Giuseppe Arcimboldo, The Four Seasons

Giuseppe Arcimboldo, The Four Seasons: Spring, Summer, Autumn, Winter (1563)

Giuseppe Arcimboldo, The Four Elements

Giuseppe Arcimboldo, The Four Elements: Air, Fire, Earth, Water (1566)

Sayings of Heraclitus 31

The transformations of Fire are, first of all, sea; and half of the sea is earth, half whirlwind. . . .

It becomes liquid sea, and is measured by the same tale as before it became earth. 

Pieter Bruegel, The Seven Virtues: Charity

Seneca, On Peace of Mind 14.7

Do you think that Canius played upon that draught-board? No, he played with it. His friends were sad at being about to lose so great a man.

"Why," asked he, "are you sorrowful? You are enquiring whether our souls are immortal, but I shall presently know."

Nor did he, up to the very end cease his search after truth, and raised arguments upon the subject of his own death. His own teacher of philosophy accompanied him, and they were not far from the hill on which the daily sacrifice to Caesar our god was offered, when he said, "What are you thinking of now, Canius? Or what are your ideas?"

"I have decided," answered Canius, "at that most swiftly-passing moment of all to watch whether the spirit will be conscious of the act of leaving the body."

What is the difference between playing with the board or playing on the board? There’s the rub!

Some people make the game all of who they are, defining themselves by their wins and losses. When they win, they shout it out from the mountaintops; when they lose, they say it was all a part of a clever restructuring plan.

Others will play, and they care nothing for the actual outcome of the game; they care if they played it well. Their satisfaction is in what we used to call sportsmanship, a crusty old value, concerned with the building of character.

Like Socrates, Canius had his many friends, who were devastated by the prospect of losing him. I don’t know what that feels like, as I have rarely had any true friends beyond my own family. I have my parents, and I have my wife, and I have my young children. They are the circle of my world. They are the only people who would ever notice if I was gone.

Well, let me work with that. If they asked me about dying, what would I say? Exactly what Canius said, with exactly the same sense of dry humor.

“Will there be anything left of me? I have no idea! It will be fascinating, however, to find out how all of that works out!”

I was raised as a Catholic, and I will certainly die as a Catholic. I know that there is a God, and I know that He loves me. I know that I am made for something, and I do my best to follow that calling. My love of Stoicism is not in contradiction to my love of God, but rather a complement to it.

Now what will happen to me when I die? I used to think in terms of a paradise for me, and a hell for my enemies. Then I started growing up.

I will not fight with the theologians, and I will not bicker with those who claim to know the will of the Almighty. I will judge no one, and I will never condemn anyone to the fires of Gehenna.

I will do one thing, and one thing only: I will do my best to live with virtue, and I will open myself to any grace that is sent my way.

What will God do with me when I die? I honestly don’t know, and it really isn’t my business. It’s His business.

Perhaps He will erase me completely, though my faith tells me that I am immortal. But how will I be immortal? There are many ways I might continue in this Universe, and most of them are not at all what I might expect. God’s ways are bigger than my ways.

Perhaps He will send me to Heaven or to Hell. I actually don’t know what that means anymore, at least not in the way that the simplistic ideologues mean it.

I do grasp that the greatest happiness would be to know and to love the greatest good, and so Heaven would be knowing and loving God, the presence of all Being. By extension, Hell would be the lack of God, the absence of all Being.

And none of that is within my power. Let God express His power. He is not merely above all things; He is the very measure of all things. He is Being, and I am a being. He is perfect existence, and perfect awareness, and perfect love. I am a creature who is nothing without my Creator.

Sorry, most Modern Stoics, the trendy secularists, hate talk like that. They like the power over self part, but not how the power over self is a part of a greater Providence. That’s not Stoicism as a whole, as I understand it, but they have their own paths.

I love what Canius says here. I will die, and I will treat it all like any other experience. I will soon find out how it works. Will I still have a conscious spirit after the body dies? I can’t say. It will be fun to learn about that one last thing!

And seriously, should I live my life any differently, whether or not there is an afterlife? A good life is a good life. If all you want is some reward after the fact, then it wasn’t really a good life, was it?

Are you playing now to get your booty later? We used to have a name for you, but good manners tell me to not throw stones. Be who you must be. I will be who I must be. God will sort us out.

Written in 12/2011

The Prisoner

Joseph Wright, The Prisoner (1790)

Tidbits from Montaigne 13

All of the days go toward death, and the last one arrives there.

—Michel de Montaigne, Essays 1.20 

Seneca, On Peace of Mind 14.6

It is marvelous how that man spoke and acted, and how peaceful he was. He was playing at draughts when the centurion in charge of a number of those who were going to be executed bade him to join them.

