had practiced speaking, he who spoke as he did to Alexander, to the pirates, to the person who bought him. These men were confident in the things which they practiced.

"But do you walk off to your own affairs and never leave them: go and sit in a corner, and weave syllogisms, and propose them to another. There is not in you the man who can rule a state."

--Epictetus, Discourses 2.13 (trans Long)

I often think that the virtue of courage is deeply misunderstood. We readily confuse it with mere brute force, strength, or toughness. We ridicule those who seem to have difficulty facing their obstacles, advise them to "get over it", and parade our own power over our circumstances.

The truly brave man does not put others down, he does not admire his own power, and he most certainly is not brave because he rules his circumstances. No man rules his circumstances, though he may be deceived into thinking so when the wind happens to blow his way. I suspect we sometimes confuse the brave man with the bully, who is, in my experience, the weakest man on the inside, though he puffs himself up on the outside.

A man is not courageous because he has power over others, but because he has power over himself. I need not be handsome, rich, influential, or physically strong to be that sort of man. A brave man faces his fear and anxiety by understanding that he can always trust in his ability to rule himself, and he cares little for all that is beyond this.

I will not mock or ridicule those who are self-important, but I can certainly try to be like Socrates or Diogenes. These were men who spoke their minds equally to anyone and everyone, were committed to what was true, and smiled at the circumstances of the world that faced them.

Socrates was an honest and brave man, because he acted in exactly the same way to his enemies and to his friends. Diogenes was not intimidated by his captors, not because he was a tough guy, but because he knew they could do no true harm to him, and he joked that no master owned him, but he owned the master.

A man is never a coward because he feels fear or anxiety, but he is a coward if he allows his concerns to rule him. These concerns are illusions, because they arise from depending upon conditions that do not define our nature and our happiness. Let us not dismiss others, but rather help one another to make that necessary judgment.

They say that no one can love another if he does not love himself, and similarly that no one can rule another if he cannot rule himself.  Let us not be deceived by philosophers who spout moving rhetoric and impressive logical proofs. The measure of whether they are real philosophers is if they act with conviction and integrity.

Written in 11/1998

Image: Edvard Munch, Anxiety (1894)

On Anxiety 4

. . . "Should I try to please you? Why? I suppose, you know the measure by which one man is estimated by another. Have you taken pains to learn what is a good man and what is a bad man, and how a man becomes one or the other? Why, then, are you not good yourself?

"'How,' he replies,' am I not good?' Because no good man laments or roans or weeps, no good man is pale and trembles, or says ''How will he receive me, how will he listen to me?' Slave, just as it pleases him.

"Why do you care about what belongs to others? Is it now his fault if he receives badly what proceeds from you? 'Certainly.' And is it possible that a fault should be one man's, and the evil in another? 'No.' Why then are you anxious about that which belongs to others? 'Your question is reasonable; but I am anxious how I shall speak to him.'

"Cannot you then speak to him as you choose? 'But I fear that I may be disconcerted?' If you are going to write the name of Dion, are you afraid that you would be disconcerted? 'By no means.' Why? is it not because you have practiced writing the name? 'Certainly.'

"Well, if you were going to read the name, would you not feel the same? and why? Because every art has a certain strength and confidence in the things which belong to it. Have you then not practiced speaking? and what else did you learn in the school? Syllogisms and sophistical propositions? For what purpose? was it not for the purpose of discoursing skillfully? and is not discoursing skillfully the same as discoursing seasonably and cautiously and with intelligence, and also without making mistakes and without hindrance, and besides all this with confidence? 'Yes.' . . .

--Epictetus, Discourses 2.13 (trans Long)

Many of us are familiar with that instinctive nervous feeling when we walk into a room full of people. What must we do to appear worthy of respect? We must not forget that the good man need not worry about the way he appears. He looks to the content of his soul, and does not rely upon the estimation of others. Another good man will surely recognize him simply by his character, and a bad man's opinion will already be disordered.

Anxiety is countered by confidence, not one of show or bravado, but a peace of mind that comes from the knowledge and practice of what is right and good. The man who tries to impress may seem strong, because he asserts his will and wins people over. He is, in fact, rather weak, because his very sense of identity depends upon being recognized.

I knew a fellow a few years back who was the typical lady's man. Rich, handsome, and charming, he always had a woman at his side. But he had an interesting quirk, one which he came to recognize in himself when it caused him great loss. Whoever he was with, he would still feel the need to pay his full attention to another woman. He eventually realized that he always wanted something that he didn't already have. So it is with any grasping person, and so it is with the seeker of attention and fame, because he fills what is empty within him from what is outside of him.

What we fear about our relations with others is what they make think of us, when all we need to be concerned about is whether we have done well to them, The rest will inevitably take care of itself.

