Updates, 10/7/2020

 

The reflections for Seneca's On Peace of Mind are now complete, as a workable version at least for the moment, and have also now been added as a full page on the sidebar. 

Some new pages have also been added to the Primary Texts section, including a nice old translation of Simplicius' commentary on the Handbook of Epictetus, some poetry by Ellis Walker, and an interesting book by E. Vernon Arnold on Roman Stoicism. 

New Seneca reflections will soon continue, for as long as possible, with entries on the Moral Letters to Lucilius. 

When the Musonius Rufus reflections are complete, which should happen in the next few months, an attempt will be made to offer reflections on Epictetus' Discourses. 

When the Boethius reflections are complete, also within the next few months, some reflections on Cicero are intended to take their place in the rotation. 

Thank you for continuing to read along!

 —bsc

 

Sayings of Ramakrishna 35

As at one time I am clothed, and at another time naked, so Brahman is at one time with attributes and at another without.

Seneca, On Peace of Mind 17.8

 

I have now, my beloved Serenus, given you an account of what things can preserve peace of mind, what things can restore it to us, what can arrest the vices which secretly undermine it: yet be assured, that none of these is strong enough to enable us to retain so fleeting a blessing, unless we watch over our vacillating mind with intense and unremitting care.

 

I can be offered all the most profound insights, and be armed with quivers full of clever trick arrows, and read all the most esteemed books, the ones the talking heads said were life-changing, and none of it will do me any good at all if I won’t take responsibility for myself.

 

I might think it easier and more gratifying to embrace a way of thinking that casts blame far and wide, wallows in self-righteous indignance, and demands constant recognition and compensation. Yet none of that addresses who I am, or what I choose to do, and it merely passes the buck. I become morally lazy, a man who makes excuses instead of owning himself.

 

I like owls not just because they are viewed as symbols of wisdom, but also because they are ever watchful, surely itself a property of acute awareness. I once slept in a barn where an owl gazed at me constantly from the rafters, and instead of feeling weirded out, I felt oddly safe. He looked out for me far better than I could look out for myself.

 

My calling to a watchfulness over myself does not require worry, or anxiety, or constant struggle. It can be calm, and restful, and secure, safe in the knowledge that nothing can harm me on the inside if I don’t let the fretting or the fear enter into my own estimation.

 

It won’t be enough to speak of it in theory, because on any given day, at every possible moment, I need to maintain a conscious commitment to my character. Activity, and not mere passivity, are suitable for any creature that has life, and a life of action that follows from deliberate judgment is most suitable for a creature endowed with reason and choice.

 

The peace of mind will not come to me of its own accord, but is rather something I must take a hold of for myself. It will not follow from accumulating things, or winning praises, or wallowing in brutish pleasures; those are hardly achievements in any way, because they have very little to do with me. No, the transformation comes from a mastery of my own thoughts.

 

With time, that attentiveness and watchfulness take on the form of a habit, and yet even if it becomes easier, it must still remain conscious at all times. Doubt creeps in when I’m not looking, and my convictions become weak when I’ve let down my guard. If I know what life is about, I will be just as willing to be dedicated to my own wisdom and virtue as I was once dedicated to running after vanities.

 

“Why am I not happy, at peace with myself and my world?” There is no secret formula to be discovered somewhere out there; if I am honest, I will know that it is because I haven’t been taking care of myself.

 

Written in 1/2012

Sayings of Socrates 44

He roused Iphicrates the general to a martial spirit by showing him how the fighting cocks of Midias the barber flapped their wings in defiance of those of Callias. Glauconides demanded that he should be acquired for the state as if he were some pheasant or peacock.

He used to say it was strange that, if you asked a man how many sheep he had, he could easily tell you the precise number; whereas he could not name his friends or say how many he had, so slight was the value he set upon them. 

Seeing Euclides keenly interested in eristic arguments, he said to him: "You will be able to get on with sophists, Euclides, but with men not at all." For he thought there was no use in this sort of hair-splitting, as Plato shows us in the Euthydemus.

—Diogenes Laërtius, Lives of the Eminent Philosophers 2.30

Seneca, On Peace of Mind 17.7

The mind cannot use lofty language, above that of the common herd, unless it be excited. When it has spurned aside the commonplace environments of custom, and rises sublime, instinct with sacred fire, then alone can it chant a song too grand for mortal lips: as long as it continues to dwell within itself it cannot rise to any pitch of splendor: it must break away from the beaten track, and lash itself to frenzy, till it gnaws the curb and rushes away bearing up its rider to heights whither it would fear to climb when alone.

