Sayings of Socrates 4

Wonder is the feeling of a philosopher, and philosophy begins in wonder. 

—Plato, Theaetetus, 155d

Boethius, The Consolation 3.23

“So far,” she continued, “we have been content to set forth the form of false happiness. If you clearly understand that, my next duty is to show what is true happiness.”

“I do see,” said I, “that wealth cannot satisfy, that power comes not to kingdoms, nor veneration to high offices; that true renown cannot accompany ambition, nor true enjoyment wait upon the pleasures of the body.”

“Have you grasped the reasons why it is so?” she asked.

“I seem to look at them as through a narrow chink, but I would learn more clearly from you.”

“The reason is to hand,” said she; “human error takes that which is simple and by nature impossible to divide, tries to divide it, and turns its truth and perfection into falsity and imperfection. Tell me, do you think that anything which lacks nothing, can be without power?”

“Of course not.”

“You are right; for if anything has any weakness in any part, it must lack the help of something else.”

“That is so,” I said.

“Then perfect satisfaction and power have the same nature?”

“Yes, it seems so.”

“And do you think such a thing contemptible, or the opposite, worthy of all veneration?”

'There can be no doubt that it is worthy.”

“Then let us add veneration to that satisfaction and power, and so consider these three as one.”

“Yes, we must add it if we wish to proclaim the truth.”

“Do you then think that this whole is dull and of no reputation, or renowned with all glory? For consider it thus: we have granted that it lacks nothing, that it has all power and is worthy of all veneration; it must not therefore lack the glory which it cannot supply for itself, and thereby seem to be in any direction contemptible.”

“No,” I said, “I must allow that it has glory too.”

“Therefore we must rank this glory equally with the other three.”

“Yes, we must.”

“Then that which lacks nothing from outside itself, which is all-powerful by its own might, which has renown and veneration, must surely be allowed to be most happy too?”

“I cannot imagine from what quarter unhappiness would creep into such a thing, wherefore we must grant that it is full of happiness if the other qualities remain existent.”

“Then it follows further, that though perfect satisfaction, power, glory, veneration, and happiness differ in name, they cannot differ at all in essence?”

“They cannot.” . . .

—from Book 3, Prose 9

I find my mind returning, time and time again, to how readily we will all run around in this life without any precise understanding of what that very life is made for. Being clueless, we are therefore aimless. We acquire all sorts of knowledge and skill about this or that profession, while overlooking insight into that highest vocation, that of simply being human.

I do it as much as the next man, and I can hardly say that this is simply because I have been given a bad example. No, I can only blame my own laziness in taking what appears to be the easiest route, looking for clever shortcuts to happiness, and pursuing what most tugs at my desire for immediate gratification.

The irony is that I think I am making it simpler for myself, when in fact I am making it far more complex than it has to be. Instead of seeking that one end, that which is most worthy and contains all others goods within it, I fracture the good into many tiny little bits.

I should be seeking that priceless jewel, but I am filling my pockets with assorted trinkets. I should be hunting the biggest game, but I’m scrambling up trees after squirrels.

If I go about asking all the people I meet what they think they might need to be happy, I will be thought of as an annoying gadfly, a no-good troublemaker much like that Socrates, a loose cannon. Yet that really is the most important question, isn’t it? Perhaps we become angry when we are asked to answer it because it reveals to us that we really don’t know.

I suppose I have made a feeble attempt at doing precisely this, not just in my years of teaching but also in all aspects of my life, and I can honestly say that I am quite surprised when I have a serious conversation with someone, and they then offer a clear and concise account of why life is worth living. It has happened so rarely that I can remember each and every instance.

The point is not whether they say something that I happen to find agreeable, but that they are willing to reflect upon the question at all. Some dismissive people tell me that other folks are just “stupid”, but I know that isn’t the case; so many are far brighter than I can ever be. I suspect we just aren’t used to pushing ourselves in such a direction, like never using a certain muscle, because we didn’t even know we had it.  

If I push the point, what will I hear about the good life? I affectionately call it the “laundry list”, a series of individual things that often seem to have no connection with one another.

