Thomas a Kempis, The Imitation of Christ 1.10

Of the danger of superfluity of words

1. Avoid as far as you can the tumult of men; for talk concerning worldly things, though it be innocently undertaken, is a hindrance, so quickly are we led captive and defiled by vanity. Many a time I wish that I had held my peace, and had not gone among men. But why do we talk and gossip so continually, seeing that we so rarely resume our silence without some hurt done to our conscience? We like talking so much because we hope by our conversations to gain some mutual comfort, and because we seek to refresh our wearied spirits by variety of thoughts. And we very willingly talk and think of those things that we love or desire, or else of those that we most dislike.

2. But alas! it is often to no purpose and in vain. For this outward consolation is no small hindrance to the inner comfort that comes from God. Therefore must we watch and pray that time pass not idly away. If it be right and desirable for you to speak, speak things that are to edification. Evil custom and neglect of our real profit tend much to make us heedless of watching over our lips. Nevertheless, devout conversation on spiritual things helps not a little to spiritual progress, most of all where those of kindred mind and spirit find their ground of fellowship in God.

Boethius, The Consolation 3.16

“How deceitful is fame often, and how base a thing it is! Justly did the tragic poet cry out, ‘O Fame, Fame, how many lives of men of nothing have you puffed up!’

“For many men have gotten a great name from the false opinions of the crowd. And what could be baser than such a thing? For those who are falsely praised, must blush to hear their praises. And if they are justly won by merits, what can they add to the pleasure of a wise man's conscience? For he measures his happiness not by popular talk, but by the truth of his conscience.

“If it attracts a man to make his name widely known, he must equally think it a shame if it not be made known. But I have already said that there must be yet more lands into which the renown of a single man can never come; wherefore it follows that the man, whom you think famous, will seem to have no such fame in the next quarter of the earth.

“Popular favor seems to me to be unworthy even of mention under this head, for it comes not by any judgment, and is never constant.

“Again, who can but see how empty a name, and how futile, is noble birth? For if its glory is due to renown, it belongs not to the man. For the glory of noble birth seems to be praise for the merits of a man's forefathers. But if praise creates the renown, it is the renowned who are praised.

“Wherefore, if you have no renown of your own, that of others cannot glorify you. But if there is any good in noble birth, I conceive it to be this, and this alone, that the highborn seem to be bound in honor not to show any degeneracy from their fathers' virtue.”

—from Book 3, Prose 6

One particular variation of the life measured by honor, a dependence upon respect, is the glory of fame. It asks not only for the respect of some, but rather of the many, seeking out reverence from far and wide. It’s one thing to be praised by another, but something so much more if one is adored and cheered by a whole crowd.

I have experienced the sense of excitement that comes from being part of a throng, but I can only imagine the feeling of power that must come from being its object of esteem. If everyone else thinks I’m that big, then surely I must be that big?

Yet notice how fame proceeds from the worship of the admirers, and may have little to do with the merit of the person who is being admired. I observe the sort of shallow qualities we are easily impressed with, or the vices that masquerade as virtues, and I wonder if there is actually all that much thinking going on when we pick and choose our heroes. It is a mentality of the herd.

If I were a good man, would it make any difference whether or not anyone praises me? I would be content with the content of my character. If I were not a good man, would I not be ashamed when anyone praises me? I can hardly be content living a lie.

I suspect the desire for more and more fame could be something like an addiction, because one would never be quite satisfied with what one has, always wanting more and more. I was at a concert once where the band, quite enamored of themselves, were met by a mob of howling fans, but cut their set short and stormed off the stage because of a small group of hecklers.

I once knew a girl who would be the attention of almost every man in the room, but would promptly be out of sorts about that single fellow who ignored her. She would then spend the rest of the night trying only to get him to adore her.

Sometimes we are convinced we don’t need to do anything at all to deserve fame, except be born into it. Now we claim that we no longer admire noble birth, but I suggest we have only created a new sort of nobility. Observe the scores of celebrities who are only famous because they are children of others who have been famous. They are now not only once, but twice removed from any true merit.

