The Death of Marcus Aurelius
Friday, July 7, 2023
Thursday, July 6, 2023
Leisure
"Leisure"
W.H. Davies (1871-1940)
What is this life if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare?—
No time to stand beneath the boughs,
And stare as long as sheep and cows:
No time to see, when woods we pass,
Where squirrels hide their nuts in grass:
No time to see, in broad daylight,
Streams full of stars, like skies at night:
No time to turn at Beauty's glance,
And watch her feet, how they can dance:
No time to wait till her mouth can
Enrich that smile her eyes began?
A poor life this if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare.
The World Is Too Much with Us
"The World Is Too Much with Us"
William Wordsworth (1770-1850)
The world is too much with us; late and soon,
Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers;—
Little we see in Nature that is ours;
We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon!
This Sea that bares her bosom to the moon;
The winds that will be howling at all hours,
And are up-gathered now like sleeping flowers;
For this, for everything, we are out of tune;
It moves us not. Great God! I’d rather be
A Pagan suckled in a creed outworn;
So might I, standing on this pleasant lea,
Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn;
Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea;
Or hear old Triton blow his wreathèd horn.
IMAGE: Jacob de Gheyn III, Triton Blowing on a Conch Shell (c. 1615)
_-_Triton_-_ca.1615.jpg)
Howard Jones, Dream into Action 3
In the 1980's, it was still fairly common for the record labels to release different versions of albums for different markets, sometimes resulting in quite distinct "products". Accordingly, this was also a golden age for the import collectors, and I particularly remember UK copies selling in the USA for ridiculous prices. Globalization had not yet fully set in!
Other artists received far more radical makeovers to help them sell in certain regions, but even Howard Jones got a dose of the treatment on his second album. The title and the cover art remained the same, though the suits couldn't help changing the listing and the order of the tracks.
Track three was "Dream into Action" in the UK, but "No One Is to Blame" in the USA. It was clear that the latter, a slower ballad, was being eyed for success in America, but more on that later . . .
"Dream into Action" was, in contrast, a more "traditional" Jones composition, complete with industrial clanging noises and an upbeat message about living in harmony. I didn't pay it terribly much attention at first, and yet I can now, many years later, say that it has rather sneakily played a huge part in forming my own attitudes about the many unfortunate divisions in human life.
I have come to call it tribalism, or the love of any sort of –ism, where we feel better about ourselves when we choose to find someone else to hate. There is usually little thought involved in the matter, and it tends to derive from envy and resentment. Learn to tame that desire with understanding, and you in turn learn to overcome the division.
Stop imagining it. Start doing it.
Thanks to folks like Mr. Jones, I am no longer ashamed to proudly proclaim the essential unity of the human condition. I may now quote Marcus Aurelius about our "social nature", but it was Jones who gave me that first push. Thank you. It means people laugh at me quite often, and I am then able to smile in return.
—5/2007
A few words of commentary from Howard Jones:
And the song itself:
Howard Jones, "Dream into Action" from Dream into Action (1985)
Nobody ever seems to get it right
Even between friends there is a long gap
One of them makes a mistake, there is a fight
Whatever you do you have the benefit of the doubt
Whatever I do please understand
Whatever we do let's make a pledge to put it right
So we can end the rule of the division
Putting the dream into action, into action
Putting the dream into action, into action
Whatever you like to do then let that be my pleasure
Whatever you like to say I'll try to understand
Whatever I do please understand
Whatever we do let's make a pledge to put it right
So we can end the rule of the division
Putting the dream into action, into action
Putting the dream into action, into action
Whatever you like to do then let that be my pleasure
Whatever you like to say I'll try to understand
Whatever you do you have the benefit of the doubt
Whatever I do please understand
Whatever we do let's make a pledge to put it right
So we can end the rule of the division
Putting the dream into action into action
You are strong
We are strong
You feel it
We feel it
You are strong
We are strong
You are action
Putting the dream into action . . .
Wednesday, July 5, 2023
Maxims of Goethe 15
From time to time I meet with a youth in whom I can wish for no alteration or improvement, only I am sorry to see how often his nature makes him quite ready to swim with the stream of the time; and it is on this that I would always insist, that man in his fragile boat has the rudder placed in his hand, just that he may not be at the mercy of the waves, but follow the direction of his own insight.