I suppose Plato was on to something, when he recognized the need for a sort of intoxication to bring forth insight, and Aristotle wasn’t far from the mark, when he said that a great mind flirts with a kind of madness.

I need not assume that intense passions must be in conflict with reason; when the fires of the heart are in harmony with wisdom, they can surely inspire us to ascend to the loftiest of heights. It isn’t that I shouldn’t be feeling, but rather that my feeling shouldn’t be without the sight of awareness.

It is perhaps that very need to rise above the humdrum conformity of everyday life, which is itself an expression of narrow thoughtlessness, that will make the poet appear as if he is drunk, or the philosopher come across as a lunatic.

Words of beauty will sound like the chattering of animals to someone who won’t really listen, and words of truth will sound like the mumbling of a fool to someone who won’t really think. Always there is this dull sense that if it is unfamiliar or uncommon, it must be the result of insanity, perhaps even something deeply dangerous. Stray just a bit from the acceptable norms, and they will look at you with profound worry.

If I say to someone that the voice of a Muse is speaking to me, what are the chances that they will eventually lock me away? What if I said I was struggling to hear God?

I think of the enlightened man who has escaped from the confines of Plato’s Cave, who has ripped himself not only from the shadows but also from the very objects that cast those shadows, upward and onward to a world above ground, illuminated by the sun itself. He would only wish to return back into the darkness to liberate his friends, even though they will look at him as a man possessed.

Yet if I am ever to make any sense of myself, I can only do so when I see myself within the context of the whole, and for this I will need to be swept away, to be lifted up.

I have rarely had the blessing of being consumed by such a rapture, though I will never forget a day when I was chatting with a grubby street musician back in Boston. I’m not sure what came over me, but for a brief moment he seemed like the only person in the whole city who was sane, and all the yuppies rushing around him, desperately trying to avoid meeting his eyes, were the ones who were deranged.

Sometimes the veil is torn apart, and that means either I have finally lost my marbles, or I have possibly been gifted the glimmer of a higher point of view. Maybe it’s a bit of both.

Written in 1/2012

IMAGE: Gustave Moreau, Hesiod and the Muse (1891)

Tao Te Ching 69

A master of the art of war has said, 'I do not dare to be the host, to commence the war; I prefer to be the guest, to act on the defensive. I do not dare to advance an inch; I prefer to retire a foot.' 

This is called marshaling the ranks where there are no ranks; baring the arms to fight where there are no arms to bare; grasping the weapon where there is no weapon to grasp; advancing against the enemy where there is no enemy.  

There is no calamity greater than lightly engaging in war. To do that is near losing the gentleness which is so precious. Thus it is that when opposing weapons are actually crossed, he who deplores the situation conquers. 

Four Virtues

Alina Gordienko, Prudentia / Fortitudo / Temperantia / Justitia 

Seneca, On Peace of Mind 17.6

It does good also to take walks out of doors, that our spirits may be raised and refreshed by the open air and fresh breeze: sometimes we gain strength by driving in a carriage, by travel, by change of air, or by social meals and a more generous allowance of wine: at times we ought to drink even to intoxication, not so as to drown, but merely to dip ourselves in wine: for wine washes away troubles and dislodges them from the depths of the mind, and acts as a remedy to sorrow as it does to some diseases.

The inventor of wine is called Liber, not from the license which he gives to our tongues, but because he liberates the mind from the bondage of cares, and emancipates it, animates it, and renders it more daring in all that it attempts.

Yet moderation is wholesome both in freedom and in wine. It is believed that Solon and Arcesilaus used to drink deep. Cato is reproached with drunkenness, but whoever casts this in his teeth will find it easier to turn his reproach into a commendation than to prove that Cato did anything wrong.

However, we ought not to do it often, for fear the mind should contract evil habits, though it ought sometimes to be forced into frolic and frankness, and to cast off dull sobriety for a while. If we believe the Greek poet, "it is sometimes pleasant to be mad”.

Again, Plato always knocked in vain at the door of poetry when he was sober; or, if we trust Aristotle, no great genius has ever been without a touch of insanity.

Stoicism has an unfortunate reputation for repressing emotion, and the Stoic is often perceived as a fellow incapable of enjoying himself. I can only think that such a misapprehension comes from people who enslave everything else to their passions, and who do not think that gratification should ever be moderated. They perhaps assume that if good judgment should rule, this must somehow negate feeling.