In the years when I dabbled in the world of music, I would notice those few who honed their skills simply for their own sake, for the joy of creating something beautiful. They would play with all their might, whether or not anyone was there to hear them. Then there were those who were enthralled by the thrill of being seen, heard, and followed. Finally, there were those for whom even being listened to was not enough; they would only be content if they could become the biggest stars, and second-best just wouldn’t do.

I only knew one fellow who ever really “made it”. He had his very brief moment in the sun, with a record in the charts and his face worshiped by teenage girls. The fashions quickly changed, he got hooked on heroin, and now stumbles around dreaming of his glory days, yearning for that comeback.

The whole problem with fame, however, is that you can’t get it back at all, because it was never really yours to begin with.

Written in 9/2015

Tao Te Ching 23

Abstaining from speech marks him who is obeying the spontaneity of his nature. A violent wind does not last for a whole morning, a sudden rain does not last for the whole day. 

To whom is it that these two things are owing? To Heaven and Earth. If Heaven and Earth cannot make such spasmodic actings last long, how much less can man!

Therefore when one is making the Tao his business, those who are also pursuing it, agree with him in it, and those who are making the manifestation of its course their object agree with him in that; while even those who are failing in both these things agree with him where they fail.

Hence, those with whom he agrees as to the Tao have the happiness of attaining to it; those with whom he agrees as to its manifestation have the happiness of attaining to it; and those with whom he agrees in their failure have also the happiness of attaining to the Tao. 

But when there is not faith sufficient on his part, a want of faith in him ensues on the part of the others.

Sonnet 116

Let me not to the marriage of true minds

Admit impediments. Love is not love

Which alters when it alteration finds,

Or bends with the remover to remove.

O no! it is an ever-fixed mark

That looks on tempests and is never shaken;

It is the star to every wandering bark,

Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.

Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks

Within his bending sickle's compass come;

Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,

But bears it out even to the edge of doom.

If this be error and upon me proved,

I never writ, nor no man ever loved.

Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 9.4

He who does wrong does wrong against himself.

He who acts unjustly acts unjustly to himself, because he makes himself bad.

—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, Book 9.4 (tr Long)

When I was a child, one of the kindly teachers tried to tell me that bullies only treated others poorly out of anger and jealously. When I was a young man, a friend tried to explain that the girl who had lied and cheated was the one who lost the most. Through the years that followed, I would see the hypocrisy, the greed, and the vanity, and I would try to remind myself what my uncle had always said: “They already have their reward.”

And quite often, I couldn’t believe these things, and I suspect there were two reasons for this. First, those people may have been living poorly, but they seemed to come across as so strong and confident. Second, my own losses seemed so great, and I could hardly imagine that the offenders could be in a worse state. It took a more serious commitment to Stoic living to see where my errors lay.

First, what a man wants to show to others may itself be a game of deception. I knew this because I would catch myself doing it all the time, trying to look brilliant on the outside, while feeling like I was rotting on the inside. It is quite easy to both lie to others and to oneself.

Second, my own losses only seemed so great because I was seeking the wrong source of contentment. If I thought that gratification, and money, and popularity were the best things, of course I would bemoan their absence. I didn’t see that those who were taking these things from me were throwing away something far more valuable.

If someone pushed me around, or stole my possessions, or laughed at me, I would be losing something in the circumstances around me. But the fellow who did the pushing, or the stealing, or the laughing was losing something of the character within him. Who was really in the worse state, the one who was denied what was external to him, or the one who rejected the very dignity that was internal to him?

I may have a preference to feel comfort, or be wealthy, or be respected, but whether you give me those things or not, I can still choose to live with virtue. Yet someone who thinks and acts out of vice has already damaged his very happiness, because he does not follow his nature as human, a creature made to know the truth and love the good.

People who are abusers may not quite understand how they have gone wrong, but the absence of living well means that they are still consumed by misery. Notice how they reach out, this way and that, to try to fill the emptiness. I should meet them with compassion, not with hatred.