IMAGE: Winslow Homer, Breezing Up (A Fair Wind) (1876)
_-_Google_Art_Project.jpg)
Seneca, Moral Letters 51.7
Those also into whose hands the rising fortunes of Rome first transferred the wealth of the state, Gaius Marius, Gnaeus Pompey, and Caesar, did indeed build villas near Baiae; but they set them on the very tops of the mountains.
This seemed more soldier-like, to look down from a lofty height upon lands spread far and wide below.
Note the situation, position, and type of building which they chose; you will see that they were not country-places—they were camps.
This seemed more soldier-like, to look down from a lofty height upon lands spread far and wide below.
Note the situation, position, and type of building which they chose; you will see that they were not country-places—they were camps.
—from Seneca, Moral Letters 51
Such a stress on a life of austerity and restraint can easily mislead me into thinking that being rich is itself somehow contrary to the good life, when what it really means is that an inordinate attachment to being rich is the obstacle. Whether I happen to own very much or very little, the deciding factor will be in how I put to use the tools made available to me.
Will I permit luxury to make me feeble, or will my resistance to its charms allow me to prove my mettle? Though they can be hard to find, I know wealthy people who still choose to live frugally, and I also known too many poor people who try to live far beyond their means. The difference is in an attitude, and the formation of habits that can fortify temperance.
While the capitalist would like us to believe that the rich are the heroes, and the socialist accuses them of being the villains, both of them are mistaken, because they are starting from a misguided measure of worth—social class should not be confused with moral character.
It only makes sense that greater responsibilities will often bring with them greater possessions, even as we sadly get confused about the sort of work that is the most important, and therefore the most deserving. If I have a concern about a Marius, a Pompey, or a Caesar, it shouldn’t be that they were too wealthy, it should be that they were too prideful.
And Seneca, himself a rich man who understood very well the dangers of riches, is at least willing to give them credit for building their villas more like utilitarian barracks than decadent mansions. Clearly not all expense is necessarily a form of extravagance.
I recall two families I knew as a child who had huge houses, and they were as different from one another as you could imagine. The first were raising a whole herd of children, while the second were clearly keen on showing off. We were encouraged to slide down the winding banister in the one home, and forbidden from sitting on the couches in the other.
A life of simplicity does not require poverty, but I suspect it takes a man better than myself to manage his riches with reserve.
—Reflection written in 4/2013
IMAGE: Jean-Achille Benouville, View of a Roman Villa (c. 1844)
Tuesday, July 4, 2023
Delphic Maxims 26
Ἐπαίνει ἀρετήν
Praise virtue
IMAGE: Godfried Schalcken, Allegory of Virtue and Riches (c. 1667)
Xenophon, Memorabilia of Socrates 23
Let us here turn and consider whether by deterring his associates from quackery and false seeming Socrates did not directly stimulate them to the pursuit of virtue.
He used often to say there was no better road to renown than the one by which a man became good at that wherein he desired to be reputed good. The truth of the concept he enforced as follows:
"Let us reflect on what a man would be driven to do who wanted to be thought a good flute player, without really being so. He would be forced to imitate the good flute player in the externals of his art, would he not?
"And first or all, seeing that these artists always have a splendid equipment, and travel about with a long train of attendants, he must have the same; in the next place, they can command the plaudits of a multitude, he therefore must pack a conclave of clackers.
"But one thing is clear: nothing must induce him to give a performance, or he will be exposed at once, and find himself a laughing-stock not only as a sorry sort of flute player, but as a wretched imposter.
"And now he has a host of expenses to meet; and not one advantage to be reaped; and worse than all his evil reputation. What is left him but to lead a life stale and unprofitable, the scorn and mockery of men?
"Let us try another case. Suppose a man wished to be thought a good general or a good pilot, though he were really nothing of the sort, let us picture to our minds how it will fare with him.
"Of two misfortunes one: either with a strong desire to be thought proficient in these matters, he will fail to get others to agree with him, which will be bad enough; or he will succeed, with worse result; since it stands to reason that anyone appointed to work a vessel or lead an army without the requisite knowledge will speedily ruin a number of people whom he least desires to hurt, and will make but a sorry exit from the stage himself."
Thus first by one instance and then another would he demonstrate the unprofitableness of trying to appear rich, or courageous, or strong, without really being the thing pretended.
"You are sure sooner or later to have commands laid upon you beyond your power to execute, and failing just where you are credited with capacity, the world will give you no commiseration."