Written in 11/1998

Image: Edvard Munch, Anxiety (1894)

Stoic Music 16

For all my years in love with music, I don't think I have ever personally run into a fellow fan of Talk Talk. More's the pity. These fellows, led by Mark Hollis, started out as a new wave band, but slowly evolved into what was eventually called Post-Rock, ten years after Hollis and his mates had pushed the boundaries.

I wouldn't impose those odd later works on anyone, but if you desperately wish your mind to be blown, you need only listen to Spirit of Eden (1988) and Laughing Stock (1991).

I once had a girl interested in me during college, which was a very rare event, after I played her their music. Sadly, she was more interested in the image of the music than the reality of me. A good life lesson.

From their more accessible 'middle period', I still always return to these two songs. Both were minor hits. The lyrics were always mysterious, but I saw my own experience in them. "It's My Life" and "Life's What You Make It" were, in so many ways, a musical introduction to the principles of Stoic thinking for me.

I still play the bass line from "It's My Life" whenever I see a bass guitar, and I play the left hand piano part from "Life's What You Make It" whenever I come across a piano. It is a temptation I cannot resist. This is very annoying for others, but tells me quite a bit about what I really love.

Written in 7/1999

Talk Talk, "It's My Life", from It's My Life (1984)

Talk Talk, "Life's What You Make It", from The Colour of Spring (1986)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cFH5JgyZK1I

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RQH1i_zZ-_M

"It's My Life"

Funny how I find myself in love with you
If I could buy my reasoning I'd pay to lose
One half won't do

I've asked myself
How much do you commit yourself?

It's my life
Don't you forget
It's my life
It never ends

Funny how I blind myself
I never knew if I was sometimes played upon
Afraid to lose
I'd tell myself what good you do
Convince myself

It's my life
Don't you forget
It's my life
It never ends

I've asked myself
How much do you commit yourself?

It's my life
Don't you forget
Caught in the crowd
It never ends

"Life's What You Make It"

Baby, life's what you make it
Can't escape it

Baby, yesterday's favorite
Don't you hate it

Baby, life's what you make it
Don't back date it

Baby, don't try to shade it
Beauty is naked

Baby, life's what you make it
Celebrate it
Anticipate it
Yesterday's faded
Nothing can change it
Life's what you make it

Stoic Music 15

My second favorite song by the great Nik Kershaw, though the first I ever heard by him, back in 1984, and the one that got me hooked.

What a brilliant expression of everything we learn from Stoicism, whether or not Kershaw intended it. Why do we feel unhappy? Because we desire what others have, what is beyond our power, and we tragically neglect everything that is truly our own. And the man who desires what is beyond himself is never content, because he always craves for more.

The fact is, it's fairly simple to live without a care, depending upon what we care about. That second bit is our greatest burden.

This bass line was much easier to learn, but the video is just as cryptic as his others. I enjoy that!

Written in 5/1997

Nik Kershaw, "Wouldn't It Be Good?", from Human Racing (1984)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0IHlCmymQ3M

 I got it bad, you don't know how bad I got it
You got it easy, you don't know when you've got it good
It's getting harder just keeping life and soul together
I'm sick of fighting, even though I know I should

The cold is biting through each and every nerve and fiber
My broken spirit is frozen to the core
I don't want to be here no more

Wouldn't it be good to be in your shoes
Even if it was for just one day
Wouldn't it be good if we could wish ourselves away

Wouldn't it be good to be on your side
The grass is always greener over there
Wouldn't it be good if we could live without a care

You must be joking, you don't know a thing about it
You've got no problem, I'd stay right there if I were you
I got it harder, you couldn't dream how hard I got it
Stay out of my shoes if you know what's good for you

The heat is stifling, burning me up from the inside
The sweat is coming through each and every pore
I don't want to be here no more
I don't want to be here no more
I don't want to be here no more

Wouldn't it be good to be in your shoes
Even if it was for just one day
Wouldn't it be good if we could wish ourselves away

Wouldn't it be good to be on your side
The grass is always greener over there
And wouldn't it be good if we could live without a care

I got it bad, you don't know how bad I got it
You got it easy, you don't know when you've got it good
It's getting harder just keeping life and soul together
I'm sick of fighting, even though I know I should

On Anxiety 3

. . . "For this reason when Zeno was going to meet Antigonus, he was not anxious, for Antigonus had no power over any of the things which Zeno admired; and Zeno did not care for those things over which Antigonus had power. But Antigonus was anxious when he was going to meet Zeno, for he wished to please Zeno; but this was a thing external. But Zeno did not want to please Antigonus; for no man who is skilled in any art wishes to please one who has no such skill." . . .

--Epictetus, Discourses 2.13 (trans Long)

Zeno of Citium, the founder of Stoicism, was well known for his modesty, simplicity, and humility. It is often said that his specific flavor of philosophy differed from that of the Cynics, specifically that of his teacher, Crates of Thebes, in his rejection of their shamelessness.