Written in 7/2008

Ecclesiastes 3:1-8

[1] For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven:
[2] a time to be born, and a time to die;
a time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted;
[3] a time to kill, and a time to heal;
a time to break down, and a time to build up;
[4] a time to weep, and a time to laugh;
a time to mourn, and a time to dance;
[5] a time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together;
a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;
[6] a time to seek, and a time to lose;
a time to keep, and a time to cast away;
[7] a time to rend, and a time to sew;
a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;
[8] a time to love, and a time to hate;
a time for war, and a time for peace.

Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 9.3

Do not despise death, but be well content with it, since this too is one of those things that Nature wills. For such as it is to be young and to grow old, and to increase and to reach maturity, and to have teeth and beard and gray hairs, and to beget and to be pregnant and to bring forth, and all the other natural operations that the seasons of your life bring, such also is dissolution.

This, then, is consistent with the character of a reflecting man—to be neither careless nor impatient nor contemptuous with respect to death, but to wait for it as one of the operations of Nature. As you now wait for the time when the child shall come out of your wife's womb, so be ready for the time when your soul shall fall out of this envelope.

But if you require also a vulgar kind of comfort which shall reach your heart, you will be made best reconciled to death by observing the objects from which you are going to be removed, and the morals of those with whom your soul will no longer be mingled.

For it is no way right to be offended with men, but it is your duty to care for them and to bear with them gently; and yet to remember that your departure will not be from men who have the same principles as yourself.

For this is the only thing, if there be any, that could draw us the contrary way and attach us to life—to be permitted to live with those who have the same principles as ourselves. But now you see how great is the trouble arising from the discordance of those who live together, so that you may say, “Come quick, O death, lest perchance I, too, should forget myself.”

—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, Book 9.3 (tr Long)

Stoicism reminds me to always carefully examine my own thinking, to be aware of the habits that influence how I act, to reflect upon the meaning of what I am feeling. If I am to understand that my happiness will proceed not merely from my circumstances, but from my estimation of circumstances, such introspection is absolutely essential.

The way of the world encourages me to constantly direct my attention outward, at what I can win and acquire out there, but Stoicism is hardly a philosophy that follows the way of the world. The success I am told I must achieve is not the contentment I need.

And when I look inward, I will sometimes come across powerful assumptions I may not even have been entirely aware of, misleading beliefs that hold far more power over me than I am willing to admit.

An illusion I have carried with me for some time, and that I must regularly put in its place, is a desire to go back to a past stage of my life, to do it over again, or to jump ahead to a later stage in life, to move along to a better place. When I was younger, I sometimes wanted to be older, and now that I am older, I sometimes want to be younger. All of it arises from a sense that something was wasted, or that something remains to be done.

This will fill me with feelings of doubt, of regret, of anxiety, of resentment. The way I can overcome this is to remember that where I am right now, in whatever situation I find myself, is exactly where I am supposed to be right now. I must live each stage of my life, however long or short it may be, for its own sake, joyfully accepting that it is beautiful and fitting. To regret the past, or worry for the future, is to foolishly neglect what should be done at this very moment.

Each season of the year, and each age of man, has its rightful place, no one better or worse than the other. This is especially true of facing death, that monstrous beast of all anxieties, that final point where there can be no more clutching at the desperate chance to do it over. It doesn’t need to be done over at all, because everything that passes transforms into something new.

I don’t just need to bear this begrudgingly, but I can embrace it wholeheartedly.

If I still have my doubts, and I need a more base motivation to accept where I am, I can also see how all the things I want to hold on to are not really as pleasant as I may think they are.

I am here to love my neighbor, to help him carry his burden, and to let him know that he is not alone. But quite often my neighbor will not be thinking along the same lines. He will mock me, abuse me, or reject me. Let me do right by him, while also realizing that he will often not do right by me. That is hardly something I should be afraid of leaving behind, now is it?

Each season of the year has its own purpose, and should be appreciated for its own sake, though that does not mean I won’t be happy to leave behind the biting cold of winter, or the scorching heat of summer.

Written in 7/2008

IMAGE: Araki Jippo, Birds and Flowers of the Four Seasons (1917)

The Art of Peace 12

Those who practice the Art of Peace must protect the domain of Mother Nature, the divine reflection of creation, and keep it lovely and fresh. Warriorship gives birth to natural beauty.