I, for one, have found myself grateful for Stoic thought during times of great struggle, and yet I have appreciated it just as much during times of quiet repose. Stoicism has not only helped me to give order to my thinking, but also to become profoundly grateful for the deepest of joys.

It seems to have this powerful effect on all aspects of my experience, where a change of estimation in my own mind also allows me to feel at ease with everything else around me. The balance in my emotions proceeds from the dignity of my thoughts; I feel better because I understand better.

This is especially difficult for someone who walks with the Black Dog, subject to a regular burden of doubt and despair, and yet I can still manage to appreciate the simplest of pleasures, and find beauty in the most mundane of things, when I consciously choose to recognize the meaning in Nature. It may only require taking a deep breath, or enjoying a good view, or going for a leisurely walk, or savoring a humble meal.

As someone who has desperately needed to heal his heart, I have found no better remedy than the Stoic prescription to clear up the inside of my own head. I’m not sure how I could ever feel any genuine pleasure at all, or be invigorated by rest and relaxation, if my thinking was still burdened with greed, resentment, or anxiety. By learning to let such things go, I also learn to take life at a serene and leisurely pace.

I am probably not the right person to talk about the healthy enjoyment of drink. If my head is screwed on right, and my mood happens to be amenable, there are few things I enjoy as much as a libation with a friend; I will actually find it helping me to be a better man.

But get those mental screws all misthreaded, and put some sourness into that mood, and then the booze, or any drug of any sort, will drag me into the pits of hell. Given my dispositions, it is usually best for me to abstain. I know exactly how terrible I am prone to become.

I suppose, however, that this makes perfect sense. Whatever is added from the outside will encourage and magnify whatever is already on the inside. Long story short, I recommend that a melancholic soul is best advised to avoid Liber, Bacchus, or Dionysius as close friends.

I misused too many of my critical years hanging about with nasty people, and I got myself hooked on all the habits that stifled my soul. Why did I assume that having fun required getting wasted? Just look at the language. No denial or escape is ever a cure for the burdens of life.

Instead, it is possible to just enjoy most every occasion, and drink deeply of anything that is given. Observe a star flickering or a bird singing. Watch a leaf fall or a trickle of water flowing. Cry because you see a new lamb being born or because you see an old ewe die.

Take the booze if it works for you, but who needs the booze when you have the buzz of Nature right at your doorstep?

There are all sorts of beautiful intoxicants in this life, and the best of them first require peace of mind to make them right. 

Written in 1/2012

The Wisdom of Solomon 6:21-25

[21] Therefore if you delight in thrones and scepters,
O monarchs over the peoples,
honor wisdom, that you may reign for ever.
[22] I will tell you what wisdom is and how she came to be,
and I will hide no secrets from you,
but I will trace her course from the beginning of creation,
and make knowledge of her clear,
and I will not pass by the truth;
[23] neither will I travel in the company of sickly envy,
for envy does not associate with wisdom.
[24] A multitude of wise men is the salvation of the world,
and a sensible king is the stability of his people.
[25] Therefore be instructed by my words, and you will profit. 

IMAGE: Frederick Ruckstuhl, Wisdom, Appellate Courthouse, New York (1900)

Seneca, On Peace of Mind 17.5

There is a great difference between slackening your hold of a thing and letting it go. The founders of our laws appointed festivals, in order that men might be publicly encouraged to be cheerful, and they thought it necessary to vary our labors with amusements, and, as I said before, some great men have been wont to give themselves a certain number of holidays in every month, and some divided every day into play-time and work-time.

Thus, I remember that great orator Asinius Pollio would not attend to any business after the tenth hour: he would not even read letters after that time for fear some new trouble should arise, but in those two hours used to get rid of the weariness which he had contracted during the whole day. Some rest in the middle of the day, and reserve some light occupation for the afternoon.

Our ancestors, too, forbade any new motion to be made in the Senate after the tenth hour. Soldiers divide their watches, and those who have just returned from active service are allowed to sleep the whole night undisturbed. We must humor our minds and grant them rest from time to time, which acts upon them like food, and restores their strength.

Some people tell me that if everyone lived as I suggest, then nothing would ever get done. I can only say that much would still get done, but it might not be quite the same balance of tasks we tend to do now, and we might not be as rushed and frantic as we are now.

There would probably be far less time and effort spent on things, and there would be far more time and effort spent on people. There might be fewer luxuries, but there would also be a greater appreciation of what constitutes an actual necessity.