"I call that man a cheat, and a great cheat too," he would say, "who gets money or goods out of some one by persuasion, and defrauds him; but of all imposters he surely is the biggest who can delude people into thinking that he is fit to lead the state, when all the while he is a worthless creature."
—from Xenophon, Memorabilia 1.7
IMAGE: Who remembers Milli Vanilli?
Seneca, Moral Letters 51.6
Therefore, a man occupied with such reflections should choose an austere and pure dwelling-place. The spirit is weakened by surroundings that are too pleasant, and without a doubt one's place of residence can contribute towards impairing its vigor
Animals whose hoofs are hardened on rough ground can travel any road; but when they are fattened on soft marshy meadows their hoofs are soon worn out.
The bravest soldier comes from rock-ribbed regions; but the town-bred and the home-bred are sluggish in action.
The hand which turns from the plough to the sword never objects to toil; but your sleek and well-dressed dandy quails at the first cloud of dust.
Being trained in a rugged country strengthens the character and fits it for great undertakings. It was more honorable in Scipio to spend his exile at Liternum than at Baiae; his downfall did not need a setting so effeminate.
Animals whose hoofs are hardened on rough ground can travel any road; but when they are fattened on soft marshy meadows their hoofs are soon worn out.
The bravest soldier comes from rock-ribbed regions; but the town-bred and the home-bred are sluggish in action.
The hand which turns from the plough to the sword never objects to toil; but your sleek and well-dressed dandy quails at the first cloud of dust.
Being trained in a rugged country strengthens the character and fits it for great undertakings. It was more honorable in Scipio to spend his exile at Liternum than at Baiae; his downfall did not need a setting so effeminate.
—from Seneca, Moral Letters 51
I am, as my mother liked to say, a “sensitive soul”, so I don’t have much patience for the bluster of men who hide their insecurities behind a display of toughness. There is no virtue in bragging about how much weight I claim to lift, and certainly not in the horsepower under the hood of my car.
I find strength not in doing something extraordinary, designed only to impress, but rather in doing something quite common, intended as an exercise in humble decency. Once I feel the need to draw attention to myself, I’m afraid I’m doing it all wrong.
For my own purposes, therefore, I prefer to stress the simplicity and reliability of my actions, over any pretensions of glory or might. While you may be comfortable with more heroic language, I wish to avoid turning my Stoic self-reliance into an oafish pissing contest.
It is in this light that I am happy to follow Seneca’s advice on austerity and restraint—just please don’t ask me to grunt and spit while I’m trying to improve myself.
I worry so much about how the pain will hinder me, while forgetting how easily the pleasure can also hinder me. Give me too much luxury, and I am inclined to become weak in spirit; rouse me with a touch of hardship, and I am granted an opportunity to hone my constancy. When asked to manage with less, I am challenged to stand for myself all the more.
I’m certain my tomcat Jack is such a noble beast precisely because he has had it so rough. He is a better friend than any of the egghead fops who wax their mustaches.
I tend to be more trusting of a man who has toiled than a man who sits behind a desk, which is a part of the reason I feel so ashamed when they give me an office.
Scipio did much better for himself by retiring to a small town than continuing to rub shoulders with the rich and famous of Rome.
Do I think that that the Hamptons or the Riviera would be a blessing? Getting up at the crack of dawn to milk the cows or chop firewood is the more prudent choice. Soft living breeds a soft conscience.
I am, as my mother liked to say, a “sensitive soul”, so I don’t have much patience for the bluster of men who hide their insecurities behind a display of toughness. There is no virtue in bragging about how much weight I claim to lift, and certainly not in the horsepower under the hood of my car.
I find strength not in doing something extraordinary, designed only to impress, but rather in doing something quite common, intended as an exercise in humble decency. Once I feel the need to draw attention to myself, I’m afraid I’m doing it all wrong.
For my own purposes, therefore, I prefer to stress the simplicity and reliability of my actions, over any pretensions of glory or might. While you may be comfortable with more heroic language, I wish to avoid turning my Stoic self-reliance into an oafish pissing contest.
It is in this light that I am happy to follow Seneca’s advice on austerity and restraint—just please don’t ask me to grunt and spit while I’m trying to improve myself.
I worry so much about how the pain will hinder me, while forgetting how easily the pleasure can also hinder me. Give me too much luxury, and I am inclined to become weak in spirit; rouse me with a touch of hardship, and I am granted an opportunity to hone my constancy. When asked to manage with less, I am challenged to stand for myself all the more.
