Tidbits from Montaigne 5

Things are not bad in themselves, but our cowardice makes them so. 

—Michel de Montaigne, Essays 1.14

Seneca, On Peace of Mind 7.1

Chapter 7

In all cases one should be careful in one's choice of men, and see whether they are worthy of our bestowing a part of our life upon them, or whether we shall waste our own time and theirs also: for some even consider us to be in their debt because of our services to them.

Athenodorus said that "he would not so much as dine with a man who would not be grateful to him for doing so”; meaning, I imagine, that much less would he go to dinner with those who recompense the services of their friends by their table, and regard courses of dishes as donatives, as if they overate themselves to do honor to others.

Take away from these men their witnesses and spectators: they will take no pleasure in solitary gluttony.

This all sounds like something my mother would have told me: “Know who you are, know what you’re doing, and know who you’re doing it with.” I’m hearing it in German in my head right now.

Ultimately, the only real obstacles I have ever faced were the ones I put in my own way. There was always something good to be found in any circumstance that was ever given to me, but I got myself into trouble when my own thoughts and actions failed to make the right use of those options.

These problems inevitably arose when I made poor judgments about the quality of my own character, about the tasks I chose to take on, and about the friends I decided to surround myself with. Of these, my pursuit of poor company has had the deepest and longest-lasting consequences.

Far too often, the act of trusting and following people with a very different sense of right and wrong than my own would encourage me to doubt my convictions. It becomes easier to stray from a path when you see others doing it ahead of you; what is outside the soul can slowly but surely color what is inside the soul, and you may not even notice it happening.

The temptation, of course, is to think that other people make us good or bad, when that is hardly the case. We make ourselves good or bad, though the environment we place ourselves in will make that much easier or much harder. To borrow a technical term from the Peripatetics, I remain the efficient cause of my judgments, the agent of action, even as my circumstances serve as material causes, the opportunity for action.

It is not that I should hate, or dismiss, or ignore people who live poorly, since I am called to seek what is good for them, just as I am for anyone; yes, I am even called to love them. Rather, I need to consider what sort of relationship I am forming with them, and how this will in turn relate to my own values. Even though I am the one steering the ship, the winds and currents will still be pushing at me from different sides.

Am I helping others if I condone their vices, whether explicitly or implicitly? Am I helping myself if I surround myself with vices? How can I be going in the right direction, if I am in the middle of a herd going in the wrong direction?

Consider the example, as Seneca does, of what the people we call our friends might expect from us. Do they give only when they receive? Are they more interested in what we can do for them than what they can do for us? Will their interest come and go with the degrees of their utility and pleasure?

A selfish heart will reveal itself in its constant need to be praised and compensated, to use others as a means to glorify itself. I think of a loud fellow I know, always wanting to be the center of attention, who will show up at parties with the finest food and drink, and then tells everyone that he was the one who provided them. He cares nothing for the gift, and is only waiting for the thanks.

I am not doing someone like that any favors by spending my time with him; in fact, I am doing him a disservice, because I am feeding his vanity. Let me respect him, by all means, but let me avoid traveling in his circles and living as he lives.

Nor am I doing myself any favors by spending my time with him; in fact, I am doing myself a disservice, because I am surrounding myself with the very things I need to avoid. Let me have a care for his welfare, but let me not care for what he cares about.

Remove a man’s opportunities for vice, and you may well help him choose to be less vicious. Don’t feed the trolls.

Remove a man from your own private affairs, and you may well help yourself to become more virtuous. Don’t blindly follow any herd.

Written in 8/2011

Dhammapada 75

"One is the road that leads to wealth, another the road that leads to Nirvana." 

If the Bhikshu, the disciple of Buddha, has learned this, he will not yearn for honor, he will strive after separation from the world. 

Boethius, The Consolation of Philosophy 4.24

“If any man knows not that the star Arcturus

has his course nearest the topmost pole

how shall he not be amazed

that Boötes so slowly takes his wain

and is so late to dip his brightness in the ocean,

and yet so swiftly turns to rise again?

The law of heaven on high will but bewilder him.

When the full moon grows dim to its horns,

darkened by the shadow of dull night,

when Phoebe thus lays bare all the varying bands of the stars,

which she had hidden by the power of her shining face:

then are the nations stirred by the errors of the vulgar,

and beat without ceasing brazen cymbals.

No man is surprised when the blasts of the wind

beat a shore with roaring waves,

nor when a solid mass of frozen snow

is melted by the warmth of Phoebus' rays;

for herein the causes are ready at hand to be understood.