These are usually the same people who laugh at me for having been a Boy Scout. “What the hell did any of that ever get you?” I usually offer them the Scout’s Law, still deeply ingrained in my memory:

A Scout is trustworthy, loyal, helpful, friendly, courteous, kind, obedient cheerful, thrifty, brave, clean, and reverent.

“So it makes you a nice guy. Great. What use is that?”

I try to calmly point out that it has absolutely no “use” beyond itself, that it is itself its own end, the formation of moral worth. Being that way is precisely what life is about.

They look at me with either confusion or disgust.

The Stoics list their cardinal virtues a bit differently, but the content is ultimately the same, and so it should come as little surprise that Stoic values are also met with confusion or disgust.

Perhaps we worry so much about constantly being busy in trade and industry because we are overlooking the proper business of life.

To do anything at all in a relaxed and leisurely way does not mean we are being lazy; it all depends on what we think is more or less important. I suppose if I wanted to acquire as much wealth and fame as possible, I probably would need to spend fifteen hours a day at the office, but if I wanted to work on primarily being a decent human being, would all of that tedium really be required?

In all the corners of this world I have stumbled into, the happiest people I have ever met are invariably the same people who manage to keep their priorities in order, with the externals in service to the internals.

They are glad to break a sweat, but they will not break their own backs lugging around useless weight. By understanding that life is to be lived instead of bought and sold, they are able to distinguish between what actually needs to be done and what can easily be let go. They know their professional “jobs” are a part of who they are, but not even close to all of who they are.

If my work is somehow in conflict with my leisure, I’m fairly certain I’m in the wrong line of work.

Written in 1/2012

The Art of Peace 60

  
If your opponent strikes with fire, counter with water, becoming completely fluid and free-flowing. 

Water, by its nature, never collides with or breaks against anything. On the contrary, it swallows up any attack harmlessly.

Fragments of Parmenides 15

Our judgment thereon depends on this: "Is it or is it not?" 

Surely it is adjudged, as it needs must be, that we are to set aside the one way as unthinkable and nameless, for it is no true way, and that the other path is real and true. 

Seneca, On Peace of Mind 17.4

Neither ought we always to keep the mind strained to the same pitch, but it ought sometimes to be relaxed by amusement.

Socrates did not blush to play with little boys, Cato used to refresh his mind with wine after he had wearied it with application to affairs of state, and Scipio would move his triumphal and soldierly limbs to the sound of music, not with a feeble and halting gait, as is the fashion nowadays, when we sway in our very walk with more than womanly weakness, but dancing as men were wont in the days of old on sportive and festal occasions, with manly bounds, thinking it no harm to be seen so doing even by their enemies.

Men's minds ought to have relaxation: they rise up better and more vigorous after rest. We must not force crops from rich fields, for an unbroken course of heavy crops will soon exhaust their fertility, and so also the liveliness of our minds will be destroyed by unceasing labor, but they will recover their strength after a short period of rest and relief: for continuous toil produces a sort of numbness and sluggishness.

Men would not be so eager for this, if play and amusement did not possess natural attractions for them, although constant indulgence in them takes away all gravity and all strength from the mind: for sleep, also, is necessary for our refreshment, yet if you prolong it for days and nights together it will become death.

Should I work harder, or should I play harder? Once again, we assume a false dichotomy here, and once again, we too often fail to consider such activities within the context of their proper ends.

Usually, when I am busy with a task, people will remind me to take a break, and yet when I am cooling off, they are telling me to put the nose back to the grindstone. I suppose the general idea is that we value productivity and efficiency above all else, shorthand for producing as little stuff as possible in order to consume as much stuff as possible, and so we need just enough leisure to inspire us to just enough labor.

The problem is that this reduces our human identity to that of little more than an economic machine, defined exclusively by external factors. And here I thought I was a homo sapiens, not a homo habilis.

Return back to the order of Nature, where happiness is not in the quantity of commodities but in the quality of character, and the picture changes. The balance between labor and rest then follows from what will best help me to live well, instead of what will make me the most profitable resource. The very measure of benefit and harm is transformed.

That same Stoic pattern expresses itself: any circumstances, and any sort of actions we choose in this life, are only as good as how fully they are in service to the good of the person.

What is this good of the person? It is hardly mysterious or elusive: let me attend to the dignity of my wisdom and virtue, and then let that inform every other aspect of my life. There I will find my happiness.