The subtle techniques of a warrior arise as naturally as the appearance of spring, summer, autumn, and winter.
 

Warriorship is none other than the vitality that sustains all life.

Enough

Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 9.2

It would be a man's happiest lot to depart from mankind without having had any taste of lying and hypocrisy and luxury and pride. However, to breathe out one's life when a man has had enough of these things is the next best voyage, as the saying is.

Have you determined to abide with vice, and has not experience yet induced you to fly from this pestilence? For the destruction of the understanding is a pestilence, much more, indeed, than any such corruption and change of this atmosphere that surrounds us.

For this corruption is a pestilence of animals so far as they are animals; but the other is a pestilence of men so far as they are men.

—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, Book 9.2 (tr Long)

Some philosophies may see the good to the exclusion of the bad, or the bad to the exclusion of the good, yet I have always been amazed at how Stoicism will manage to balance an awareness of both.

Even as all things that exist are good by their natures, it remains within the power of our judgments to abuse what is good within us. I may know that all is made to unfold as it rightly should, though this can hardly make me look away from the depths of human depravity.

If you had told me as a child the sorts of profoundly evil things I would experience in my coming years, I would not have believed you. But sure enough, both in my own immediate life and in the wider world around me, I have seen too many things that have made me want to give up hope.

Malice runs deep. Greed is thick in the air. Lies are heaped upon lies. And at times it will all feel like enough is enough.

This should hardly surprise me, because if Providence chooses to include creatures of reason and choice within its plan, there will always be both the ups and downs of human freedom. For every wise decision there will be an ignorant decision, for every act of love there will an act of hate.

The ignorance and the hatred will not destroy the good in this life, because they will always give me the chance to transform them into what is good, but they remain a burden to be borne nonetheless.

It might have been a much more pleasant life if I never had to face the corruption of vice at all. Still, I suspect that even what little virtue I have managed to build within me would never have come to pass, if I had not first been challenged with these obstacles, both from others and within myself. Confronting malice has helped me to love. Confronting greed has helped me to give. Confronting lies has helped to be true.

It may not have been the smoothest journey, but if I have done all that I can do to live with Nature, I can be content that it has not been in vain. I will have fulfilled my part, however small, and I can move on knowing that I have made it through the storm. I will now rightly be grateful for being relieved from my watch.

The pollution in the air may clog our lungs and sicken our bodies, while the pollution in our minds will smother our virtue and stifle our souls. To face that deeper corruption is a responsibility of life, and to be freed from it is a blessing of life.

Written in 7/2008

Dhammapada 37

Those who bridle their mind that travels far, moves about alone, is without a body, and hides in the chamber of the heart, will be free from the bonds of Mara, the tempter.

Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 9.1.4

. . . Now with respect to the things towards which the Universal Nature is equally affected—for it would not have made both, unless it was equally affected towards both—towards those who wish to follow Nature should be of the same mind with it, and equally affected.

With respect to pain, then, and pleasure, or death and life, or honor and dishonor, which the Universal Nature employs equally, whoever is not equally affected is manifestly acting impiously.

And I say that the Universal Nature employs them equally, instead of only saying that they happen alike to those who are produced in continuous series, and to those who come after them by virtue of a certain original movement of Providence, according to which it moved from a certain beginning to this ordering of things, having conceived certain principles of the things which were to be, and having determined powers productive of beings and of changes and of such like successions.

—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, Book 9.1 (tr Long)

Whatever may happen, and whatever may come my way, I should always be equally affected by all of it. This is the classic Stoic principle of indifference. It does not mean that these things don’t matter, or that they have no meaning and purpose, or that I should ignore them, but rather that their value will be revealed only by what I choose to do with them.

If it exists within Nature, it exists for a reason. All of it, each and every bit, has its place. The world will throw things at me that seem pleasant or unpleasant. It may kill me or let me live. It may raise me up or cast me down.

Still, whatever occurs is meant to be as it is. This is why I must view gratification as no better than suffering, death as no better than life, honor as no better than dishonor. They are given to me equally, and I am asked to receive them equally, understanding that they all equally provide me an opportunity to live well.

