The Death of Marcus Aurelius
Monday, July 17, 2023
Ellis Walker, Epictetus in Poetical Paraphrase 42
XLII.
Laughter, if rightly us'd, may be confest
In some sort to distinguish man from beast,
While by due management it is allay'd,
While the strict rules of reason are obey'd;
But shews, if over-loud, or over-long,
Your head but weak, altho' your lungs be strong,
For ev'n a smile, not in its proper place,
Too just a blemish on your judgment lays:
But causeless laughter at each thing you see,
That grinning of the thoughtless mobile;
That senseless gaping mirth, that is exprest,
Without the provocation of a jest;
That wild convulsive writhing of the face,
That quite disfigures it from what it was,
Doth with humanity so little suit,
It makes you but a different sort of brute.
In some sort to distinguish man from beast,
While by due management it is allay'd,
While the strict rules of reason are obey'd;
But shews, if over-loud, or over-long,
Your head but weak, altho' your lungs be strong,
For ev'n a smile, not in its proper place,
Too just a blemish on your judgment lays:
But causeless laughter at each thing you see,
That grinning of the thoughtless mobile;
That senseless gaping mirth, that is exprest,
Without the provocation of a jest;
That wild convulsive writhing of the face,
That quite disfigures it from what it was,
Doth with humanity so little suit,
It makes you but a different sort of brute.
Sunday, July 16, 2023
William Hogarth, A Rake's Progress 1
In case anyone is still thinking that Hogarth was some horrible misogynist, observe how readily he draws attention to the rake as well as to the harlot. While the sexes have their peculiar strengths and weaknesses, the struggle between virtue and vice is a universal human condition.
The paintings for A Harlot's Progress were lost in a fire, but those for A Rake's Progress survive, and so the lover of detail can make comparisons with the engravings.
Upon the death of his merchant father, Tom Rakewell finally inherits his fortune. As he is being fitted for a new suit, he dismisses his pregnant fiancée, Sarah Young. Clearly he believes there are now greater things in store. She weeps as she hold his ring, and her angry mother displays his many love letters, but to no avail. Tom is going places!
The room is packed with references to the dangers of loving money. The estate's administrator is already stealing from Tom's bag of coins. The coat of arms over the door has three vises together with the motto "Beware". The portrait of the father over the mantle shows him busy counting his cash.
The rich often acquire their wealth through greed, and so it is hardly surprising that the father was also a miser. A servant uncovers a hidden stash of coins while decorating the house for mourning, The poor cat has not been fed. A roasting spit has been locked away in the closet, indicating that the master did not spend on entertaining guests.
In the engraved version, an account book reveals that the father meticuluously recorded getting rid of a bad shilling, and it appears the old man used the leather from a Bible to resole his shoe. I would laugh at the whole scene if I didn't know so many people who are sadly very much like this.
My immediate instinct is to have far less sympathy for Tom than I do for Moll, and yet they are both equally victims of society's deceptions.
Seneca, Moral Letters 52.4
You may be sure that this refractory nature, which demands much toil, has been implanted in us. There are obstacles in our path; so let us fight, and call to our assistance some helpers.
"Whom," you say, "shall I call upon? Shall it be this man or that?"
There is another choice also open to you; you may go to the ancients; for they have the time to help you. We can get assistance not only from the living, but from those of the past.
Let us choose, however, from among the living, not men who pour forth their words with the greatest glibness, turning out commonplaces and holding. as it were, their own little private exhibitions—not these, I say, but men who teach us by their lives, men who tell us what we ought to do and then prove it by practice, who show us what we should avoid, and then are never caught doing that which they have ordered us to avoid.
Choose as a guide one whom you will admire more when you see him act than when you hear him speak. Of course, I would not prevent you from listening also to those philosophers who are wont to hold public meetings and discussions, provided they appear before the people for the express purpose of improving themselves and others, and do not practice their profession for the sake of self-seeking.
"Whom," you say, "shall I call upon? Shall it be this man or that?"
There is another choice also open to you; you may go to the ancients; for they have the time to help you. We can get assistance not only from the living, but from those of the past.