On the summons he counted his men and said to his companion, "Mind you do not tell a lie after my death, and say that you won."

Then, turning to the centurion, he said "You will bear me witness that I am one man ahead of him."

The first thing I notice is how Canius is playing checkers, what my old Irish family used to call draughts, as he knows that his execution is approaching.

Is he in denial? Is he just being facetious? Is this some form of clever and angry protest? I may think such things whenever I no longer have faith in the goodness of a human soul. Many people I know are dark and cynical about life, always seeing the worst, and always using this as a means to complain about how unfairly they are being treated.

Maybe, just maybe, a good game of checkers is all I need? There I can have a laugh, and quicken my mind, and enjoy the fellowship of a friend.

I have a sneaking suspicion that the man actually meant it, that he spent some of the last bit of time he had left to enjoy a humble amusement.

I am not the sharpest tool in the shed, and it took me a few readings of this simple text to appreciate another aspect of its meaning.

Taken away from his game, he asks his opponent to be honest.

Then, facing the guard whose job it is to push him this way and that, he asks the bully to be honest as well.

Death is near, and he is encouraging others to practice virtue, however firmly his tongue is planted in his cheek.

In so many ways, sincerity is at the core of virtue. Know yourself, and be honest with yourself. Know right from wrong, and make no excuses. Know that others deserve to be given that truth, instead of any lies that might be more convenient.

How much does it really matter if I win this game of checkers, or if I get that promotion at work, or if I acquire more fame than my neighbor? All of that might be nice and well, but it will be of no use to me if I am not honest and caring from the get-go.

How many years have I now wasted in being bigger, while others become smaller? How much effort have I now expended in being a fraud?

Integrity may not win me any games, but it will allow me to die with a sense of genuine worth.

Written in 12/2011

Dhammapada 83

Good people walk on whatever may befall them; the good do not prattle, longing for pleasure; whether touched by happiness or sorrow wise people never appear elated or depressed. 

Old School Virtues

Sandro Botticelli and Piero del Pollaiolo, Theological and Cardinal Virtues (c. 1471)

Seneca, On Peace of Mind 14.5

Whatever he meant, it was a magnanimous answer. Someone may say, "After this Gaius might have let him live."

Canius had no fear of this: the good faith with which Gaius carried out such orders as these was well known. Will you believe that he passed the ten intervening days before his execution without the slightest despondency?

We now condemn people to death, and they wait for many years, even decades, to be given a release from their torture. At least Canius only had to wait for ten days.

Might Caligula have shown mercy? Perhaps, but it wouldn’t have been mercy at all, would it? It would have been yet another posturing of power, an expression of his dominance.

“Watch me take your life, and then watch me give it back. Now worship me!”

Does that seem too dramatic? Well, you’ve seen that when it comes to the boss at your job, or the manager about your bank loan, or that judge who lords over you concerning some late parking tickets.

My grandmother once described to me how it was in Austria, after the Anschluss of 1938. The most vicious of people now stopped gossiping and pointing fingers, and they started having you mangled for being whatever they disliked.

Many lost their livelihoods, and many more were shunned in proper society. A few, the most annoying, were hauled away, a hint of what would soon come.

The easy way out, my grandmother said, was to beg for forgiveness, and to give the holy salute. Then you might be graciously spared, kissing the feet of your new masters.

Then you would eventually die on the Eastern Front, by the hands of yet another authoritarian regime.

Do you still think I am exaggerating? It all comes around again.

Canius saw through it all, recognizing that there is no place for playing power games. Only one power matters, the power over our own choices; nothing ever trumps a healthy conscience.

Did you think you were better because you could oppress me? Did you think it would hurt me? Canius knew better.

The greatest enemy to such people, the fancy folks with their money and influence, is not a massive and violent social revolution; that will only lead to another set of bullies.

No, the only solution is an individual revolution of the heart and mind, where I myself, and only myself, choose to define myself. Choose to hate me, and I will still choose to love you. Try to give me grief, and I will still find a way to joy. 

Written in 12/2011 

IMAGE: Rounding up the unpopular Austrians
 

Isle of the Dead

Arnold Böcklin, Die Toteninsel (Isle of the Dead) (1886)

Epictetus, Golden Sayings 125

Know you not that the thing is like warfare? 

One man's duty is to mount guard, another must go out to reconnoiter, a third to battle; all cannot be in one place, nor would it even be expedient. 

But you, instead of executing your Commander's orders, complain if anything harsher than usual is enjoined; not understanding to what condition you are bringing the army, so far as in you lies. 

If all were to follow your example, none would dig a trench, none would cast a rampart around the camp, none would keep watch, or expose himself to danger; but all turn out useless for the service of war. . . . 