If my goal is limited to doing more just for the sake of doing more, I am caught in a frustrating, even agonizing, sort of rut. No wonder I will feel like Sisyphus.

If, on the other hand, I am doing for the sake of improving the content of my soul, I am beginning to catch a glimpse of liberation. The end is not somewhere out there, in the haze or over the horizon, but to be found right in here.

So, work or play? Yes. Both. Each will be necessary at certain times, and each will in turn invigorate the other. Each offers a means for improvement, and each will only make sense when it is aimed at a peace of mind.

At those moments when I have managed to do this right, I have also discovered something rather remarkable: I will no longer really distinguish between work and play, between effort and relaxation, because I find that I am joyful from simply doing the right things, satisfied from following nothing more than the calling of my nature.

Even the mightiest worldly achievements get tedious, and even the greatest pleasures get boring, but the fullness of my humanity is never exhausted. It can give and give of itself over and over, and it only becomes more bountiful. My awareness and love are greater than any other currency.

Written in 1/2012

The Deluge

J.M.W. Turner, Shade and Darkness—The Evening of the Deluge (c. 1843)

J.M.W. Turner, Light and Colour—The Morning After the Deluge (c. 1843)
 

Sayings of Heraclitus 34

Fools when they do hear are like the deaf: of them does the saying bear witness that they are absent when present. 

Seneca, On Peace of Mind 17.3

Moreover, we ought to retire a great deal into ourselves: for association with persons unlike ourselves upsets all that we had arranged, rouses the passions which were at rest, and rubs into a sore any weak or imperfectly healed place in our minds.

Nevertheless, we ought to mix up these two things, and to pass our lives alternately in solitude and among throngs of people; for the former will make us long for the society of mankind, the latter for that of ourselves, and the one will counteract the other.

Solitude will cure us when we are sick of crowds, and crowds will cure us when we are sick of solitude.

Only prudence can be my guide in finding a balance, in discovering the mean between too much and too little of anything. In order to avoid a downward spiral of relativism, where I frantically swing from one side to another based merely on the immediate feelings of the moment, I need a stable point of reference.

That measure must be the measure of my own nature, as an expression of the whole of Nature. Given a mind, I am made to be aware. Given a will, I am made to love; all the rest revolves around that. If I fulfill those callings from within myself, I am also doing my part in the service of all things. That is being at peace, and that is happiness.

By relying upon my own inner character, I can also view all external circumstances in their proper place, and I can consider them to be good or bad only by the standard of virtue.

Should I, for example, spend more time alone or with other people? I will know the answer to that question if I begin with the state of my own soul.

Will being in the presence of greedy and shifty folks encourage me to be a better or a worse man? Will being in the presence of caring and honest folks encourage me to be a better or a worse man?

Now the point isn’t whether the company I choose will make me richer, or more gratified, or more recognized. The simplicity of moral serenity is that it avoids all these distractions, and it does not confuse principles with preferences.

Wherever I can do my best, and however I can most fully exercise understanding, conviction, self-control, and justice, is what should guide me in exactly what I need to pursue.

Sometimes I will be called to be alone, and sometimes I will be called into the crowd. Each will serve its rightful purpose. The nurturing of a caring and healthy soul will be the constant.

Written in 1/2012

IMAGE: from The Crowd, dir. King Vidor (1928)

Vanity

Seneca, On Peace of Mind 17.2

But what pleasure there is in that honest straightforwardness which is its own ornament, and which conceals no part of its character? Yet even this life, which hides nothing from anyone runs some risk of being despised; for there are people who disdain whatever they come close to.

But there is no danger of virtue's becoming contemptible when she is brought near our eyes, and it is better to be scorned for one's simplicity than to bear the burden of unceasing hypocrisy.

Still, we must observe moderation in this matter, for there is a great difference between living simply and living slovenly.

The direct approach of attending to my own moral worth leads to serenity, since it asks for nothing beyond itself, and it is not weighed down by any of the anxiety that comes with manipulation.

Is it possible that others will think poorly of us for doing so? Most certainly, and my own experience suggests that it is not only possible, but it is also quite likely.

Those who reduce the world to a game for their own amusement don’t much appreciate it when you choose not to play their game.

There are also those who will feel insulted by your exposure of their own machinations and deceptions, even if you have not challenged them at all, but have simply chosen not to be anything like them.

Still others will become deeply uncomfortable in the face of integrity or compassion of any sort. It hits a sensitive nerve, exposing a part of themselves they have ignored and numbed for far too long; it painfully reminds them of who they really are.