Antigonus, King of Macedonia, and a descendant of one of Alexander's generals, was a great admirer of the philosophers, and of Zeno in particular. The story has it that whenever the king visited Athens, he always made certain to attend Zeno's lectures, and he repeatedly invited the philosopher to his court.

I often imagine what must have happened when Antigonus spoke with Zeno, or when Alexander spoke with Diogenes. We know only the tales told about these meetings, but what makes these encounters so wonderful is the odd pairing of a the king and a philosopher. Diogenes apparently told Alexander to step out of his light, and Zeno apparently declined an offer to move to Macedon.

As egalitarian as we think we are, we still nervously scrape and bow to the rich, powerful, and famous. It seems only natural to pay homage to those we think are greater than ourselves, and we are anxious to please our supposed betters. It seems that for Zeno or Diogenes the roles were wonderfully reversed. Epictetus tells us that Zeno was not anxious to meet Antigonus, but that Antigonus was quite anxious to meet Zeno.

We can only understand this if we consider the measure of their power. Antigonus had great power of externals, and admired Zeno for his wisdom. Because, like so many rulers of men, he saw the world through his circumstances, he wished to impress the philosopher. This made him anxious.

Zeno had no power over any externals, but he had power over himself. Because, like so many great philosophers, he saw the world through his character, he had no reason impress a king. This gave him no anxiety at all.

I still sometimes see the great worldly successes of some of my peers, and I will still feel jealous. I feel anxious because I did not become what they did. Then I need think only of Zeno, or of Diogenes. I need not measure myself by such standards. I can be blessed only with the satisfaction of myself, while I see others grappling for influence and importance.

I once felt very nervous, because I was about to be scolded by a powerful superior. I had, like any impetuous young would-be philosopher, done something to upset correct sensibilities. I recall the moment well, because I had a sudden realization that I had no reason to be fearful or concerned at all.

I immediately knew that I ruled myself, and I needed to care for nothing more. The beautiful irony was that the man who had power over all the externals was the fellow that squirmed and stuttered in worry during our conversation. I told him I would follow my conscience, and he could do as he pleased.

I haven't always managed to do something that well, but it remains a reminder that any one of us can be like Zeno, or like Diogenes. We need not be anxious about the Antigonus, or the Alexander, in our lives.

Written in 11/1998

Image: Edvard Munch, Anxiety (1894)

On Anxiety 2

. . . "I cannot then say that a man is not a lute player when I see him afraid, but I can say something else, and not one thing, but many. And first of all I call him a stranger and say, 'This man does not know in what part of the world he is, but though he has been here so long, he is ignorant of the laws of the State and the customs, and what is permitted and what is not; and he has never employed any lawyer to tell him and to explain the laws.'

"But a man does not write a will, if he does not does not know how it ought to be written, or he employs a person who does know; nor does he rashly seal a bond or write a security. But he uses his desire without a lawyer's advice, and aversion, and pursuit, and attempt and purpose.

"'How do you mean without a lawyer?' He does not know that he wills what is not allowed, and does not will that which is of necessity; and he does not know either what is his own or what is or what is another man's; but if he did know, he could never be impeded, he would never be hindered, he would not be anxious.

"'How so?' Is any man then afraid about things which are not evil? 'No.'

"Is he afraid about things which are evils, but still so far within his power that they may not happen? 'Certainly he is not.'

"If, then, the things which are independent of the will are neither good nor bad, and all things which do depend on the will are within our power, and no man can either take them from us or give them to us, if we do not choose, where is room left for anxiety?

"But we are anxious about our poor body, our little property, about the will of Caesar; but not anxious about things internal. Are we anxious about not forming a false opinion? No, for this is in my power. About not exerting our movements contrary to nature? No, not even about this.

"When then you see a man pale, as the physician says, judging from the complexion, this man's spleen is disordered, that man's liver; so also say, this man's desire and aversion are disordered, he is not in the right way, he is in a fever. For nothing else changes the color, or causes trembling or chattering of the teeth, or causes a man to sink in his knees and shift from foot to foot." . . . 

--Epictetus, Discourses 2.13 (trans Long)

What Epictetus has to say here may seem unnecessarily harsh, but we must understand it within the context of a judgment that is meant to be helpful, not a judgment that is meant to be dismissive. The fact remains that only an ignorance of what is good and right makes us anxious, fearful, or worried.

Thankfully, Epictetus employs an analogy here. I would surely have to clock out early if my happiness literally depended upon the advice of most of the lawyers we see in our times. No, the analogy is about knowing what we are doing, how we should do it, and why we should be doing it.

One would hardly form a contract, write a will, or engage in a financial transaction without knowing the specifics of the law, or at least seeking the guidance of those who know it.