Thus it is here also. Every life is a warfare, and that long and various. You must fulfill a soldier's duty, and obey each order at your Commander's nod.

Yes, if it be possible, divine what He would have done; for between that Command and this, there is no comparison, either in might or in excellence. 

Seneca, On Peace of Mind 14.4

Julius Canius, a man of peculiar greatness, whom even the fact of his having been born in this century does not prevent our admiring, had a long dispute with Gaius, and when as he was going away that Phalaris of a man said to him, "That you may not delude yourself with any foolish hopes, I have ordered you to be executed."

He answered, "I thank you, most excellent prince."

I am not sure what he meant, for many ways of explaining his conduct occur to me. Did he wish to be reproachful, and to show him how great his cruelty must be if death became a kindness?

Or did he upbraid him with his accustomed insanity? for even those whose children were put to. death, and whose goods were confiscated, used to thank him.

Or was it that he willingly received death, regarding it as freedom?

I wish I could learn more about Julius Canius, or Kanus, than the little snippets I have managed to come across from time to time. Boethius mentions him in the Consolation of Philosophy, one of my favorite texts, and Seneca’s account here is the most thorough I have found.

I need more examples like Canius in my life, because one of my greatest struggles is still about coming to terms with so much of the heartlessness I see around me.

Sometimes it takes on the form of horrible violence and brutality, and sometimes it takes on the form of cunning manipulation and deception, and sometimes it takes on the form of cold indifference and rejection.

What it all shares in common is a willingness to treat others as mere things, as objects to be moved about for profit or gratification, to be used and then discarded.

If Canius could face it with such calm conviction, and also with such good cheer, then it is hardly beyond human means to confront injustice without resentment. If he could do it, it is still possible that I can learn to do it. Perhaps I can manage to do the right thing, and not end up being all bent out of shape by it?

Both a statesman and a Stoic, Julius Canius was just one of many others who found himself on the wrong side of Gaius Caesar Augustus, otherwise known as Caligula, or “Little Boots”. The new emperor was no longer that cute boy running about the army camp, and he quickly became a sadistic tyrant. He saw plots against him everywhere, and it was probably inevitable that Canius would be accused of scheming to overthrow him.

We have all known people like that, who consider themselves the center of the Universe, who take any difference as a personal offense, and who will find the greatest pleasure in watching you suffer. Some are emperors, but others just manage the local office. Some decide the fate of nations, but others just break your heart.

Now I have never had anyone seriously threaten to kill me yet, but I have been told that my career would now be over, that I would lose all of my friends, and that I would soon be begging on the street.

In each case, I always did my best to maintain my own character above all else, and yet I still grumbled, and complained, and protested. Not once, at least not to this point, have I been able to say: “Thank you for treating me like your trash; you have only made yourself worse, and you have given me the opportunity to become better.”

I have thought it, I have even believed it, but I have still not been able to say it with all sincerity, without a glimmer of malice accompanying all of it.

Canius did it, and what a wonderful model that can be. Socrates did much the same many years earlier, when his last words to his friends were that he owed a sacrifice to Asclepius, a god of healing. They claim something similar about the martyr St. Lawrence, who was roasted alive, and still asked his tormentors to turn him over, as he was already well done on one side.

I think of what the legend of Phalaris says, that he had a bronze bull made, in which he cooked his enemies over a fire, and was satisfied by hearing the screams of his victims like the roar of the great beast. My problem is that I still boil with a rage like that of Phalaris.

How is my anger and hatred any different than his? If I am full of spite, what will keep me from doing the same to my enemies one day, if only I have the power to do so? It is too easy a line to cross.

Remove the will for revenge by removing the judgment that anyone needs to be hurt at all. It is easy to say “I love you” when everything is coming up roses, but it tests my worth when I am being crammed into a bronze bull, either literally or figuratively.

Still, if love is the law, and truth applies across the board, then I must treat my enemy with the same respect as I treat my friend. No, I should correct myself: more properly, I must treat no one as an enemy at all, and everyone as my friend.

Was Canius just trying to shame Caligula, or to call him out for his perversions? Perhaps that was a perfectly reasonable part of it, but on a deeper level he could only have acted as he did if he already understood something far more profound.

He knew where the real value of his own life lay, and so he was not troubled by death. He knew what mattered the most, and so he could not be bothered by less. He knew that he was not the victim at all, but that Caligula had made himself the victim.

Written in 12/2011

IMAGE: The Bronze Bull of Phalaris

Dream

M.C. Escher, Dream (1935)

Aesop's Fables 25

The Hart and the Hunter

The Hart was once drinking from a pool and admiring the noble figure he made there. 

"Ah," said he, "where can you see such noble horns as these, with such antlers! I wish I had legs more worthy to bear such a noble crown; it is a pity they are so slim and slight." 