“Well. I’d need enough money to be happy. And be sure that I’ll always have enough money for the future. I want to have lots of fun. I want to have lots of friends. I’d have to be in good health, of course, and stay fit, but not so much that it makes me cranky. It would be great if I had a wonderful job, where I was respected and treated well, knowing I could get a good promotion if I worked hard enough, and that would help with the money thing, and for having more fun. That sounds like a pretty good life!”

Bit after a pause, the list will often continue to grow. “Wait, I need some vacation time, obviously, and it won’t be any good without a smoking-hot wife. It would be nice if she could cook a good meal, too. I would feel better if I was someone important, someone other people looked up to. Kids sound great too, but I would want them to go to the best schools, and I guess it would mean having some extra money for that. . .”

You aren’t alone if you recognize this as an expression of everything Lady Philosophy has warned Boethius about: the scattered pieces, the imperfect reflections of what is perfect, and the replacement of one complete source with many incomplete substitutes.

During a rather dark time in my life, spending yet another holiday alone, a drinking buddy jokingly asked me what I wanted for Christmas. “World peace,” I said sarcastically.

“Would inner peace do the trick?” he asked. Despite how confused we were, there was a fellow that got it, however cynically he was trying to come across.

Why should I look to so many small things, all of which put together amount to so very little, when I should be looking for the one thing that can give all of it meaning and purpose?

If it is truly good, happiness will lack in nothing, without exception, and so it will be the fullness of power.

If it is truly good, happiness will be worthy of respect, without exception, and so it will be the fullness of what is desirable.

If it is truly good, happiness will be most glorious, without exception, and will admit of nothing flawed whatsoever.

And here we are not describing a number of different things, but only aspects of one and the same thing; we are not listing many needs, but pointing to a single need, joined together in essence. Happiness, by its very definition as that which can never be added to, will therefore itself be simple and indivisible.

Written in 9/2015

Ecclesiastes 5:11-15

[11] When goods increase, they increase who eat them; and what gain has their owner but to see them with his eyes?
[12] Sweet is the sleep of a laborer, whether he eats little or much; but the surfeit of the rich will not let him sleep.
[13] There is a grievous evil which I have seen under the sun: riches were kept by their owner to his hurt,
[14] and those riches were lost in a bad venture; and he is father of a son, but he has nothing in his hand.
[15] As he came from his mother's womb he shall go again, naked as he came, and shall take nothing for his toil, which he may carry away in his hand.

Nobility

Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 9.40

Either the gods have no power or they have power. If, then, they have no power, why do you pray to them? But if they have power, why do you not pray for them to give you the faculty of not fearing any of the things that you fear, or of not desiring any of the things that you desire, or not being pained at anything, rather than pray that any of these things should not happen or happen?

 For certainly if they can cooperate with men, they can cooperate for these purposes. But perhaps you will say the gods have placed them in your power. Well, then, is it not better to use what is in your power like a free man than to desire in a slavish and abject way what is not in your power?

 And who has told you that the gods do not aid us, even in the things that are in our power? Begin, then, to pray for such things, and you will see.

One man prays thus: How shall I be able to lie with that woman? You should pray thus: How shall I not desire to lie with her?

Another prays thus: How shall I be released from this? Pray you: How shall I not desire to be released?

Another thus: How shall I not lose my little son? You thus: How shall I not be afraid to lose him?

In the end, turn your prayers this way, and see what comes.

—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, Book 9.40 (tr Long)

I am sometimes quite wary of prayer, the most immediate reason being my own sense of pride. I confuse self-reliance with separation and isolation, failing to understand that ruling myself should always proceed in harmony and cooperation with everything and everyone around me, and especially with what is greater than me. Instead of making me weaker, having the courage to ask for assistance in improving myself can actually be a sign of great courage.

I also allow myself to be discouraged when I see the way many people use prayer, as a means for building their own influence over others. A decent man may tell me that he will pray for me, and I will feel grateful that he desires what is good for me, but a crooked man may tell me that he will pray for me, and I have only the distinct sense that he is looking down at me, showing me how much better he thinks he is.

A bit of clear judgment should, however, help me to discern the difference between a rightful use and a corrupted abuse. Notice, for example, how people will go about offering up prayers. Some ask for an increase in their circumstances, to be given greater power over the world around them. Others, however, will ask instead for the strength to bolster their virtues, to learn a greater power over themselves.