Likewise, one would hardly commit to the most basic standards of life, the measures of right and wrong, without knowing the good, or seeking the guidance of those who know it.

Consult the lawyer when you need success in matters of business, but consult the true philosopher when you need success in matters of character.

Better yet, be that true philosopher yourself. No formal training is necessary, only a good will, an open and critical mind, and regular dedication and practice. Your own life experiences are enough to be your school. There will also be no student loans.

If I were to understand the law, and be able to make it my own, I would be in no fear of losing what is rightly my own. Similarly, if I were to understand the moral good, and be able to make it my own, I would be in no fear of losing what is rightly my own.

Now the lawyers make a pretty penny from their knowledge, and the true philosophers might make no financial profit at all from their knowledge, but that shows us exactly where the analogy crumbles. We gain what we desire, and we must therefore be careful of what we desire. The profit of greed and the profit of character hang in the balance here.

The only thing good for man is that which is within his power, his will and action, and all indifferent externals depend upon the merit of his will and action. Where, pray tell, is there anything to lose? We only lose when we care about all the wrong things.

Just as I can be sick in my body, I can also just as well be sick in my soul. And just as the sickness in my body is from a deficiency or excess, so too the sickness in my soul is from a deficiency or excess.

Ignorance of the good is the cancer of the soul. Anxiety is the symptom of that cancer.

Written in 11/1998

Image: Edvard Munch, "Anxiety" (1894)

 

Anxiety, Stoicism, and Monty Python

When I first met my wife, she kindly showed herself to be deeply patient with me. I had already gone through years of the meat grinder, and I had taught myself just a little bit about what I thought was, and was not, worth worrying about.

She was just getting started. So every time she began being deeply concerned about the external frustrations of our lives, I would simply stop and play her this brilliant track by Monty Python.

Now I know I could have been kinder about it. I have a dark sense of humor, and it has thankfully mellowed over the years. But the Pythons hit it right on the nose. It serves no purpose for me to be anxious about what I cannot control, and I have no need to be anxious about the things I can control.

Written in 7/2010

Monty Python, "I'm So Worried",  from Monty Python's Contractual Obligation Album (1980)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PvzCuJUqqvw

 I'm so worried about what's hapenin' today, in the middle east, you know
And I'm worried about the baggage retrieval system they've got at Heathrow
I'm so worried about the fashions today, I don't think they're good for your feet
And I'm so worried about the shows on TV that sometimes they want to repeat

I'm so worried about what's happenin' today, you know
And I'm worried about the baggage retrieval system they've got at Heathrow
I'm so worried about my hair falling out and the state of the world today
And I'm so worried about bein' so full of doubt about everything, anyway

I'm so worried about modern technology
I'm so worried about all the things that they dump in the sea
I'm so worried about it, worried about it, worried, worried, worried

I'm so worried about everything that can go wrong
I'm so worried about whether people like this song
I'm so worried about this very next verse, it isn't the best that I've got
And I'm so worried about whether I should go on, or whether I should just stop

I'm worried about whether I ought to have stopped
And I'm worried about, it's the sort of thing I ought to know
And I'm worried about the baggage retrieval system they've got at Heathrow

I'm so worried about whether I should have stopped then
I'm so worried that I'm driving everyone 'round the bend
I'm worried about the baggage retrieval system they've got at Heathrow

On Anxiety 1

"When I see a man anxious, I say, 'What does this man want? If he did not want something which is not in his power, how could he be anxious?'

"For this reason a lute player when he is singing by himself has no anxiety, but when he enters the theater, he is anxious even if he has a good voice and plays well on the lute; for he not only wishes to sing well, but also to obtain applause: but this is not in his power. Accordingly, where he has skill, there he has confidence.

"Bring any single person who knows nothing of music, and the musician does not care for him. But in the matter where a man knows nothing and has not been practiced, there he is anxious. What matter is this? He knows not what a crowd is or what the praise of a crowd is. However he has learned to strike the lowest chord and the highest; but what the praise of the many is, and what power it has in life he neither knows nor has he thought about it. Hence he must of necessity tremble and grow pale." . . .

--Epictetus, Discourses 2.13 (trans Long)

 Anxiety, like any form of worry or fear, can sometimes be an instinctive response, and it can sometimes be the result of a deliberate choice, but in any case, the ability and willingness to manage our own judgments is the key to facing anxiety.

 Begin simply with one of the first principles of Stoicism. If what I want is within my power, then I need never worry about gaining or losing it. If what I want is outside of my power, I will indeed worry, because I will have pursued unreliable things.

This has nothing to do, of course, with simply taking the easy route, or resting upon my laurels. To measure my life by what is within my power is hardly easy, and it is grounded in my actions, not my circumstances. I become anxious because I am surrendering myself.  Only a casting off of such dependence can lead me to a judgment with no anxiety. If I have power over what is truly good for me, I hardly need to be anxious.