I’m certain my tomcat Jack is such a noble beast precisely because he has had it so rough. He is a better friend than any of the egghead fops who wax their mustaches.
I tend to be more trusting of a man who has toiled than a man who sits behind a desk, which is a part of the reason I feel so ashamed when they give me an office.
Scipio did much better for himself by retiring to a small town than continuing to rub shoulders with the rich and famous of Rome.
Do I think that that the Hamptons or the Riviera would be a blessing? Getting up at the crack of dawn to milk the cows or chop firewood is the more prudent choice. Soft living breeds a soft conscience.
—Reflection written in 4/2013
Monday, July 3, 2023
Sayings of Ramakrishna 214
The heavier scale of a balance goes down while the lighter one rises up.
Similarly he who is weighed down with too many cares and anxieties of the world, goes down to the world, while he who has less cares rises up towards the Kingdom of Heaven.
The Wisdom of Solomon 18:1-4
[1] But for your holy ones there was very great light.
Their enemies heard their voices but did not see their forms,
and counted them happy for not having suffered,
[2] and were thankful that your holy ones, though
previously wronged, were doing them no injury;
and they begged their pardon for having been
at variance with them.
[3] Therefore you did provide a flaming pillar of fire
as a guide for your people's unknown journey,
and a harmless sun for their glorious wandering.
[4] For their enemies deserved to be deprived of
light and imprisoned in darkness,
those who had kept your sons imprisoned,
through whom the imperishable light of the
law was to be given to the world.
Their enemies heard their voices but did not see their forms,
and counted them happy for not having suffered,
[2] and were thankful that your holy ones, though
previously wronged, were doing them no injury;
and they begged their pardon for having been
at variance with them.
[3] Therefore you did provide a flaming pillar of fire
as a guide for your people's unknown journey,
and a harmless sun for their glorious wandering.
[4] For their enemies deserved to be deprived of
light and imprisoned in darkness,
those who had kept your sons imprisoned,
through whom the imperishable light of the
law was to be given to the world.
IMAGE: William West, The Israelites Led by the Pillar of Fire by Night (c. 1845)
Seneca, Moral Letters 51.5
The soul is not to be pampered; surrendering to pleasure means also surrendering to pain, surrendering to toil, surrendering to poverty.
Both ambition and anger will wish to have the same rights over me as pleasure, and I shall be torn asunder, or rather pulled to pieces, amid all these conflicting passions.
I have set freedom before my eyes; and I am striving for that reward. And what is freedom, you ask? It means not being a slave to any circumstance, to any constraint, to any chance; it means compelling Fortune to enter the lists on equal terms.
And on the day when I know that I have the upper hand, her power will be naught. When I have death in my own control, shall I take orders from her?
Both ambition and anger will wish to have the same rights over me as pleasure, and I shall be torn asunder, or rather pulled to pieces, amid all these conflicting passions.
I have set freedom before my eyes; and I am striving for that reward. And what is freedom, you ask? It means not being a slave to any circumstance, to any constraint, to any chance; it means compelling Fortune to enter the lists on equal terms.
And on the day when I know that I have the upper hand, her power will be naught. When I have death in my own control, shall I take orders from her?
—from Seneca, Moral Letters 51
Just as the fool paradoxically seeks to be free by enslaving himself to what is outside of his control, so he also believes that he can submit to one passion while avoiding any of the others. He wishes to pick and choose, to have it both ways, oblivious to the fact that once the door is opened to pleasure, it will inevitably be accompanied by pain. He laughs at one moment, and then suddenly weeps at the next.
As soon as I crave gratification above all else, I am setting myself up for disappointment, and so I will then be further consumed by anger and envy. Before I know it, my head and my heart are being led around by my gut, and I am left with the constant anxiety of shifting and conflicting emotions.
The whole mess can be avoided by placing my impressions in the service of my judgments, and thereby taming the appetites with the counsel of the virtues. One of the great insights of the Stoic Turn is the discovery of how the best feelings proceed from the best actions.
Fortune makes many promises about what we might “get”, and the way to resist her wiles is to remember why life is never about “getting” anything at all. Once I realize she has nothing I need, I have begun to approach true liberty, where neither an enticement nor a threat can compromise my inner worth.
You say I can have luxury, or influence, or fame? What does that have to do with me? I know my purpose, and I am able to distinguish my principles from my preferences.