That difference tells us so much about what folks really care about, and how they see their own good in relationship to the good of the whole.

I try not to think of prayer as some magic formula, or as a fancy business transaction, but rather as a means for me to communicate more fully with the Divine, and thereby to understand my place more completely. Prayer can involve speaking, but it requires even more of listening. Prayer can involve asking, but it requires even more of embracing acceptance. It is less about fitting the world to my desires, but about fitting my desires to the world.

If the Divine, however we may understand it or express it, is truly the source, center, and measure of all things, building our relationship with the Divine is hardly a wasted effort. For me, it becomes most critical to consider how that bond should be strengthened. Will it make me better and happier if the external conditions of my life are more convenient, or will it make me better and happier if I can face any and all external conditions with more character? The Stoic, and I also think most any man who seeks holiness, knows the answer right away.

It is better to ask for help in conquering my own fear, than to ask that the things I fear be swept away.

It is better to ask for help in mastering my own passions, than to ask that any temptations disappear.

It is better to ask for help in transforming my own suffering, than to ask for suffering to be removed.

While the former will always allow me more of a chance to be a brave and good man, the latter will only encourage me to be a weak and slavish man. If I want God’s help in being happy, it is best to ask Him to help me to reform myself, not to become lazy or entitled.

I used to resent it when my family told me that “God helps those who help themselves.” I am far more grateful for the advice now.

If I am convinced I already have the power within me to go the distance, then let me pray by being grateful for having received it. If I recognize that I require more conviction and courage, then let me pray that it be increased, knowing that the seed within me must only be cultivated.

If all is One, joined together and ruled by Providence, prayers are not in vain; my own reason and will are simply seeking to fulfill themselves, strengthening the power of their nature through the power of all of Nature.

It only began to make a difference for me, in quite a concrete way, when my practice of prayer was not about changing God or about changing the world, but about changing myself.

Written in 12/2008

IMAGE: Nicolaes Maes, Old Woman at Prayer (c. 1656)

The Art of Peace 20

Always keep your mind as bright and clear as the vast sky, the great ocean, and the highest peak, empty of all thoughts. 

Always keep your body filled with light and heat. Fill yourself with the power of wisdom and enlightenment. 

Rush, "Freewill"

As a reference for Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 9.39:

This classic song can provide a wonderful jumping-off point for a good discussion about freedom and fate, the place of the part within the whole, and how it could ever be possible for a man to be himself in a world ruled by God.

Back when young people still knew who Rush were, I would often give this as a paper assignment, and let them run with their own thoughts on the matter. Peart's lyrics here were inspired by Ayn Rand, but the topic admits of all sorts of themes and variations.

It leads us to that question: "Which will it be? Providence or free will?" It can take some time to appreciate one possible answer, quite a Stoic one, which is simply "Yes."

Rush, "Freewill", from Permanent Waves (1980)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V7bbdIU95zM

There are those who think that life is nothing left to chance,
A host of holy horrors to direct our aimless dance.

A planet of playthings,
We dance on the strings
Of powers we cannot perceive.
"The stars aren't aligned
Or the gods are malign"-
Blame is better to give than receive.

You can choose a ready guide in some celestial voice.
If you choose not to decide, you still have made a choice.
You can choose from phantom fears and kindness that can kill;
I will choose a path that's clear-
I will choose Free Will.

There are those who think that they were dealt a losing hand,
The cards were stacked against them- they weren't born in lotus-land.

All preordained-
A prisoner in chains-
A victim of venomous fate.
Kicked in the face,
You can't pray for a place
In heaven's unearthly estate.

You can choose a ready guide in some celestial voice.
If you choose not to decide, you still have made a choice.
You can choose from phantom fears and kindness that can kill;
I will choose a path that's clear-
I will choose Free Will.

Each of us-
A cell of awareness-
Imperfect and incomplete.
Genetic blends
With uncertain ends
On a fortune hunt that's far too fleet. 

Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 9.39

Either all things proceed from one Intelligent Source and come together as in one body, and the part ought not to find fault with what is done for the benefit of the whole; or there are only atoms, and nothing else than mixture and dispersion.