But in those other matters the causes are hidden,

and so do trouble all men's hearts,

for time does not grant them

to advance with experience in such things as seldom recur:

the common herd is ever amazed at all that is extraordinary.

But let the cloudy errors of ignorance depart,

and straightway these shall seem no longer marvelous.”

—from Book 4, Poem 5

Why might I be perfectly willing to accept order, purpose, and design in some aspects of Nature, while being quite clueless about such meaning in other aspects?

If science has taught me that there is causality and balance in the physical world, why am I so quick to assume that there is no causality and balance in the moral world?

Are there facts and reasons governing the body, but no facts and reasons governing the soul?

Will some things in the Universe work out as they should, while other things will never work out at all?

If I only think it through for a moment, it seems rather ridiculous for me to deny that there is any order at all, just because I don’t immediately perceive that order. Perhaps I have not looked carefully at the right things, or in the right way?

Perhaps a man cannot immediately work out why heavy things fall, or water flows, or the wind blows, or fire burns, but he will soon see a pattern in how they behave, and before long their behavior will become so everyday that he will hardly think twice about them.

There are things far grander in scale, and far more mysterious, like the motions of the heavens or the changes of the seasons, that may puzzle him far more, but even there he learns that the sun, the moon, and the stars follow a complex sequence, one that repeats itself over and over again. The causes may remain hidden for some time, and he may be filled with wonder, but the harmony is already peeking through.

I can learn why something acts as it does only when I have rightly understood what it is by its nature. Though it may take me many years, or it may take the whole human race many generations, to solve a puzzle, it is patient observation and careful reasoning that yield greater understanding. The Universe, slowly but surely, reveals her workings to an open and willing mind.

The obstacle will not be in the things themselves, but in my poor estimation of them. I do myself a great disservice when I assume there is no order, or likewise when I make up imaginary causes to satisfy my eagerness for a hasty solution.

Some people may shrug their shoulders and give up farming if the weather won’t cooperate, while others may learn to plant at the right time. Some people may yell at the sky or sacrifice a goat when it doesn’t rain, while others will become familiar with the cycle of the seasons.

Now if I insist that my life is unfair, that nothing good can come from my situation, or that there is no Providence, am I not like the lazy farmer? If I pray to shadows, and worship false idols, am I not replacing wisdom with mere superstition?

I only think life is unjust, and that vice is unpunished while virtue goes unrewarded, when I am ignorant of my own nature, and when I turn away from the my place in all of Nature. It looks upside down, but I am upside down. I have started with a confusion about what is greater or lesser in life, and so I grow frustrated with life.

Wisdom can make ordinary what ignorance found extraordinary.

The stars don’t disappear if I am looking for them on the ground. Justice doesn’t disappear if I am searching for it in the wrong place.

Written in 11/2015

Stoic Snippets 16

The lot assigned to every man is suited to him, and suits him to itself.

—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 3.4

Epictetus, Golden Sayings 117

Ask me if you choose if a Cynic shall engage in the administration of the State. 

O fool, seek you a nobler administration that that in which he is engaged? 

Ask you if a man shall come forward in the Athenian assembly and talk about revenue and supplies, when his business is to converse with all men, Athenians, Corinthians, and Romans alike, not about supplies, not about revenue, nor yet peace and war, but about Happiness and Misery, Prosperity and Adversity, Slavery and Freedom?

 Ask you whether a man shall engage in the administration of the State who has engaged in such an Administration as this? Ask me too if he shall govern, and again I will answer, Fool, what greater government shall he hold than he holds already?

Arch of Nero

Thomas Cole, Arch of Nero (1846)

 

Lizard II

M.C. Escher, Lizard II (1941)

Four Times of the Day

Claude Joseph Vernet, Four Times of the Day: Morning, Midday, Evening, and Night (1757)

Ship of Fools

Hieronymus Bosch, Ship of Fools (c. 1500)

 

Aesop's Fables 17

The Woodman and the Serpent

One wintry day a Woodman was tramping home from his work when he saw something black lying on the snow. When he came closer, he saw it was a Serpent to all appearance dead. 

But he took it up and put it in his bosom to warm while he hurried home. As soon as he got indoors he put the Serpent down on the hearth before the fire. The children watched it and saw it slowly come to life again. 

Then one of them stooped down to stroke it, but the Serpent raised its head and put out its fangs and was about to sting the child to death. So the Woodman seized his axe, and with one stroke cut the Serpent in two. 