The example of a musician is a wonderful one. We often perform our tasks very well in private, until we are suddenly faced with an audience. Now the only difference is in the perception of what needs to be done. Is it my responsibility to act with excellence, or to impress the spectators? If I can be confident in the former, I need hardly worry about the latter.

In my college years, I learned to distinguish between those who loved to play music for the sake of beauty itself, and those who loved to perform music to impress others. I almost always noticed that the first dedicated themselves to skill, while the second dedicated themselves to appearances. As in music, so in life, and our anxiety about what others may think will come and go depending upon which sort of persons we are.

Written in 11/1998

Image: Edvard Munch, Anxiety (1894)

On Constancy 11

. . . "'What then, ought we to publish these things to all men?' No, but we ought to accommodate ourselves to the ignorant and to say:

"'This man recommends to me that which he thinks good for himself: I excuse him.'

"For Socrates also excused the jailer, who had the charge of him in prison and was weeping when Socrates was going to drink the poison, and said, 'How generously he laments over us.'

"Does he then say to the jailer that for this reason we have sent away the women? No, but he says it to his friends who were able to hear it; and he treats the jailer as a child."

--Epictetus, Discourses 1.29 (tr Long)

 If we wish to practice constancy, and if we wish to live a truly philosophical life, we will find ourselves among many people who either do not understand us, or who even downright hate us.

Excuse them, and forgive them.

I once stared into the face of a person who had cheated on a lover. I suggested remorse and reconciliation. There was absolutely no recognition in her eyes. She had no idea that she had even done anything wrong, and she had no sense that her beloved had been hurt.

Now I could berate and scold, but that would do no good. I could only speak words of encouragement, and excuse her.

I once caught a Catholic priest sodomizing a boy in a bathroom stall. He knew I had seen what he had done, and before I made it back upstairs to my office, I was called in for a lecture from the Rector. I was told that I had seen nothing, I would say nothing, and I would apparently forget all of it.

I had seen, I did say, and I never forgot. None of that made any difference, because folks of that sort take care of their own. I could only be a poor witness, and excuse them.

To excuse others for their wrongs, or for their ignorance, is not to leave the guilty unpunished. Look at your jailer, at the man who abuses you, and do not act with hatred or vengeance. Otherwise, you are no better than he is.

Believe me, from my own experience, that man who has done wrong has already hurt himself far more than you can ever hurt him. And even if you wish to hurt him, that reflects very poorly on you, and hardly upon him.

To love your neighbor means to desire good for him, not to desire evil for him. Ask him to pay his proper debt, but never seek to destroy him. I see people on the news saying that they wish the same pain upon the criminal that was suffered by the victim. I find that shameless.

Do not worry if you are hated for being constant. You have lived by Nature. Another has lived by vice. You have been the better man. Always demand justice, but never demand vengeance.

Written in 4/1999

Image: Cesare Dandini, Personification of Constancy, c. 1634

Stoic Music 14

I needed to grow into Country music, and I most of all needed to grow into Johnny Cash. When I was a young pup, the man never spoke to me. He was speaking, of course, but I simply wasn't listening. His music seemed too simple.

Then one day, I listened to "I Walk the Line" again, it suddenly clicked, and I found myself a new hero. Johnny Cash was, I believe, a man who always knew what was right, but he always struggled to be the man he knew he had to be. That was what made him great. He was a sinner striving to be a saint. He was a Stoic in action.

"I Walk the Line" may seem a simple tune about commitment and fidelity. Listen to it carefully. It is also a song about the difficulties we all face with love and loyalty. For a period in his life, Johnny Cash fought that demon. Recall that this song was written when he was married to his first wife. He most certainly did not find it easy to be true.

I admire Johnny Cash so much because of his Stoic willingness to become a better man, and his openness to all the others who were on that same path. A different tune of his, "Man in Black", is another one my favorite anthems.

Written in 2/1999

Johnny Cash. "I Walk the Line"

Johnny Cash, "Man in Black"

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Lq0fUa0vW_E

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ouvLmeiUVSo

"I Walk the Line"

 I keep a close watch on this heart of mine
I keep my eyes wide open all the time
I keep the ends out for the tie that binds
Because you're mine, I walk the line

I find it very, very easy to be true
I find myself alone when each day is through
Yes, I'll admit that I'm a fool for you
Because you're mine, I walk the line

As sure as night is dark and day is light
I keep you on my mind both day and night
And happiness I've known proves that it's right
Because you're mine, I walk the line

You've got a way to keep me on your side
You give me cause for love that I can't hide
For you I know I'd even try to turn the tide
Because you're mine, I walk the line

I keep a close watch on this heart of mine
I keep my eyes wide open all the time
I keep the ends out for the tie that binds
Because you're mine, I walk the line

"Man in Black"

Well, you wonder why I always dress in black,
Why you never see bright colors on my back,
And why does my appearance seem to have a somber tone.
Well, there's a reason for the things that I have on.