Why, then, are you disturbed? Say to the ruling faculty, are you dead, are you corrupted, are you playing the hypocrite, have you become a beast, do you herd and feed with the rest?

—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, Book 9.39 (tr Long)

Most all of the Classical Stoics, in varying ways and to varying degrees, argued that the Universe was completely One, was ruled by Providence, and had at its heart the design of Perfect Mind.

Call it God, or Zeus, or Logos, or the Highest Pneuma, the Breath and Fire of Life. It is still the absolute force that gives meaning and purpose to all things.

They did not consider God as any distant and impersonal power, or as some bureaucratic administrator. They rather saw all creatures as aspects of the One, expressions of a Divine Awareness that was itself perfect being, as small parts that had no meaning at all outside of that greater whole. Our own minds are nothing but an extension of Mind.

If the Stoics were correct in this view, then there can never be any doubt about our own particular place in this life. Whatever has happened, has happened for a reason, intended by the Divine. It is not God who fails us, as there is no absence in whatever is complete.

No, we are the ones who sadly fail to embrace the freedom of our nature within all of Nature. We fail ourselves through the power that is shared with us.

Even when we abuse our own choices, however, these are already pieces of how all of existence will unfold. Nothing is in vain, and everything is in service, directly or indirectly, to the fullness of all that is. It is about Being, not just about beings.

But let us imagine that there is no God, and no Unity, and there is no greater plan, and it all boils down to the random behavior of matter thrown about this way or that, with no real rhyme or reason behind any of it. Many opponents of the Stoics, especially the Epicureans, argued for precisely that. It is also the philosophical trend of our age to think this way, so we must surely take it into account.

Well, but what of it? We can bracket, for the moment, the source and purpose, the beginning and the end, the alpha and the omega of it all. Assume, for the sake of argument, that there is no higher, greater, or deeper meaning. Does this in any way negate the very identity of what I certainly know that I am, regardless of where I may have come from, and where I might be going?

I am a being endowed with the power of thought, and with a freedom of will. What I do is not merely the result of how I am acted upon, but of how I decide to act. I will even not call myself a creature, if you prefer, because that implies a Creator; let me just be a someone, a something that also has consciousness.

Somehow, perhaps, all the atoms just “happened” to come together to make a living animal, and a rational animal at that. I am still exactly what I was before, as in any other model, and my mission in life should be no different than it was before.

Know what is true. Love what is good. Act with virtue. I should be my own master, subject to only my own rightly informed conscience in how I live. As long as I remain a something, a someone, given reason and choice, I should fear nothing, never be determined by what is beyond my power, or be a slave to any other thing or to any other man.

Imagine, with John Lennon, that there is no God, and even then real moral character would not change one tiny bit. I should not lie, or steal, or seek money and power, or play all the games of pleasure we are so fond of playing. I am not merely an animal, ruled by passions, but a rational animal, ruled by my own judgments.

If you tell me there is no evidence for God, I will politely shrug my shoulders, and I will not bully you about the fact that all existence is itself evidence for God, God in action. Effects are measured by their causes. I have no intention of being offended, or fighting you, or casting you out of my life.

But if you tell me that you are not a being of reason and will, I will hold a mirror to your face.

You give me an argument that you are just an animal? You have just proven you are more than an animal, by appealing to reason.

You insist that you have no choice? I see you making a choice at this very moment, when you know full well you could have chosen differently.

You tell me you are ruled by desire alone? Your very telling itself requires an understanding beyond desire.

I will love and respect you, whoever you are, and whatever you might think. I still believe that none of us were made for nothing. Tell me that there is no God, and I will understand completely, having felt that way many times before; tell me that you are not a being of awareness, and I will question either your sanity or your honesty.

No God? Fine, if you must insist. You say you cannot “see” Him, even as He stares you in the face. No humanity? On that no one can ever insist, already being human to begin with.

Removing God will not changes the calling of our virtue, the expression of everything that is our nature. But how wonderful it would be, if we could choose to understand our nature within all of Nature. God is not something outside; God is.

Written in 12/2008

Dhammapada 45

The disciple will overcome the earth, and the world of Yama, and the world of the gods. The disciple will find out the plainly shown path of virtue, as a clever man finds out the right flower. 

Turning Events

Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 9.38

If a man has done wrong, the harm is his own.