I must then remember that the only good I can do for them is to continue on my path, not to ignore them, but to offer them an alternative to their own scheming. If I start throwing stones back at them, I have abandoned the very dignity of the simple and virtuous life.

I would rather be thought an idiot than to indulge in the false pride of posturing.

I must be careful, of course, not to let my sense of being carefree become its own form of false pride, where acceptance is confused with laziness, or indifference is twisted into thoughtlessness. It is one thing to keep my conscience free of diversions, and quite another thing to abandon my responsibilities. I’ve lost too many friends who started with a desire for a pure heart, only to end up doing little else than smoking pot and listening to Pink Floyd.

I will know the difference only by looking at myself with a brutal honesty, and by not making cheap excuses. I can let others be as they will be, while still holding firmly onto myself.

Written in 1/2012

Tidbits from Montaigne 16

I do not speak the minds of others except to speak my own mind better.

—Michel de Montaigne, Essays 1.26

Boethius, The Consolation of Philosophy 5.10

“Yet how absurd it is that we should say that the result of temporal affairs is the cause of eternal foreknowledge! And to think that God foresees future events because they are about to happen, is nothing else than to hold events of past time to be the cause of that highest Providence.

“Besides, just as, when I know a present fact, that fact must be so; so also when I know of something that will happen, that must come to pass. Thus, it follows that the fulfilment of a foreknown event must be inevitable.”

—from Book 5, Prose 3

Man is a creature granted reason and will, and yet it is in the very nature of these powers of judgment and free choice to permit him to use them well or to use them poorly.

A weakness I discern, both in myself and in others, is the tendency to put the cart before the horse, starting with preferred conclusions and then inserting favorable premises, instead of starting with true premises and proceeding to sound conclusions. If you are unsure of the prevalence of this problem, I ask you only to observe the state of politics and religion in public discourse.

Whenever I have taught Boethius, which I try to do whenever I can, some people will simply grow bored, because they don’t see how the questions are relevant to their immediate gratifications. In that sense, they have already determined what is most important to them, I suppose, even if they haven’t given it much thought.

For those who take up the challenge, however, there is still a further obstacle. Beginning only with what they already take for granted as an unquestionable orthodoxy, of whatever sort, they try to resolve the tension by stressing only one aspect of the whole.

If they already believe in a God, they gloss over the problem of free will by saying that it will happen however God wants it to happen.

If they already don’t believe in a God, they will gloss over the problem of Providence by saying that their own freedom makes it irrelevant.

And so the devout Catholic is tempted to look only one way, and the progressive existentialist is tempted to look only the other way, and both are building on a faith that is both comfortable and blind. They are sadly working backwards.

It is for this reason that I vividly remember when students have taken up the challenge with an open mind and a willing heart. One young lady put it wonderfully, and so I pass on her account:

I see how this isn’t just an abstract question, but also a deeply personal one.

In trying to make God bigger in our estimation, more necessary to us, it is too easy to make ourselves so small that we cease to have any significance. Therefore, we mistakenly think that because God matters, we don’t matter at all.

In trying to make ourselves bigger in our estimation, the center of the world, it is too easy to make God so small that He ceases to have any significance. Therefore, we mistakenly think that because we matter, God doesn’t matter at all.

If I’m going to make sense of all of it, and not just the bits I happen to like, only having certain assumptions isn’t going to be enough.

I think there is a perfectly good reason Boethius has saved this dilemma for last. Yes, it can be technically difficult, but it also gets straight to the core of how our being fits together with all of Being. It won’t do to brush it under the carpet with this or that popular ideology.

If I claim that God knows because we choose, then are we not just pulling God’s strings? And if I claim that we choose because God knows, isn’t God just pulling our strings?

I have overheard many good conversations in Texas and Oklahoma diners, most of them far more enlightening than any lecture at a fancy university. They can remarkably cover any topic under the sun, and they can become so ridiculous that they end up being profound.

On one day, a classically surly waitress was wearing a button on her shirt, which informed her customers that “God knows when you don’t tip!”

An equally iconic customer took up the challenge, enjoying every moment of it.

“Well, the way I see it, if he already knows, then I guess I’m gonna have to not give you a tip, because who am I to question the wisdom of the Lord?”

“Shut up, Jack, don’t you get all high and mighty with me!”

“Hey, you’re the one who brought God into it, not me!”

Good times, and also rather relevant points.

Written in 1/2016