I wear the black for the poor and the beaten down,
Livin' in the hopeless, hungry side of town,
I wear it for the prisoner who has long paid for his crime,
But is there because he's a victim of the times.

I wear the black for those who never read,
Or listened to the words that Jesus said,
About the road to happiness through love and charity,
Why, you'd think He's talking straight to you and me.

Well, we're doin' mighty fine, I do suppose,
In our streak of lightnin' cars and fancy clothes,
But just so we're reminded of the ones who are held back,
Up front there ought 'a be a Man In Black.

I wear it for the sick and lonely old,
For the reckless ones whose bad trip left them cold,
I wear the black in mournin' for the lives that could have been,
Each week we lose a hundred fine young men.

And, I wear it for the thousands who have died,
Believen' that the Lord was on their side,
I wear it for another hundred thousand who have died,
Believen' that we all were on their side.

Well, there's things that never will be right I know,
And things need changin' everywhere you go,
But 'til we start to make a move to make a few things right,
You'll never see me wear a suit of white.

Ah, I'd love to wear a rainbow every day,
And tell the world that everything's OK,
But I'll try to carry off a little darkness on my back,
'Till things are brighter, I'm the Man In Black.

Stoic Music 13

I would never have learned about Kevin Gilbert if it hadn't been for the internet, back in those dark days of usenet and mailing lists.

I met him a few years after I came to love his music. I wasn't surprised by his iconoclast personality, but I was taken aback by something he said to me. "You have the eyes of a poet. I'm sorry." His impish grin is still vivid in my memory.

A year later he was dead. Here was a man who, for all his quirks and flaws, was a true philosopher. His music reflects that, and he understood, I think, what it means to live, and to struggle to live well.

It's hard for me to pick a single song of his that reflects those values, but this one will have to do.

Written in 6/1999

Kevin Gilbert, "Goodness Gracious", from Thud (1995)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KSVetAleJLw

Goodness Gracious is there nothing left to say?
When the ones that get to keep looking
Are the ones that look away
It's pabulum for the sleepers
In the cult of brighter days

Goodness Gracious at the mercy of the crooks
We're broke and stroking vegetables
And there's way too many cooks
In every pot a pink slip, In every mouth a hook

Goodness Gracious I'm not listening anymore
Cause the spooks are in the White House
And they've justified a war
So wake me when they notify
We're gonna fight some more

Goodness Gracious not many people care
Concern is getting scarcer
True compassion really rare
I can see it on our faces. I can feel it in the air
Goodness Gracious me

Goodness Gracious my generation's lost
They burned down all our bridges
Before we had a chance to cross
Is it the winter of our discontent or just an early frost?

Goodness Gracious of apathy I sing
The baby boomers had it all and wasted everything
Now recess is almost over
And they won't get off the swing

Goodness Gracious we came in at the end
No sex that isn't dangerous, no money left to spend
We're the cleanup crew for parties
We were too young to attend
Goodness Gracious me

Goodness Gracious my grandma used to say
The world's a scary place now
Things were different in her day
What horrors will be commonplace
When my hair starts to grey?

Stoic Music 12

Of all the geniuses of the long forgotten 80's music scene, perhaps no one is more forgotten that Nik Kershaw. Some may remember him from the hit "Wouldn't It Be Good?", which is itself quite a Stoic song, being about how we all complain about how bad we have it.

My favorite of his, however, will always be "Radio Musicola", quite a scathing rant about the crass commercialization of music in particular, and of society in general. I know I have found a friend and kindred spirit when someone immediately understands his critique of the buying and selling of creativity and integrity.

The lyrics prove the man to be a poet, and the funk bass doesn't hurt. I spent hours trying to play that line in my younger years, and many more hours trying to write like that.

Written in 5/1997

Nik Kershaw, "Radio Musicola", from Radio Musicola (1986)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UcW7OE8LxHU

Black vinyl man with black plasticized imagination
More fodder for the new lost generation
I got a question to send you to the nearest closet
"Why can't you let us do it like Joni does it?"
There you go again, giving it your very best
trying so hard to make it sound like all the rest
And as your factory sanctifies your wooden soul
you gave us T.V. dinners, now it's T.V. rock 'n' roll

We're growing up
We're growing up
To radio musicola
We're growing up
We're growing up
To radio musicola

I got political inclinations to announce
but no way, if it doesn't scan with your accounts
I got some spiritual ideology for you
I know it's gotta correspond with the corporation view

We're growing up
We're growing up
To radio musicola
We're growing up
We're growing up
To radio musicola

You can find it in the streets
You can find it in the elevators
You can find it where the ladies wash their hands
It emanates from little boxes on the wall and it'll
soon be coming in disposable tin cans

My soul shows art to me, but dollars says my radio
Wall Street liquid lunches showing us the way to go
Why tolerate this numismatical polity?
There isn't any other way, there isn't any other way, more's the pity

We're growing up
We're growing up
To radio musicola
We're growing up
We're growing up
To radio musicola

On Constancy 10

. . . "To whom then does the contemplation of these matters belong? To him who has leisure, for man is an animal that loves contemplation.