But perhaps he has not done wrong.

—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, Book 9.38 (tr Long)

The first statement is classic Stoicism. The second statement is Stoicism in its sharpest form. It is one thing to understand that the wrongs of another can do me no harm, but it goes even further to admit that perhaps there was never a wrong to begin with.

If I have felt hurt, my first assumption is that someone has hurt me. No, I have only hurt myself, while the actions of another have darkened his own character. Our thoughts and deeds reflect back onto ourselves, for good or for ill.

Still, I will be tempted to cast blame. This relieves me of responsibility, and allows me to harbor a resentment to justify my indignation and outrage. I assume that if evil was done to me, I am now permitted to do evil in return, and so we continue in the cycle of hatred for hatred.

Yes, a terrible injustice may have been committed, my possessions taken, or my reputation ruined, or my body crippled. Still, my own judgment will determine how I allow any of this to affect me. The evil begins in another man’s heart and mind, and he wishes to cast it upon me as well. Yet if I simply hold up my hand and do not allow it to enter my own heart and mind, the evil stays with him.

Allow me to also consider the power of my own estimation at a deeper level than that. I am the one in control of the damage done to my soul by an offense. Am I not also the one in control of discerning if there even was an offense at all?

How often have I hastily judged that someone has acted with malice, or is out to get me, or has wished to do me some harm? And how often has that perception actually been completely false, a result only of my own imagination, a foolish assumption that says nothing about what is wrong with another, and everything about what is wrong with me?

It is easy to rush to a conclusion, and to let my doubts about my own motives lead to my questioning the motives of others. I am still allowing my impressions to rule me instead of ruling myself.

By all means, let me bear any wrongdoing by another with dignity and charity. Let me also be careful never to think there even was any wrongdoing where it did not exist. It is a noble thing to be the better man, and nobler still not to presume that another is the worse man.

Written in 12/2008

IMAGE: "You bad man! You very very bad man!"

Epictetus, Golden Sayings 88

Which of us does not admire what Lycurgus the Spartan did? 

A young citizen had put out his eye, and been handed over to him by the people to be punished at his own discretion. 

Lycurgus abstained from all vengeance, but on the contrary instructed and made a good man of him. 

Producing him in public in the theater, he said to the astonished Spartans: 

"I received this young man at your hands full of violence and wanton insolence; I restore him to you in his right mind and fit to serve his country." 

Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 9.37

Enough of this wretched life, and murmuring, and apish tricks. Why are you disturbed?

What is there new in this? What unsettles you? Is it the form of the thing? Look at it. Or is it the matter? Look at it.

But besides these there is nothing. Towards the gods then, now become at last more simple and better. It is the same whether we examine these things for a hundred years or three.

—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, Book 9.37 (tr Long)

I notice quite often how people like to insist that they are so very happy, yet they still regularly clench their jaws in frustration, or bicker with their neighbors, or sit there during a conversation while ripping up ever-smaller pieces of paper. There is lots of aggression, resentment, and scheming, and I wonder how that could possibly be happiness.

So much of it involves playing a role when people are looking, and then thrashing about when we think no one is really looking. It is the cult of appearances, the substitution of outward posturing for inner peace.

I know it quite well, because I’ve done it myself. I feel miserable, I complain all of the time, and then I play the part of some trained animal doing a clever performance to win some tasty treats. I may curse the boss, but I still beg like a dog, forcing myself to wag my tail, whenever he casts his glance my way.

What is truly bothering me? The fact that I am not myself, but rather allowing myself to be ruled by images. I lie to myself, and to others, and say that all is fine; but it isn’t fine, because I have a hole in my heart.

What is it that entrances me? The vanity of the outsides, and the neglect of the insides. I must look more closely. It is all made of gross matter, put together for this moment in a temporary form.

Why should that frighten me? It shouldn’t. They are all just things, each one no more impressive than any other. Their power is in how I think about them, never in what they actually are.

Be simple and be better. These two go together. Simplicity is not about having less, but about being more through wanting less. Being better is not about lording it over others, but about seeing myself within others, and others within myself.

It is time to stop being a mimicking ape, and to become a man who rules. I need not rule anything, however, beyond myself. That is enough. That fact won’t change, however long I fret over it.