We are so used to thinking that “good” and “bad” things happen to us, that we can hardly think outside of this context. Why has Nature done me wrong? She hasn’t. I have done myself wrong. Embrace the Stoic Turn.

If she gives me wealth or poverty, health or sickness, fame or obscurity, she is always reminding me that she has already given me the only thing I ever require to be happy, a mastery over myself. Everything else for me will proceed from my use of that mastery.

This is why the man who frets, who complains, or who demands more for himself is also impious. He rejects the strength of his own nature, and he rejects the order of Providence. He thinks of himself only by what he gets, not by what he gives. He believes that, as part of the whole, the whole should only serve him. The whole will indeed always offer benefit to him, but it will not always gratify him.

I have often wanted to hate God, to curse Him, to deny Him, because He does not give me what I want. No matter. He gives me what I need, and He gives me the freedom to make myself be as good as I decide to be.

It isn’t just that Providence makes or allows this or that to happen, but rather that Providence orders all that happens to be of use as an occasion for growth and improvement.

Effects proceed from causes, and all action toward an end requires Intelligence to direct that action. It was that way from the beginning, and it permeates the succession of everything that follows.

Piety is not a blind acceptance of uncaring fate. Piety is a profound respect for how my own choices and actions should exist within the design of all of Nature. Piety is the awe, wonder, and gratitude for being given the chance to share and cooperate with Universal Nature.

Written in 7/2008

Epictetus, Golden Sayings 80

Fellow, you have come to blows at home with a slave; you have turned the household upside down, and thrown the neighborhood into confusion; and do you come to me then with airs of assumed modesty—do you sit down like a sage and criticize my explanation of the readings, and whatever idle babble you say has come into my head? 

Have you come full of envy, and dejected because nothing is sent to you from home? And while the discussion is going on, do you sit brooding on nothing but how your father or your brother are disposed towards you?

"What are they saying about me there? At this moment they imagine I am making progress and saying, 'He will return perfectly omniscient!' I wish I could become omniscient before I return, but that would be very troublesome. No one sends me anything—the baths at Nicopolis are dirty; things are wretched at home and wretched here." 

And then they say, "Nobody is any the better for the School!" 

Who comes to the School with a sincere wish to learn, to submit his principles to correction and himself to treatment? Who, to gain a sense of his wants? Why then be surprised if you carry home from the School exactly what you bring into it?

Heartbeat

What Would the Stoic Do?

In our Internet Age, it is easy to ask any and every question right then and there, and to receive dozens of responses right then and there.

Like the kindly but curmudgeonly old fellow who insists he walked to school uphill both ways, barefoot, and in the snow, I am often tempted to remind younger folks that we used to have to go out of our way for answers, and that we actually had to figure things out for ourselves.

But that is not the solution. Neither old folks nor young folks are any better. The internet is a medium, and it is not the source of the problem. The medium will only be as good as the message.

And the message for me has been, over and over again, that I should never seek the quick fix, or the cookie cutter explanation. Let me use whatever means are available to me, but let me also learn to think for myself, choose for myself, and act for myself.

Instead of facing all of the circumstances one by one, I can reflect upon a principle to guide me. When confronted with a particular, I will then have a universal to show the way. Life isn't about color-by-numbers. It is about creating your own masterpiece.

That is what makes wisdom different from merely having information. The former has meaning, while the latter is just a laundry list.

Most of the social media buzz on Stoicism involves clever memes, the selling of products, or the grind of lazy questions such as these:

"What would a Stoic do in situation x?"

"Is it okay for a Stoic to get involved in y?"

"If a Stoic is stranded on a desert island, can he choose z?"

I have gathered the following from social media over the last few years. I'm not putting the questions down at all, but I am rather wondering if we're all starting at the wrong end:

"Can a Stoic still be a Republican?"

"Should a Stoic change his own oil, or take the car to a mechanic?"

"Is it okay for Stoics to marry, or to have children?"

"My mother puts me down, and I wonder if Stoicism says I should forgive her?"

"Am I still being a Stoic if I do yoga?"

"I was raised a Christian, but I also want to practice Stoicism. Is that acceptable?"