You say you will leave me poor and forgotten? However unpleasant, these do not diminish my excellence as a man, so I will bear them with dignity.
Death? I will not fear it, if I know what life is about.
Just as the fool paradoxically seeks to be free by enslaving himself to what is outside of his control, so he also believes that he can submit to one passion while avoiding any of the others. He wishes to pick and choose, to have it both ways, oblivious to the fact that once the door is opened to pleasure, it will inevitably be accompanied by pain. He laughs at one moment, and then suddenly weeps at the next.
As soon as I crave gratification above all else, I am setting myself up for disappointment, and so I will then be further consumed by anger and envy. Before I know it, my head and my heart are being led around by my gut, and I am left with the constant anxiety of shifting and conflicting emotions.
The whole mess can be avoided by placing my impressions in the service of my judgments, and thereby taming the appetites with the counsel of the virtues. One of the great insights of the Stoic Turn is the discovery of how the best feelings proceed from the best actions.
Fortune makes many promises about what we might “get”, and the way to resist her wiles is to remember why life is never about “getting” anything at all. Once I realize she has nothing I need, I have begun to approach true liberty, where neither an enticement nor a threat can compromise my inner worth.
You say I can have luxury, or influence, or fame? What does that have to do with me? I know my purpose, and I am able to distinguish my principles from my preferences.
You say you will leave me poor and forgotten? However unpleasant, these do not diminish my excellence as a man, so I will bear them with dignity.
Death? I will not fear it, if I know what life is about.
—Reflection written in 4/2013
IMAGE: Titian, Cupid with the Wheel of Time (Love, Fortune, and Death) (c. 1520)
Sunday, July 2, 2023
Stoic Snippets 202
All things are the same, familiar in experience, and ephemeral in time, and worthless in the matter.
Everything now is just as it was in the time of those whom we have buried.
—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 9.14
IMAGES:
Giovanni Paolo Panini, Gallery of Views of Ancient Rome (1758)
Giovanni Paolo Panini, Gallery of Views of Modern Rome (1759)
The Art of Peace 99
To truly implement the Art of Peace, you must be able to sport freely in the manifest, hidden, and divine realms.
IMAGE: August Piepenhagen, The Wanderer (1826)
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Seneca, Moral Letters 51.4
Suppose we do what Hannibal did—check the course of events, give up the war, and give over our bodies to be coddled. Everyone would rightly blame us for our untimely sloth, a thing fraught with peril even for the victor, to say nothing of one who is only on the way to victory.
And we have even less right to do this than those followers of the Carthaginian flag; for our danger is greater than theirs if we slacken, and our toil is greater than theirs even if we press ahead.
Fortune is fighting against me, and I shall not carry out her commands. I refuse to submit to the yoke; nay rather, I shake off the yoke that is upon me—an act which demands even greater courage.
And we have even less right to do this than those followers of the Carthaginian flag; for our danger is greater than theirs if we slacken, and our toil is greater than theirs even if we press ahead.
Fortune is fighting against me, and I shall not carry out her commands. I refuse to submit to the yoke; nay rather, I shake off the yoke that is upon me—an act which demands even greater courage.
—from Seneca, Moral Letters 51
We are quick to accuse a worker of being lazy, or a solider of being a coward, and the old are especially fond of complaining how the young are pampered. Now making money matters, and war matters, and the rules of discipline matter, but none if it amounts to a hill of beans compared to the responsibility of standing up for our very humanity. Once I surrender my integrity, I have already abandoned everything else.
Where more can be gained, more can also be lost; with greater rewards come greater risks. If they take away my job, I will be on the street, and if I fall in battle, I will lose my body, and worst of all, if I compromise my conscience, I will surrender my soul.
At stake is who I choose to be, far more important than what could possibly happen to me. And that is why the work is so much harder and the vocation so much nobler. It would be nice if we could give as many parades for those who attend to their values as we do for those who flaunt their good fortune.
And what we usually call success or achievement really is just a matter of luck, isn’t it? We make the mistake of assuming that the merit is in the circumstances, yet those are largely beyond our power. What is truly within our power, the capacity for virtue, gets overlooked in favor of conditions that have little to do with us. The essential is confused with the accidental.
Most of the people I know are constantly struggling to beat Fortune at her own game, failing to recognize the inherent contradiction in claiming that our happiness should be defined by what isn’t rightfully our own to begin with. Other people will make their own choices, and events will unfold in their own way, so nothing could make us more miserable than betting everything on a roll of the dice.