"Ah," said he, 

"No gratitude from the wicked."

Musonius Rufus, Lectures 8.4

The truth of this statement appears from the fact that men disagree and contend with one another about justice, some saying that it is here, others that it is there.

Yet about things of which men have knowledge there is no difference of opinion, as for example about white and black, or hot and cold, or soft and hard, but all think the same about them and use the same words.

In just the same way they would agree about justice if they knew what it was, but in their very lack of agreement they reveal their ignorance.

Indeed I am inclined to think that you are not far from such ignorance yourself, and you ought therefore more than anyone else to concern yourself with this knowledge, the more disgraceful it is for a king than for a private citizen to be ignorant about justice.

The claim of skepticism, that nothing can really be known, and the claim of relativism, that all opinions are equally true, seem to be quite prevalent among my generation, and so I find that I can hardly have a conversation about any matter of importance without having to confront these bugbears.

I leave aside, for the moment, the fact that these can hardly be consistent statements, as they reduce to the contradictions that it is certain that nothing is certain, and that everything both is and is not the case. No, I wonder what motivation could stand behind the embrace of a model that denies any shared meaning, and thereby removes the possibility of a greater accountability.

Perhaps I have already answered my own question?

If nothing can be known, then there will be no objective foundation for judgments of truth and falsehood, of right and wrong. If anything goes, sound principles will be replaced by mere subjective preferences. I may insist that something is good because I desire it, and I no longer consider that I should desire it because it is good.

It isn’t necessarily that I wish to be unreasonable, but that I do not wish to be responsible to anyone or anything else. It becomes an excuse for convenience over character. When I deny any facts, I no longer have any duties. Now it’s all about me, going on the ultimate ego trip.

I may think this is some sort of freedom, but it is rather a prison of the self. By closing myself to what is real, I have made myself a slave to my passions, to how it feels for only me.

It is ignorance that stands behind the fracturing of the true and the good, and it is wisdom that can restore the unity of things. The philosopher strives to see things are they are, and not simply as he wishes to see them. He then learns that he shares his own nature with all of his fellows, and that we all live in the same world, ordered by a single Nature.

When someone tells me that there is no such thing as virtue, or that justice cannot be defined, it will do me no good to become dismissive or angry. He says this because he has not looked beyond his own impressions, and I can hardly claim to know any better if I do not look beyond my own impressions. What might I do to show him what we have in common, instead of harping on all the differences? If he sees me only demanding what I desire, will it be any wonder that he then thinks of justice only by demanding what he desires?

It is tragic when we see someone deny a standard of giving people their proper due, because he does not distinguish between what is good and bad for all of human nature. It is even more tragic when we see a leader deny such a standard, since his very calling should be to guide us in living together.

Did I just notice Musonius calling out the Syrian king for being a bit confused about what it means to be fair? I do believe I did! Well, we would hardly want a king who is ignorant of justice, who confuses opinion with knowledge, now would we?

Written in 9/1999

Thomas a Kempis, The Imitation of Christ 3.9

That all things are to be referred to God, as the final end

1. "My Son, I must be your Supreme and final end, if you desire to be truly happy. Out of such purpose your affection shall be purified, which too often is sinfully bent upon itself and upon created things. For if you seek yourself in any matter, straightaway you will fail within yourself and grow barren. Therefore refer everything to Me first of all, for it is I who gave you all. So look upon each blessing as flowing from the Supreme Good, and thus all things are to be attributed to Me as their source.

2. "From Me the humble and great, the poor and the rich, draw water as from a living fountain, and those who serve Me with a free and faithful spirit shall receive grace for grace. But he who will glory apart from Me, or will be delighted with any good which lies in himself, shall not be established in true joy, nor shall be enlarged in heart, but shall be greatly hindered and thrown into tribulation. Therefore you must not ascribe any good to yourself, nor look upon virtue as belonging to any man, but ascribe it all unto God, without whom man has nothing. I gave all, I will receive all again, and with great strictness require I the giving of thanks.

3. "This is the Truth, and by it the vanity of boasting is put to flight. And if heavenly grace and true charity shall enter into you, there shall be no envy, nor straitening of the heart, nor shall any self-love take possession of you. For divine charity conquers all things, and enlarges all the powers of the soul. If you are truly wise, you will rejoice in Me alone, you will hope in Me alone; for there is none good but one, that is God, Who is to be praised above all things, and in all things to receive blessing."