At that moment a Hunter approached and sent an arrow whistling after him. 

Away bounded the Hart, and soon, by the aid of his nimble legs, was nearly out of sight of the Hunter. 

But not noticing where he was going, he passed under some trees with branches growing low down in which his antlers were caught, so that the Hunter had time to come up. 

"Alas! alas!" cried the Hart: 

"We often despise what is most useful to us."

Abandoned Places 3

Nature 5

Thomas a Kempis, The Imitation of Christ 3.17

That all care is to be cast upon God

1. "My Son, suffer Me to do with you what I will; I know what is expedient for you.You think as a man, in many things you judge as human affection persuades you."

2. Lord, what You say is true. Greater is Your care for me than all the care that I am able to take for myself. For too insecurely does he stand who casts not all his care upon You. Lord, so long as my will stands right and firm in You, do with me what You will, for whatsoever You shall do with me cannot be anything but good. Blessed be You if You will leave me in darkness. Blessed also be You if You will leave me in light. Blessed be You if You vouchsafe to comfort me, and always blessed be You if You cause me to be troubled.

3. "My Son! Even thus you must stand if you desire to walk with Me. You must be ready alike for suffering or rejoicing. You must be poor and needy as willingly as full and rich."

4. Lord, I will willingly bear for You whatsoever You will have to come upon me. Without choice I will receive from Your hand good and evil, sweet and bitter, joy and sadness, and will give You thanks for all things that shall happen unto me. Keep me from all sin, and I will not fear death nor hell. Only cast me not away for ever, nor blot me out of the book of life. Then no tribulation that shall come upon me shall do me hurt.

Boethius, The Consolation of Philosophy 5.1

Here she made an end and was for turning the course of her speaking to the handling and explaining of other subjects.

Then I said: “Your encouragement is right and most worthy in truth of your name and weight. But I am learning by experience what you just now said of Providence; that the question is bound up in others. I would ask you whether you think that Chance exists at all, and what you think it is?”

Then she answered: “I am eager to fulfil my promised debt, and to show you the path by which you may seek your home. But these things, though all-expedient for knowledge, are none the less rather apart from our path, and we must be careful lest you become wearied by our turnings aside, and so be not strong enough to complete the straight journey.”

“Have no fear at all of this,” I said. “It will be restful to know these things in which I have so great a pleasure; and when every view of your reasoning has stood firm with unshaken credit, so let there be no doubt of what shall follow.”

—from Book 5, Prose 1

I too have a tendency to get sidetracked, to become distracted by the trees at the expense of the forest, to jump down every intriguing rabbit hole I stumble across.

Part of that comes from spending too much time in academia, where the details are what offer the greatest appearance of authority, but it also comes from a very immediate human temptation. I am prone to focusing in on one thing, that one thing only that puzzles me the most, to the point where an attention to a single aspect blots out the context of the whole.

It is something like that nagging feeling I can get when I enter a beautifully furnished room, but that lone crooked picture keeps me from appreciating any of it.

So it is with good reason that Lady Philosophy worries about Boethius getting diverted from the path he has been trying to follow. I think of how many times I became obsessed with the precise meaning of a Latin word, and before I knew it, I had lost track of the sentence, and the entire passage along with it.

Perhaps she also sees the danger of making something more difficult that it has to be. Sometimes the solution is not found in looking more narrowly, but in understanding how the parts work together. The irony is that I wouldn’t even be having the problem to begin with, if I had only bothered to place it within the context of what lies around it.

Boethius here asks a tangential question, certainly an important one, yet one that I can’t help but think has somehow been answered, at least indirectly, by everything that came before.

What have we already learned about the way the Universe works, about how Providence acts, about how human freedom exists within such design, as opposed to being in conflict with it? Would Boethius still be asking the question if he had put two and two together for himself?

Yet he interrupts to ask it in any event, as I would surely have done as well. It can hover over everything else, that uncertainty as to whether anything is really certain at all.

Is there really such a thing as chance, or luck, or randomness? If there is, won’t that topple what sense of order we have, and if there isn’t, won’t that reduce the whole world to a pre-programmed machine?

I have learned about whole philosophies built on the absolute rejection of contingency, and I have seen entire systems of thought that require it to make anything work at all. I have never been satisfied with either extreme, since each will end up denying a basic fact of my experience. The lower causes will suffer at the expense of the higher causes, or the higher causes will suffer at the expense of the lower causes.

Is this really a rabbit hole where I want to stick my head? I suspect I will have to, since I find the problem so puzzling. At the same time, let me not forget what is outside that hole, and let me not be surprised if following the hole leads me right back to where I started.

Written in 1/2016