This is why I take Seneca’s exhortation so seriously. Instead of trying to make deals with Fortune, I refuse to accept any of her terms whatsoever; once I have given her an inch, she will immediately take a mile. The victory is in having the conviction to rise above her whims.
We are quick to accuse a worker of being lazy, or a solider of being a coward, and the old are especially fond of complaining how the young are pampered. Now making money matters, and war matters, and the rules of discipline matter, but none if it amounts to a hill of beans compared to the responsibility of standing up for our very humanity. Once I surrender my integrity, I have already abandoned everything else.
Where more can be gained, more can also be lost; with greater rewards come greater risks. If they take away my job, I will be on the street, and if I fall in battle, I will lose my body, and worst of all, if I compromise my conscience, I will surrender my soul.
At stake is who I choose to be, far more important than what could possibly happen to me. And that is why the work is so much harder and the vocation so much nobler. It would be nice if we could give as many parades for those who attend to their values as we do for those who flaunt their good fortune.
And what we usually call success or achievement really is just a matter of luck, isn’t it? We make the mistake of assuming that the merit is in the circumstances, yet those are largely beyond our power. What is truly within our power, the capacity for virtue, gets overlooked in favor of conditions that have little to do with us. The essential is confused with the accidental.
Most of the people I know are constantly struggling to beat Fortune at her own game, failing to recognize the inherent contradiction in claiming that our happiness should be defined by what isn’t rightfully our own to begin with. Other people will make their own choices, and events will unfold in their own way, so nothing could make us more miserable than betting everything on a roll of the dice.
This is why I take Seneca’s exhortation so seriously. Instead of trying to make deals with Fortune, I refuse to accept any of her terms whatsoever; once I have given her an inch, she will immediately take a mile. The victory is in having the conviction to rise above her whims.
—Reflection written in 4/2013
IMAGE: Frans Francken the Younger, Allegory of Fortune (c. 1620)
_-_Allegory_of_Fortune_(_Fortuna_Marina).jpg)
Saturday, July 1, 2023
The Universal Prayer
"The Universal Prayer"
Alexander Pope (1688-1744)
Deo Optimo Maximo
Father of all! in every age,
In every clime adored,
By saint, by savage, and by sage,
Jehovah, Jove, or Lord!
Thou Great First Cause, least understood,
Who all my sense confined
To know but this, that Thou art good,
And that myself am blind;
Yet gave me, in this dark estate,
To see the good from ill;
And binding Nature fast in fate,
Left free the human will.
What conscience dictates to be done,
Or warns me not to do,
This, teach me more than Hell to shun,
That, more than Heaven pursue.
What blessings Thy free bounty gives,
Let me not cast away;
For God is paid when man receives,
To enjoy is to obey.
Yet not to earth’s contracted span
Thy goodness let me bound,
Or think Thee Lord alone of man,
When thousand worlds are round:
Let not this weak, unknowing hand
Presume Thy bolts to throw,
And deal damnation round the land,
On each I judge Thy foe.
If I am right, Thy grace impart,
Still in the right to stay;
If I am wrong, oh, teach my heart
To find that better way.
Save me alike from foolish pride,
Or impious discontent,
At aught Thy wisdom has denied,
Or aught Thy goodness lent.
Teach me to feel another’s woe,
To hide the fault I see;
That mercy I to others show,
That mercy show to me.
Mean though I am, not wholly so,
Since quickened by Thy breath;
Oh, lead me wheresoe’er I go,
Through this day’s life or death.
This day, be bread and peace my lot:
All else beneath the sun,
Thou know’st if best bestowed or not;
And let Thy will be done.
To Thee, whose temple is all space,
Whose altar earth, sea, skies,
One chorus let all being raise,
All Nature’s incense rise!
IMAGE: Michael Dahl, Alexander Pope (c. 1727)
Sayings of Heraclitus 72
The waking have one common world, but the sleeping turn aside each into a world of his own.
IMAGE: Henri Rousseau, The Dream (1910)
Dhammapada 322, 323
Mules are good, if tamed, and noble Sindhu horses, and elephants with large tusks; but he who tames himself is better still.
For with these animals does no man reach the untrodden country of Nirvana, where a tamed man goes on a tamed animal, namely on his own well-tamed self.