Seneca, On Peace of Mind 6.3

Next we must form an estimate of the matter that we mean to deal with, and compare our strength with the deed we are about to attempt: for the bearer ought always to be more powerful than his load.

Indeed, loads that are too heavy for their bearer must of necessity crush him. Some affairs also are not so important in themselves as they are prolific and lead to much more business, for which employments, as they involve us in new and various forms of work, ought to be refused.

Neither should you engage in anything from which you are not free to retreat: apply yourself to something that you can finish, or at any rate can hope to finish. You had better not meddle with those operations that grow in importance, while they are being transacted, and that will not stop where you intended them to stop.

“Oh dear, what have I gotten myself into?” Yes, we all know that moment.

That thought may well come with a sense of surprise, helplessness, and regret. It would have been better if I had not engaged at all, than struggling to extricate myself now that I am committed to an impossible task.

Again, the temptation is to run away, while the wisdom should be to engage with restraint from the beginning. I have not made a mistake in taking a bite, though I have made a mistake in biting off more than I could chew. As the sign says at my favorite Chinese buffet, “Take what you want, but eat what you take.”

I should know my own limits first; then I should also know the scope of what I am trying to achieve. These two levels of awareness go together like a hand in a glove.

Or, to put it in another way, few things are more annoying than a shoe that is too small, or a shoe that is too large. Sure, it might look good at the shop, while the salesman is working me up for his commission, but walk in it for a few miles, and the pain will teach me quite the lesson about the difference between appearance and reality.

There is no longer any question in my mind that I am made to love without condition, as much as my selfishness may resist that calling, complete with all the stubborn kicking and screaming. The trick is in learning how to love, in deciding where I can do my best, in measuring what I am able to do, in knowing when to hang on, and when to let go.

If you are a bigwig, like Seneca or Serenus, born to the purple, as they say, I can’t help you with that part of the dilemma. But I suspect that such a difference in degree makes no real difference in kind. We will all go through exactly the same challenges, though we will do so in our own ways, and in our own time. The breadth of it all does not alter the depth of it all.

It is quite humbling to learn that I am not the Master of the Universe; it is also deeply fulfilling and liberating. The world was not made for me, but I was made as one piece the world. How might I give, instead of asking to receive? How might I serve, as opposed to demanding to be served? Let me discern the weight I am able to carry.

Baby steps. Little bits. Tiny bites. One day at a time. Do what you can, and ask for no more. I used to laugh at such silly claims, and then I finally started growing up. I became bigger as I became smaller.

He must increase, as I must decrease.

I knew there must be some serendipity, perhaps even Providence, in my parents naming me after St. John the Baptist.

The greatest dreams mean absolutely nothing without a sincere sense of proportion. Run with life, but don’t let life run away with you.

Written in 8/2011

Symmetry

M.C. Escher, Symmetry Drawing (1948)

Stay Out of My Light . . .

Salvator Rosa, Diogenes and Alexander (1662)

The Emperor demands, the Philosopher reprimands. . . 

Hans Holbein, The Dance of Death 7: The Emperor

Musonius Rufus, Lectures 8.3

Furthermore it is fitting for a king, or rather it is an absolute necessity for him, to arbitrate justice as between subjects so that no one may have more or less than his just deserts, but may receive honor or punishment as he deserves.

But how would anyone who was not just ever be able to manage this? And how would anyone ever be just if he did not understand the nature of justice?

Here again is a reason the king should study philosophy, for without such study it would not be plain that he knew justice and the just. For one cannot deny either that the one who has learned it will understand justice better than the one who has not learned it, or that all who have not studied philosophy are ignorant of its nature.

How could I possibly do it when I don’t even understand it? How could I possibly enforce it when I can’t even practice it for myself?

I have had the opportunity to follow some truly fine leaders, but you will not find them among the usual suspects. Instead of putting on a show, they are concerned with making sure that everyone is treated fairly, and they will go well out of their way to see that this happens. In this they are quite different than the wheelers and dealers, who are interested in utility instead of justice.

In the simplest of terms, the difference is between those who will give to other people what is rightly their due, and those who will give to other people only when they receive something else in return. One acts for the sake of his fellows, while the other acts for the sake of his own profit. We see righteousness in this corner, and a business transaction in that corner.

Whether it be in the hallowed halls of government or the cubicles of the office workers, only philosophy can inform those who are in a place of authority. This seems quite ridiculous to the bureaucrat, because he assumes that philosophy is far too theoretical, and management needs to be ever so practical. Yet philosophy, as the very measure of right and wrong, is itself necessary for all human practices, however mundane.