Let us choose, however, from among the living, not men who pour forth their words with the greatest glibness, turning out commonplaces and holding. as it were, their own little private exhibitions—not these, I say, but men who teach us by their lives, men who tell us what we ought to do and then prove it by practice, who show us what we should avoid, and then are never caught doing that which they have ordered us to avoid.
Choose as a guide one whom you will admire more when you see him act than when you hear him speak. Of course, I would not prevent you from listening also to those philosophers who are wont to hold public meetings and discussions, provided they appear before the people for the express purpose of improving themselves and others, and do not practice their profession for the sake of self-seeking.
—from Seneca, Moral Letters 52
If I know I am not up to the task on my own, who can I turn to for aid in taming my stubbornness?
I forget far too readily that there are so many good people in this world, and that it is ultimately the content of character that makes for the best teachers. I run into trouble finding them, however, because I am more interested in the style than in the substance, and so I am lured in by all the wrong qualities. I need to look with different eyes; decent folks don’t feel the need to market themselves.
If I am still having difficulty, I should not neglect appealing to those from the past. In the current fashion of progress, it is assumed that newer is always better, when I should only be concerned with better being better, regardless of the time or the place. Wisdom is perennial, and it tends to have a patina instead of being shiny.
The example of a dead philosopher can help me to then recognize the excellence of a living one, and thus I learn to respect principled actions over fanciful words. What the celebrities have in common should be obvious from the very name we give them, for they are concerned with putting on a show and thereby winning acclaim.
Do not be deceived into thinking that the brooding academics or the edgy poets are necessarily worthier than the slick politicians or the garish rock stars, for they too are trying to sell you an image. If you doubt this, look only to the way they speak of righteousness but then chase after fortune and fame.
If I want to become faithful and temperate, I should not sit at the feet of adulterers and drunkards. While the talking is all well and good, the meat of the matter is in the doing.
—Reflection written in 4/2013
IMAGE: Jusepe de Ribera, A Philosopher (c. 1630)
Saturday, July 15, 2023
James Vila Blake, Sonnets from Marcus Aurelius 8
8.
Πορεύομαι διὰ τῶν κατὰ φύσιν, μέχρι πεσὼν ἀναπαύσομαι ἐναποπνεύσας μὲν τούτῳ, ἐξ οὖ καθ̓ ἡμέραν ἀναπνέω, πεσὼν δὲ ἐπὶ τούτῳ, ἐξ οὗ καὶ τὸ σπερμάτιον ὁ πατήρ μου συνέλεξε καὶ τὸ αἱμάτιον ἡ μήτηρ καὶ τὸ γαλάκτιον ἡ τροφός: ἐξ οὗ καθ̓ ἡμέραν τοσούτοις ἔτεσι βόσκομαι καὶ ἀρδεύομαι: ὃ φέρει με πατοῦντα καὶ εἰς τοσαῦτα ἀποχρώμενον αὐτῷ.
I fare along, as indeed I must, through the things
provided according to Nature, until at last I shall
stop and rest, because I shall sink down. Then I
shall breathe out my life into this same air from
which every day I have inhaled my strength, and lay
me down on this very earth from which my father
collected the seed and my mother the blood and my
nurse the milk for me, the same earth which day
by day has afforded me meat and drink for so many
years, and now bears me up as 1 tread it and use it
to the full in so many ways.
—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 5.4
8.
My body and soul in this their singular time
Of love, require a trysting place—the earth;
And what a tryst! What pied and various clime—
Sweet flower-bed nooks, to lone white-swaddled dearth!
Thence did my childhood’s nurse obtain her milk,
Heart-made enheartening food; thence eke the forms
Were gleaned of linen, cotton, wool or silk
For kirtles loose or snug i’ the sun or storms.
Thence were my parents bred, and all my friends,
And seemly feasts with them of corn and wine;
And for my soul what harvest bright extends
Of beauteous scenes, diversifying line!
Glad will I march the earth while strength ’s to spare,
Then glad expire in earth-befriending air.