Written in 12/2008

Thomas a Kempis, The Imitation of Christ 1.17

Of a religious life

1. It behooves you to learn to mortify yourself in many things, if you will live in amity and concord with other men. It is no small thing to dwell in a religious community or congregation, and to live there without complaint, and therein to remain faithful even unto death. Blessed is he who has lived a good life in such a body, and brought it to a happy end. If you will stand fast and will profit as you ought, hold yourself as an exile and a pilgrim upon the earth. You will have to be counted as a fool for Christ, if you will lead a religious life.

2. The clothing and outward appearance are of small account; it is change of character and entire mortification of the affections which make a truly religious man. He who seeks anything save God and the health of his soul, shall find only tribulation and sorrow. Nor can he stand long in peace, who strives not to be least of all and a servant of all.

3. You are called to endure and to labor, not to a life of ease and trifling talk. Here therefore are men tried as gold in the furnace. No man can stand, unless with all his heart he will humble himself for God's sake.

Tao Te Ching 30

He who would assist a lord of men in harmony with the Tao will not assert his mastery in the kingdom by force of arms. Such a course is sure to meet with its proper return.

Wherever a host is stationed, briars and thorns spring up. In the sequence of great armies there are sure to be bad years.

A skillful commander strikes a decisive blow, and stops. He does not dare by continuing his operations to assert and complete his mastery. 

He will strike the blow, but will be on his guard against being vain or boastful or arrogant in consequence of it. He strikes it as a matter of necessity; he strikes it, but not from a wish for mastery.

When things have attained their strong maturity they become old. This may be said to be not in accordance with the Tao: and what is not in accordance with it soon comes to an end.

Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 9.36

The rottenness of the matter that is the foundation of everything!

Water, dust, bones, filth: or again, marble rocks, the callosities of the earth; and gold and silver, the sediments; and garments, only bits of hair; and purple dye, blood; and everything else is of the same kind.

And that which is of the nature of breath is also another thing of the same kind, changing from this to that.

—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, Book 9.36 (tr Long)

Many philosophies can enlighten the mind and inspire the heart, but few philosophies, I have found, can speak so deeply to daily practice as that of the Stoics.

Whenever anything seems to be so overwhelming, I can employ just one simple trick. I must only ask myself, “What is it made of?”

The overall image might be quite impressive, but I must only examine the parts that constitute it. A charming house, but it is made of straw. A seductive smile, but it’s the lipstick that gives it so much class. An imposing demeanor, but without the expensive suit he’s just another old fat man.

All of it, every single thing, is made of exactly the same sort of matter. None of it ever stays in the same form, none of it is lasting, and none of it is invincible. It is all weak, malleable, and corruptible. Yes, in and of itself, it is quite pathetic. Look at all the bits that make it up, and it will no longer seem so powerful. This is an incredibly effective way to put everything, and everyone, in their rightful place.

I have seen corpses three times in my life, not counting the plastic mannequins we view at funerals. Each and every time I was certainly terrified how this vessel once housed a soul, but most importantly I saw how fragile that vessel truly was.

A sight I can never remove from my memory is that of a dead child with a smashed skull, just run over by a car. Blood was still seeping onto the road, and the eyes were still open. It haunts me, but it also informs me. I, too, am nothing more than that. I am not made of iron, and I will be crushed as well. Even the iron in this world will rust.

Look at the boss who bullies you, or the so-called friend who insults you behind your back, or the lover who has betrayed you. The outsides may intimidate you, but the insides are made of the same organic mush that you are. It is hardly as big as you think.

Look at the threatening letters your bank sends you when you happen to be late on a payment for this or that. The outsides may frighten you, but the insides are just paper printed off from a lifeless machine, in turn produced from an algorithm written by a pimply programmer. It is hardly as horrifying as you think.

Look at the pain you have carried with you for years and years, because a certain event made you doubt everything you held dear. The outsides may leave you hopeless, but the insides are nothing more than things happening as they will happen, and people doing what they will do. It is hardly as traumatizing as you think.

Pardon my French, but all the big people also pass gas, stink of sweat, pick their dirty toenails, have hemorrhoids, and are slowly dying from diseases they don’t yet know they have, just like you and me.