"But it is shameful to contemplate these things as runaway slaves do; we should sit, as in a theater, free from distraction, and listen at one time to the tragic actor, at another time to the lute-player; and not do as slaves do.

"As soon as the slave has taken his station he praises the actor and at the same time looks round: then if any one calls out his master's name, the slave is immediately frightened and disturbed. It is shameful for philosophers thus to contemplate the works of nature.

"For what is a master? Man is not the master of man; but death is, and life and pleasure and pain; for if he comes without these things, bring Caesar to me and you will see how firm I am. But when he shall come with these things, thundering and lightning, and when I am afraid of them, what do I do then except to recognize my master like the runaway slave?

"But so long as I have any respite from these terrors, as a runaway slave stands in the theater, so do I: I bathe, I drink, I sing; but all this I do with terror and uneasiness. But if I shall release myself from my masters, that is from those things by means of which masters are formidable, what further trouble have I, what master have I still?" . . .

--Epictetus, Discourses 1.29 (tr Long)

We pride ourselves, and rightly so, as a society that has abolished the brutal institution of slavery, where one man is nothing more than the property of another. We are also right, I think, to continue fighting against such servitude beyond our shores, as well as unmasking other forms of slavery, which simply take on different names, on our own doorstep.

Remember that our author, Epictetus, was himself a slave. He understood quite well what it meant not to be free in his body, though he was a philosopher who showed us what it meant to be free in his soul.

I believe that distinction to be a crucial one, and I continue to raise eyebrows when I claim that while most of us are not slaves in our bodies, many of us are slaves in our souls.

It is entirely right and proper, according to his very nature, for man to have freedom and leisure. He should not have to look over his shoulder, afraid of the power of his master. He should never feel the need to run from anyone or from anything.

That master need not be another person, because we freely choose to become slaves to any of the things around us. We sell ourselves to money, to fame, to pleasure, to our very love of living and our fear of dying. We are in constant need of retaining the things we desire, and in constant terror of losing them.

Even if we try to run away from such a dependence, we never seem to escape its hold, and I believe this is because we are still thinking like consumers, and not like philosophers.

You and I may live in a world with the greatest political freedoms, and the greatest physical luxuries, ever known to mankind.  We also run the grave risk of being the most morally enslaved people, because we so easily surrender the freedom of ruling ourselves to false idols and to mere trinkets.

Written in 4/1999

Image: Cesare Dandini, Personification of Constancy, c. 1634

Stoic Music 11

In what I usually call my Wilderness Years, I drank far too much. I perversely deemed it right to destroy myself, because I wrongly felt that I had already been destroyed by others.

I also snorted and smoked pounds of cocaine. The stuff was an upper, and gave me but a temporary feeling of contentment. Of course, that feeling of contentment never lasted. There was always the original pain that came back, far worse than before, and that whole new pain of guilt for having sold myself.

It took me many years to manage those demons, and any addict knows that he is never cured. He is in constant recovery. Each day is a battle.

I spend much of my time now helping other recovering drug addicts to help themselves. None of it will be remembered, but I will hopefully have done right.

It seems rather silly, but a song by Howard Jones, one of my favorite musicians, helped me back in a time when I felt so alone. I would play it over and over, just to remember what really mattered.

I have learned that no person is disposable, and that every human being on the face of this Earth deserves to live, to love, and to be loved. I refuse the cynicism of those who tell me otherwise.

Written in 01/2012

Howard Jones, Little Bit of Snow", from One to One (1986)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ajjgRc8l3cQ

Please don't throw you away we need you to stay
When you die a part of us dies
Not the body but part of the soul
You have a light for us we need every glimmer
Don't destroy yourself in a little bit of snow
When there is no feeling and no pain
It only lasts a little while
When one light goes out a part of all of us cries

Please hang on for us
Please give you to us
Don't destroy yourself in a little bit of snow

Please don't throw you away we need you to stay
When you die a part of us dies
Not the body but part of the soul
Drink the sunshine warm to the rain
Keep the glimmer alive for all of us
And a million matches in the night
Will help to light the way
When one light goes out
A part of all of us cries

Please hang on for us
Please give you to us
Don't destroy yourself in a little bit of snow

Drink the sunshine, warm to the rain
Keep the glimmer alive for all of us
And a million matches in the night
Will help to light the way
When one light goes out
A part of all of us cries

On Constancy 9

. . . "Will you not leave the small arguments about these matters to others, to lazy fellows, that they may sit in a corner and receive their sorry pay, or grumble that no one gives them anything; and will you not come forward and make use of what you have learned?