Maxims of Goethe 16
I must hold it for the greatest calamity of our time, which lets nothing come to maturity, that one moment is consumed by the next, and the day spent in the day; so that a man is always living from hand to mouth, without having anything to show for it.
Have we not already newspapers for every hour of the day! A good head could assuredly intercalate one or other of them. They publish abroad everything that everyone does, or is busy with or meditating; nay, his very designs are thereby dragged into publicity.
No one can rejoice or be sorry, but as a pastime for others; and so it goes on from house to house, from city to city, from kingdom to kingdom, and at last from one hemisphere to the other—all in post haste.
IMAGE: James H. Cafferty, The Weary Newsboy (1861)
Seneca, Moral Letters 52.3
Suppose that two buildings have been erected, unlike as to their foundations, but equal in height and in grandeur. One is built on faultless ground, and the process of erection goes right ahead.
In the other case, the foundations have exhausted the building materials, for they have been sunk into soft and shifting ground and much labor has been wasted in reaching the solid rock.
As one looks at both of them, one sees clearly what progress the former has made, but the larger and more difficult part of the latter is hidden.
So with men's dispositions; some are pliable and easy to manage, but others have to be laboriously wrought out by hand, so to speak, and are wholly employed in the making of their own foundations.
I should accordingly deem more fortunate the man who has never had any trouble with himself; but the other, I feel, has deserved better of himself, who has won a victory over the meanness of his own nature, and has not gently led himself, but has wrestled his way, to wisdom.
In the other case, the foundations have exhausted the building materials, for they have been sunk into soft and shifting ground and much labor has been wasted in reaching the solid rock.
As one looks at both of them, one sees clearly what progress the former has made, but the larger and more difficult part of the latter is hidden.
So with men's dispositions; some are pliable and easy to manage, but others have to be laboriously wrought out by hand, so to speak, and are wholly employed in the making of their own foundations.
I should accordingly deem more fortunate the man who has never had any trouble with himself; but the other, I feel, has deserved better of himself, who has won a victory over the meanness of his own nature, and has not gently led himself, but has wrestled his way, to wisdom.
—from Seneca, Moral Letters 52
When I gaze out at other people, I must be careful to distinguish between how their lives appear to me and who they truly are. When I gaze back at myself, I must measure my worth by the work I have done that most people will never see.
Seneca here appeals to a basic Stoic truth, one shared in common with all Wisdom Traditions, that the substance should never be confused with the accidents, and that the way something thrives on the inside matters far more than its trappings on the outside. Look through the impressions, and peer within to the essence.
A building may reach to the sky, and it will all be for nothing if it lacks a solid foundation to support it. The pieces we don’t see at first are oftentimes the ones that matter the most. It is very similar when we seek to discern the merits of a man, for while the image of glory is one thing, the deeper commitment to character is quite another.
Where there have been few obstacles to overcome, a man might seem to have gained much. In contrast, the poor fellow who started out with all the odds stacked against him may have very little to show for it, and yet his inner transformation can be the most profound.
Many know the story of the Prodigal Son, though I fear few are willing to embrace some of its lessons. We often fail to recognize the noblest struggles.
Yes, it is good for someone to be gifted with favorable circumstances, but it is more precious for someone to raise himself up from being far less. In this way, the defiant student, facing the limitations of his own inclinations and habits, can earn a certain distinction by subduing his inner demons.
There is absolutely no honor in being a stubborn fool, but there is truly great honor in finally casting off such hostility and ignorance.
When I gaze out at other people, I must be careful to distinguish between how their lives appear to me and who they truly are. When I gaze back at myself, I must measure my worth by the work I have done that most people will never see.
Seneca here appeals to a basic Stoic truth, one shared in common with all Wisdom Traditions, that the substance should never be confused with the accidents, and that the way something thrives on the inside matters far more than its trappings on the outside. Look through the impressions, and peer within to the essence.
A building may reach to the sky, and it will all be for nothing if it lacks a solid foundation to support it. The pieces we don’t see at first are oftentimes the ones that matter the most. It is very similar when we seek to discern the merits of a man, for while the image of glory is one thing, the deeper commitment to character is quite another.