All the big things in life are slowly crumbling, falling apart moment by moment, and will be ugly tomorrow, even as they were thought beautiful today.

And to recognize this is not a bad thing at all. It is liberation. It’s all made of the same components, and all of it comes and goes. That leaves only one thing that makes any difference, even if it too shall pass: the life lived with character while it can still be lived. That is the most practical guidance. 

Written in 12/2008

Look Within

Sayings of Socrates 3

Oh dear Pan, and all the other gods of this place, grant that I may be beautiful inside. 

Let all my external possessions be in friendly harmony with what is within. 

May I consider the wise man rich. 

As for gold, let me have as much as a moderate man could bear and carry with him.

—Socrates' prayer,  Plato, Phaedrus, 279
 

Boethius, The Consolation 3.22

“Ah! how wretched are they

whom ignorance leads astray by her crooked path!

You seek not gold upon green trees,

nor gather precious stones from vines,

nor set your nets on mountain tops

to catch the fishes for your feast,

nor hunt the Umbrian sea in search of goats.

Man knows the depths of the sea themselves,

hidden though they be beneath its waves;

he knows which water best yields him pearls,

and which the scarlet dye.

But in their blindness men are content,

and know not where lies hid the good that they desire.

They sink in earthly things, and there they seek

that which has soared above the star-lit heavens.

What can I call down upon them

worthy of their stubborn folly?

They go about in search of wealth and honors;

and only when they have by labors vast

stored up deception for themselves,

do they at last know what is their true good.”

—from Book 3, Poem 8

Though I imagine such pranks would no longer be considered acceptable in our time of heightened sensitivity, I do recall my family telling me all about the legendary 1957 April Fools’ “Spaghetti Harvest” television segment by the BBC. It showed a Swiss farming family busy gathering the bumper crop from their spaghetti trees, so grateful for the disappearance of the terrible spaghetti weevil.  The story has it that hundreds of viewers wrote in, asking if they too could grow the spaghetti tree in Britain.

I might laugh that people believed the story, but then again, I once also managed to let my own trickster of a father convince me that whether a fire engine was red or yellow depended on the first letter of the city or town it came from.

Yes, we are prone to believing all sorts of ridiculous claims. And what could be more foolish than insisting that the goal of human happiness could ever be satisfied by acquiring and hoarding things far inferior to human nature? Instead of looking higher, we stoop lower. We seek the perfect in what is inherently imperfect.

No one in his right mind thinks that gold and jewels grow on trees, or that fish are caught on mountaintops, or that goats should be bred in the sea. We all become quite expert at our particular businesses and trades, and we will know most everything about how to build a widget, or sell a doohickey, or make ourselves rich and famous by playing a certain game. We have engineering, and marketing, and politics as the refined skills of getting all of that done.

Now what is the skill of actually being human, simply for its own sake? Well, we call it philosophy, but we’ve made it into a shambles. It is neutered by doubts and excuses.

I was often worried how people spend so much time and effort on perfecting the means, while almost completely neglecting the end. I was quite wary of too much pride here, because it is hardly my place to tell other people they are confused just because we might happen to disagree.

But the problem was far deeper than that. It wasn’t just that people might have thought differently than me, but that they couldn’t seem to explain the reasons why they thought that way. There were all these theories and foundations for being successful, but there didn’t seem to be any about being good, or about actually being happy. Why, I would ask, should I pursue this one aspect of my life, and leave the other behind? I was usually met with a vacant stare.

“Well, that’s just how it’s done.”

“Without a good job, you’ll obviously be nobody!”

“What, do you want to get old without a decent retirement plan?”

“Stop asking stupid questions, and just do what you need to do.”

So if it’s popular it’s good, if it makes money it’s good, if it’s convenient it’s good, and one should act for something without understanding why one acts?

Again, we are brilliant with the means, clueless with the ends. And only when it is perhaps too late do we realize how we’ve been paying attention to all the wrong things. Remember, that’s exactly where Boethius came to be as his life was soon to end.

So I ask myself, if I won’t believe in the spaghetti tree, why am I still tempted to believe in the blessings of fortune and fame? When it comes down to it, the former is far more reasonable than the latter.

Written in 9/2015

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tVo_wkxH9dU