Do not tell me you are a good leader if you do not know what it means to be good, or that you treat people well when you cannot express what it means to live well.

If justice is “whatever works”, then this requires an awareness of what one is working toward. Where is the benefit? What aspects of a man should be improved? Will it be helpful for all, or only for some? Look behind any conflict in politics, or law, or business, and you will find that a confusion about these questions is at the root of the problem.

Some people claim that no one can ever be selfless, that everyone has a personal agenda. What this fails to recognize is that human judgment is quite capable of rising above mere desire, that some do indeed look to the whole instead of only the part, and that cooperation is as much of an option as conflict.

Beyond the “me” and the “you”, there could always be an “us”. Behind my good and your good, there is a shared good.  The philosopher understands this, because he knows that justice is always of mutual benefit, based upon merit and not upon privilege, and can only be practiced when it respects all human dignity without preference.

Even if you say that you can’t possibly do this, though I do wonder what is holding you back, do not assume that others are incapable of what you have rejected. The philosopher will still try to treat you well, even when you treat him poorly.

The true king, whatever sort of crown he wears, is a servant and not a tyrant. He will only bring peace instead of war as long as he remains a philosopher.

Written in 9/1999

Vanitas 8

Maria van Oosterwijck, Vanitas-Still Life (1668)

Seneca, On Peace of Mind 6.2

It is above all things necessary to form a true estimate of oneself, because as a rule we think that we can do more than we are able: one man is led too far through confidence in his eloquence, another demands more from his estate than it can produce, another burdens a weakly body with some toilsome duty.

Some men are too shamefaced for the conduct of public affairs, which require an unblushing front; some men's obstinate pride renders them unfit for courts; some cannot control their anger, and break into unguarded language on the slightest provocation; some cannot rein in their wit or resist making risky jokes.

For all these men leisure is better than employment: a bold, haughty and impatient nature ought to avoid anything that may lead it to use a freedom of speech that will bring it to ruin.

I have noticed that some people are drawn to Stoicism because of its stress on self-reliance, yet they can run into difficulty when they must confront the limits of what that self can do. They grow frustrated when they see that not everything is within their power, and such a lesson may not come easily.

Instead of recognizing our own boundaries, we vainly expand them to confuse our own nature with all of Nature. Rather than being content to be our own masters, we lust for a mastery over everything else. We do not find peace by being in harmony with the whole, but go to war so that we might conquer the whole. And then we wonder at the pain, the loss, and the tears.

I remind myself that there is no weakness in me when I do not rule over the nature of another, only when I do not take responsibility for my own nature. A mouse is no less because he is not an elephant, and I am no less if I do not possess anything or everything I see around me.

Do I wish to rule over a kingdom, to grow into a colossus, to turn everything I touch into gold? Even if any of that were somehow within my power, it could never replace the worth of having power over my own character.

If I follow the Delphic advice to know myself, I will be glad to accept both my strengths and my weaknesses. That my influence may not be cast wide does not mean it cannot run deep. My greed and vanity might tickle my desire to have more, but it will be sufficient to simply be better.

An awareness of my own particular dispositions and habits is a necessary part of this process. I am not nearly as clever, or as charming, or as beloved as I might like to think, and so I can learn to be quite content with improving my own soul whenever, wherever, and however I might be able.

There are many endeavors I am hardly suited for, because I do not have the gifts to be of benefit, only the flaws to cause more harm. My melancholy only gets in the way of inspiring hope, and my stubbornness only gets in the way of being a leader, and my concupiscence only gets in the way of distributing justice.

Until I can finally tame such inclinations, I am best served by first working on my private virtues, instead of taking on all sorts of public tasks. I will do neither myself nor anyone else any good by trying to be a teacher who lacks wisdom, or a judge who lacks mercy, or a commander who lacks courage. Let me attend to what is inside of me before I seek to influence what is outside of me.

The leisure of philosophy is not something that should come after I have pursued a worldly career, but needs to come well before I take on any responsibility of high office. Confusing that priority will never end well.

“I know I have what it takes to be a lawyer! I’m smart, I’m confident, and I know how to make people listen to me.”

“Yes, you most certainly have those qualities. Do you also have humility, integrity, and compassion?”

“Are you saying you don’t think I have them?”

“What I think doesn’t matter. Do you know if you have them?” 

Written in 8/2011