Where there have been few obstacles to overcome, a man might seem to have gained much. In contrast, the poor fellow who started out with all the odds stacked against him may have very little to show for it, and yet his inner transformation can be the most profound.
Many know the story of the Prodigal Son, though I fear few are willing to embrace some of its lessons. We often fail to recognize the noblest struggles.
Yes, it is good for someone to be gifted with favorable circumstances, but it is more precious for someone to raise himself up from being far less. In this way, the defiant student, facing the limitations of his own inclinations and habits, can earn a certain distinction by subduing his inner demons.
There is absolutely no honor in being a stubborn fool, but there is truly great honor in finally casting off such hostility and ignorance.
—Reflection written in 4/2013
Friday, July 14, 2023
Delphic Maxims 27
Practice what is just
IMAGE: Carl Spitzweg, The Eye of the Law (Justice) (1857)
_-_1857.jpg)
Plutarch, The Life of Cato the Younger 10
Instead of this, since he had a furlough of two months allowed him by law, he sailed to Asia to visit the man, relying upon his own good qualities to make him successful in the chase.
He held converse with the philosopher, conquered his objections, drew him from his fixed purpose, and took him back to camp with him.
He was overjoyed and in high spirits, feeling that he had made a most noble capture, and one more illustrious than the nations and kingdoms which Pompey and Lucullus at that time were subduing with their marching armies.
Seneca, Moral Letters 52.2
Epicurus remarks that certain men have worked their way to the truth without anyone's assistance, carving out their own passage. And he gives special praise to these, for their impulse has come from within, and they have forged to the front by themselves.
Again, he says, there are others who need outside help, who will not proceed unless someone leads the way, but who will follow faithfully. Of these, he says, Metrodorus was one; this type of man is also excellent, but belongs to the second grade.
We ourselves are not of that first class, either; we shall be well treated if we are admitted into the second. Nor need you despise a man who can gain salvation only with the assistance of another; the will to be saved means a great deal, too.
You will find still another class of man—and a class not to be despised—who can be forced and driven into righteousness, who do not need a guide as much as they require someone to encourage and, as it were, to force them along. This is the third variety.
If you ask me for a man of this pattern also, Epicurus tells us that Hermarchus was such. And of the two last-named classes, he is more ready to congratulate the one, but he feels more respect for the other; for although both reached the same goal, it is a greater credit to have brought about the same result with the more difficult material upon which to work.
Again, he says, there are others who need outside help, who will not proceed unless someone leads the way, but who will follow faithfully. Of these, he says, Metrodorus was one; this type of man is also excellent, but belongs to the second grade.
We ourselves are not of that first class, either; we shall be well treated if we are admitted into the second. Nor need you despise a man who can gain salvation only with the assistance of another; the will to be saved means a great deal, too.
You will find still another class of man—and a class not to be despised—who can be forced and driven into righteousness, who do not need a guide as much as they require someone to encourage and, as it were, to force them along. This is the third variety.
If you ask me for a man of this pattern also, Epicurus tells us that Hermarchus was such. And of the two last-named classes, he is more ready to congratulate the one, but he feels more respect for the other; for although both reached the same goal, it is a greater credit to have brought about the same result with the more difficult material upon which to work.
—from Seneca, Moral Letters 52
Knowing full well that I, much like the stubborn donkey, must ultimately make my own move, there are still so many ways for others to give me a nudge in the right direction.
Furthermore, we all learn our own lessons with different degrees of assistance, so a helping hand need not be taken as an offense to my self-sufficiency. I may require more opportunities to become my own master, but at least I am making progress.
I wish, of course, that I could go it entirely on my own, and yet I suspect that is just a result of false pride. As rational animals, we are also social animals, and so we do our best work in cooperation with our fellows. A man does not exist in a vacuum, and every judgment or action must proceed from the context of what he has first been given.