"How much money should I have if I want to be a Stoic?"

"Can I enjoy sex if I'm trying to be a Stoic?"

"Does Stoicism allow having hobbies?"

"Do I need to build my own house if I am a Stoic? Can I eat processed food?"

"Is it true that a Stoic has to be a vegan?"

"Should Stoic parents immunize their children?"

and so on. . . 

I'm still waiting for this one:

"If a Stoic farts in the woods, and no one is there to hear or smell him, is he still a Stoic?"

By all means, let us ask the questions, but let us also look to the rule first, before worrying about the application.

My response to each and every one of such questions is always the same, time after time:

Whatever may happen, and whatever you may do, is it helping you to live with wisdom and virtue? If the answer is yes, then follow through. If the answer is no, then stop right there. Everything else is secondary, or indifferent. Your preferences should be subject to your character.

"But what is wisdom, and what is virtue?"

Thank you! Now you're asking the sort of questions that need to be asked! You have started thinking, instead of only mimicking. Proceed!

Marcus Aurelius. Meditations 9.1.3

. . . And indeed he who pursues pleasure as good, and avoids pain as evil, is guilty of impiety.

For of necessity such a man must often find fault with the Universal Nature, alleging that it assigns things to the bad and the good contrary to their deserts, because frequently the bad are in the enjoyment of pleasure and possess the things that procure pleasure, but the good have pain for their share and the things that cause pain.

And further, he who is afraid of pain will sometimes also be afraid of some of the things that will happen in the world, and even this is impiety. And he who pursues pleasure will not abstain from injustice, and this is plainly impiety. . . .

—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, Book 9.1 (tr Long)

To seek pleasure, and to avoid pain, is sadly the default path that many of will choose to take in this life. It appeals to what is most immediate, instinctive and base within us. It is the lowest common denominator, the easy way out, and it allows us to act without having to judge about why we should act.

The primacy of pleasure results in a person who is, as Plato described in the Republic, turned upside down, where reason is in the service of the passions, not the passions in the service of reason. Thinking requires commitment and responsibility, while gratification asks only to be pampered.

If we only chose to look a little deeper, we would see why we have all our wires crossed. Man is indeed a creature of pleasure and pain, like an animal, but he is also a creature of intellect and will, and it is the intellect that should guide our way, because only it is able to distinguish between true and false, right and wrong. The passions give us feelings, but reason permits us to understand these feelings, what they mean, and how we should make use of them.

It’s funny that even when we say pleasure is the highest good, we still somehow think it unfair when bad people receive pleasure, and good people receive pain. We are quite aware that there should be a higher standard for human life, resting in the merit of what we do, not simply in the satisfaction of what we feel.

And so the seeker of pleasure is not only a selfish man, but also an unjust man, and therefore an impious man, because he acts contrary to Nature. He does not respect the moral worth in others, replacing this with his own desires, and so he rejects the very order of all things.

If he is only fleeing from pain, he will avoid many things he ought to do, and he will consider events by their convenience, not by their greater purpose. If he is only following pleasure, he will do many things he shouldn’t do, and he will treat others unjustly, as a means for his own enjoyment.

The seeker of pleasure casts aside all the good in the world for only the good of his own desires. In trying to make his passions supreme, he is an affront to others, and an affront to the Divine.

This sounds like a horrible way to live, and indeed it is. Now I ask myself how often I have lived in precisely this brutish sort of manner, and so I remind myself about the urgency of choosing to be a better man. The illusion of fancy trappings or refined appearances cannot disguise a twisted and selfish soul.

Written in 7/2008

IMAGE: Hieronymus Bosch, Allegory of Intemperance (c.1490)

Thomas a Kempis, The Imitation of Christ 1.9

Of obedience and subjection

1. It is verily a great thing to live in obedience, to be under authority, and not to be at our own disposal. Far safer is it to live in subjection than in a place of authority. Many are in obedience from necessity rather than from love; these take it amiss, and repine for small cause. Nor will they gain freedom of spirit, unless with all their heart they submit themselves for the love of God. Though you run here and there, you wilt not find peace, save in humble subjection to the authority of him who is set over you. Fancies about places and change of them have deceived many.