"For it is not these small arguments that are wanted now: the writings of the Stoics are full of them.

"What then is the thing which is wanted? A man who shall apply them, one who by his acts shall bear testimony to his words. Assume, I, entreat you, this character, that we may no longer use in the schools the examples of the ancients but may have some example of our own." . . .

--Epictetus, Discourses 1.29 (tr Long)

Like Seneca, Epictetus has little patience for professional philosophers or academics here. I always insist, time and time again, that philosophy and the love of learning receive their poor reputation not from those who desire wisdom, but from those who see their education as a tool for their own selfish profit.

None of us need any more posturing, we need no more preening and fine tales, we need no more obsession with what Epictetus calls the "small arguments".  Of course the details matter, but when we obsess with details to pursue our own vanity, we've taken the wrong path.

I admire someone who will act, not merely pontificate. If you show me you are charged with love, with justice, with compassion and with character, I will follow you to the absolute end. But do not attempt to deceive me with all the games. I've been around the block often enough, and I can see a charlatan from a mile away.

Constancy requires action, not musings. It requires, conviction, not speculation. It requires what is actual, not what is hypothetical. I need to catch myself quite regularly, and remind myself that the trappings of vanity will be the end of me, because vanity is a dependence upon everything outside of me.

As soon as I entered graduate school, I was told that everything depended upon getting what they call a 'tenure-track' job. This meant spending many years worried about getting the right teaching evaluations, which of course meant trying to be popular with the students. Most importantly it meant getting published in all the right journals, which meant impressing our superiors.

Pardon my French, but the whole process was an exercise in kissing ass.

Now does anyone see a problem here? Epictetus certainly did, because like any proper Stoic, or even any proper philosopher, he did not think that his value depended upon the estimation of his popularity.

I am learning to be more constant, simply by no longer caring for these illusions.  I look forward to a day when I might make my work about care and service for others, and not about the care and service of myself.

Written in 4/1999

Image: Cesare Dandini, Personification of Constancy, c. 1634

On Constancy 8

. . . "But suppose that he who has the power has declared, 'I judge you to be impious and profane.' What has happened to you? 'I have been judged to be impious and profane?' Nothing else? 'Nothing else.'

"But if the same person had passed judgment on an hypothetical syllogism, and had made a declaration, 'the conclusion that, if it is day, it is light, I declare to be false,' what has happened to the hypothetical syllogism? who is judged in this case? who has been condemned? the hypothetical syllogism, or the man who has been deceived by it?

Does he, then, who has the power of making any declaration about you know what is pious or impious? Has he studied it, and has he learned it? Where? From whom?

"Then is it the fact that a musician pays no regard to him who declares that the lowest chord in the lyre is the highest; nor yet a geometrician, if he declares that the lines from the center of a circle to the circumference are not equal; and shall he who is really instructed pay any regard to the uninstructed man when he pronounces judgment on what is pious and what is impious, on what is just and unjust? Oh, the signal wrong done by the instructed. Did they learn this here?" . . .

--Epictetus, Discourses 1.29 (tr Long)

My mother, who should probably know best, has always said that I have a sensitive soul, so it comes as no surprise that I am easily moved by the judgments of others.  I remember being deeply hurt when a person I considered my closest friend described me, thinking I was out of earshot, as "someone we all know will never amount to anything." That rubbed me the wrong way for years and years.

A part of learning to practice constancy is not to let ourselves be so easily swayed by the judgments of others. This does not mean that we don't listen to others, or have no concern for their thinking, but rather that we do not allow ourselves to be determined and ruled by their thinking.

Epictetus is of great assistance here, because he reminds us that we should consider not only the judgment itself, but the wisdom and merit of the one doing the judging. I would hardly listen to someone ignorant of medicine about my health, or someone who can't balance a checkbook on my finances.

Accordingly, I should pay little mind when the irreverent man says I am impious or profane, and the reverent or respectful man, for that matter, would hardly speak in such a manner to begin with.

I am right to consider then, with no malice or resentment, that a person who considers success to the accumulation of wealth and honors can hardly be a good judge of my own success.  Look not only at what has been said, but at the merit and authority of the source.

I might pursue such thinking one step further. Is it not right for me consider a poor judgment from an ignorant and spiteful man to be more of a compliment than an insult? And in reverse, as a warning to myself, might not praise from such a man be a warning that I'm getting something awfully wrong?

I should be careful who I listen to, and why I listen to them. 

Written in 4/1999

Image: Cesare Dandini, Personification of Constancy, c. 1634