IMAGE: Festus and Ruth, from Gunsmoke. A good man with a good mule.
Seneca, Moral Letters 51.3
A single winter relaxed Hannibal's fiber; his pampering in Campania took the vigor out of that hero who had triumphed over Alpine snows. He conquered with his weapons, but was conquered by his vices.
We too have a war to wage, a type of warfare in which there is allowed no rest or furlough. To be conquered, in the first place, are pleasures, which, as you see, have carried off even the sternest characters.
If a man has once understood how great is the task which he has entered upon, he will see that there must be no dainty or effeminate conduct. What have I to do with those hot baths or with the sweating-room where they shut in the dry steam which is to drain your strength? Perspiration should flow only after toil.
We too have a war to wage, a type of warfare in which there is allowed no rest or furlough. To be conquered, in the first place, are pleasures, which, as you see, have carried off even the sternest characters.
If a man has once understood how great is the task which he has entered upon, he will see that there must be no dainty or effeminate conduct. What have I to do with those hot baths or with the sweating-room where they shut in the dry steam which is to drain your strength? Perspiration should flow only after toil.
—from Seneca, Moral Letters 51
I was fascinated by the story of Hannibal from a very young age; one of the first “chapter books” I read was an account of his life, which I all but memorized from the many times I checked it out of the school library. I have, however, foolishly forgotten the author’s name, so I regret I could not find a copy for my son.
I am hardly an expert on the Punic Wars, therefore I don’t really know what to say about Seneca’s explanation for Hannibal’s ultimate loss in Italy. Whether there is some truth to it, or it is merely a Roman legend, it can stand for the deeper realization that all failure, rightly understood as an internal surrender, has its root in a weakness of character.
And what has tripped me up more often than my attachment to gratification? I am encouraged to know that far better men than myself have faced the very same challenge, and duly warned by how some have sadly succumbed. I would like to blame everyone else for my problems, and yet deep down inside I know how my own concupiscence was my undoing.
It isn’t a popular thing to say in a culture that glorifies mindless pleasure, but allowing myself to be surrounded by luxuries has usually ended with me being spoiled rotten. As the alcoholic probably shouldn’t keep a bottle in the house, I am well advised to avoid the temptation of indulgence. Someone of incredible virtues can brush it all off with indifference, though I’m not quite there yet.
The real war is going on in my heart and mind, and peace can only come from bringing my passions into harmony with my reason. As much as we praise a victor on the battlefield, the true hero is the one who is brave enough, and wise enough, to conquer himself.
While some men brag because they are so strong in body, the real man has strength precisely because he has tempered the very callings of the flesh. The power of his conscience permits him to walk away from extravagance, and to thereby elevate himself from lust to love.
I was fascinated by the story of Hannibal from a very young age; one of the first “chapter books” I read was an account of his life, which I all but memorized from the many times I checked it out of the school library. I have, however, foolishly forgotten the author’s name, so I regret I could not find a copy for my son.
I am hardly an expert on the Punic Wars, therefore I don’t really know what to say about Seneca’s explanation for Hannibal’s ultimate loss in Italy. Whether there is some truth to it, or it is merely a Roman legend, it can stand for the deeper realization that all failure, rightly understood as an internal surrender, has its root in a weakness of character.
And what has tripped me up more often than my attachment to gratification? I am encouraged to know that far better men than myself have faced the very same challenge, and duly warned by how some have sadly succumbed. I would like to blame everyone else for my problems, and yet deep down inside I know how my own concupiscence was my undoing.
It isn’t a popular thing to say in a culture that glorifies mindless pleasure, but allowing myself to be surrounded by luxuries has usually ended with me being spoiled rotten. As the alcoholic probably shouldn’t keep a bottle in the house, I am well advised to avoid the temptation of indulgence. Someone of incredible virtues can brush it all off with indifference, though I’m not quite there yet.
The real war is going on in my heart and mind, and peace can only come from bringing my passions into harmony with my reason. As much as we praise a victor on the battlefield, the true hero is the one who is brave enough, and wise enough, to conquer himself.
While some men brag because they are so strong in body, the real man has strength precisely because he has tempered the very callings of the flesh. The power of his conscience permits him to walk away from extravagance, and to thereby elevate himself from lust to love.
—Reflection written in 4/2013
IMAGE: J.M.W. Turner, Hannibal and His Men Crossing the Alps (c. 1812)
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