2. True it is that every man willingly follows his own bent, and is the more inclined to those who agree with him. But if Christ is among us, then it is necessary that we sometimes yield up our own opinion for the sake of peace. Who is so wise as to have perfect knowledge of all things? Therefore trust not too much to your own opinion, but be ready also to hear the opinions of others. Though your own opinion be good, yet if for the love of God you forego it, and follow that of another, you shall the more profit thereby.

3. Oftentimes I have heard that it is safer to hearken and to receive counsel than to give it. It may also come to pass that each opinion may be good; but to refuse to hearken to others when reason or occasion requires it, is a mark of pride or wilfulness.

A Friendly Reminder!

Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 9.1.2

. . . And he too who lies is guilty of impiety to the same Divinity. For the Universal Nature is the Nature of things that are, and things that are have a relation to all things that come into existence.

And further, this Universal Nature is named Truth, and is the prime cause of all things that are true.

He then who lies intentionally is guilty of impiety, inasmuch as he acts unjustly by deceiving.

And he also who lies unintentionally, inasmuch as he is at variance with the Universal Nature, and inasmuch as he disturbs the order by fighting against the Nature of the world.

For he fights against it, who is moved of himself to that which is contrary to truth, for he had received powers from Nature, through the neglect of which he is not able now to distinguish falsehood from truth. . . .

—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, Book 9.1 (tr Long)

Just as we may say we seek justice, we may say we also seek truth. But if we are to broaden and loosen the definition of truth further and further, we may end up saying that anything and everything is true. If we remove the order of Nature itself, truth will only be whatever our own preference may be.

I recall how, in the early 2000’s, I began noticing the term “integrity” more often in the professional world, including academia, complete with corporate names, brands, and advertising slogans. The point was, of course, about selling a product, and so it was the appearance of truthfulness that mattered, not the reality. Something was honest as long as it looked good, dishonest only when it looked bad.

Truthfulness is not just putting on a show; it goes to the very heart of who we are as rational creatures, and how we are related to the good of the whole world. To say that something is true is more than a mere assertion, but the correspondence of the mind to what is real, a conformity of our thoughts to the world we think about. It is judging things as they are in themselves, and an opening of awareness to being. The truth is in what is, not only in what I would wish.

It is the purpose of the mind to understand things as they are, and so when the mind judges things as they are not, it deceives itself, and goes contrary to its own nature.

It is further the purpose of speech to communicate truth to others, and so when speech expresses things as they are not, it deceives others, and goes contrary both to its own nature and the nature of others.

True and false are far deeper than convenience and inconvenience. Truth is a respect for the order of Nature, and falsehood a disrespect for the order of Nature. The dishonest man is therefore also an unjust and impious man, because he does not respect himself, or his neighbor, or the world around him, or the very Divine source of that world, from which all other things proceed. By affirming something that is not, he denies the way of everything that is.

I can make all sorts of excuses to justify a lie, but I know that whenever I have been dishonest, it has always been a way to avoid being responsible for myself, to deny the reality for the sake of convenience. I will prefer to appear right than to be right, to feel good instead of doing good. That is a betrayal of my humanity, and a betrayal of the Creator who made me human. Whether it is intentional or unintentional, I have strayed from the path.

If it is true, it is in harmony with Nature, and I should say yes. If it is false, it is in conflict with Nature, and I should say no. It need be no more difficult than that. 

Written in 7/2008 

IMAGE: The Goddess of Truth, Saint Petersburg Summer Garden

Tao Te Ching 22

The partial becomes complete; the crooked, straight; the empty, full; the worn out, new. He whose desires are few gets them; he whose desires are many goes astray.

Therefore the sage holds in his embrace the one thing of humility, and manifests it to all the world. He is free from self-display, and therefore he shines; from self-assertion, and therefore he is distinguished; from self-boasting, and therefore his merit is acknowledged; from self-complacency, and therefore he acquires superiority. It is because he is thus free from striving that therefore no one in the world is able to strive with him.

That saying of the ancients that 'the partial becomes complete' was not vainly spoken:- all real completion is comprehended under it.