Of the three types of learners discussed by Epicurus, I imagine the first to be incredibly rare, and therefore deserving of the greatest respect. Operating only from his innate capacities and the range of his own experience, he would seem closer to the divine than the human. I have yet to meet one, though I’m always keeping an eye out.
Might I claim a membership in the second group? It is true that I have needed many teachers to even make me presentable, and yet I’m not sure I have always participated willingly. My skeptical and obstinate streak means I have, more often than not, been dragged kicking and screaming into any awareness.
No, I’m afraid I am, at least for the moment, a member of the third class, a fellow who usually requires the motivation of a swift kick in the rear. While I eventually become grateful for the inspiration, I am not an obedient pupil, probably because I am frantically trying to think for myself before I have been properly trained in the art of thinking.
The Stoic, however, always finds the good in the bad, and so, together with Epicurus, he recognizes how there is a certain benefit to overcoming the hurdle of obstinacy. The heroic figure rises to lofty heights, and the devoted student does himself credit by his commitment, and yes, even the pigheaded iconoclast can show his worth by defeating his own worst enemy, by finally conquering himself.
Knowing full well that I, much like the stubborn donkey, must ultimately make my own move, there are still so many ways for others to give me a nudge in the right direction.
Furthermore, we all learn our own lessons with different degrees of assistance, so a helping hand need not be taken as an offense to my self-sufficiency. I may require more opportunities to become my own master, but at least I am making progress.
I wish, of course, that I could go it entirely on my own, and yet I suspect that is just a result of false pride. As rational animals, we are also social animals, and so we do our best work in cooperation with our fellows. A man does not exist in a vacuum, and every judgment or action must proceed from the context of what he has first been given.
Of the three types of learners discussed by Epicurus, I imagine the first to be incredibly rare, and therefore deserving of the greatest respect. Operating only from his innate capacities and the range of his own experience, he would seem closer to the divine than the human. I have yet to meet one, though I’m always keeping an eye out.
Might I claim a membership in the second group? It is true that I have needed many teachers to even make me presentable, and yet I’m not sure I have always participated willingly. My skeptical and obstinate streak means I have, more often than not, been dragged kicking and screaming into any awareness.
No, I’m afraid I am, at least for the moment, a member of the third class, a fellow who usually requires the motivation of a swift kick in the rear. While I eventually become grateful for the inspiration, I am not an obedient pupil, probably because I am frantically trying to think for myself before I have been properly trained in the art of thinking.
The Stoic, however, always finds the good in the bad, and so, together with Epicurus, he recognizes how there is a certain benefit to overcoming the hurdle of obstinacy. The heroic figure rises to lofty heights, and the devoted student does himself credit by his commitment, and yes, even the pigheaded iconoclast can show his worth by defeating his own worst enemy, by finally conquering himself.
If I possess a crippling flaw, it is also within my power to defeat this flaw, and to turn it into my greatest victory. Nature does nothing in vain.
—Reflection written in 4/2013
IMAGE: "Contrast a child that's good, with one / Who hates his book and school; / What picture does the blockhead give, / But that he is a fool?" (1828)
Thursday, July 13, 2023
Wednesday, July 12, 2023
Chuang Tzu 4.6
A master mechanic, called Shih, on his way to Khì, came to Khü-yüan, where he saw an oak-tree, which was used as the altar for the spirits of the land. It was so large that an ox standing behind it could not be seen. It measured a hundred spans round, and rose up eighty cubits on the hill before it threw out any branches, after which there were ten or so, from each of which a boat could be hollowed out.
People came to see it in crowds as in a market place, but the mechanic did not look round at it, but held on his way without stopping.
One of his workmen, however, looked long and admiringly at it, and then ran on to his master, and said to him, "Since I followed you with my axe and bill, I have never seen such a beautiful mass of timber as this. Why would you, Sir, not look round at it, but went on without stopping?"
"Have done," said Mr. Shih, "and do not speak about it. It is quite useless. A boat made from its wood would sink; a coffin or shell would quickly rot; an article of furniture would soon go to pieces; a door would be covered with the exuding sap; a pillar would be riddled by insects; the material of it is good for nothing, and hence it is that it has attained to so great an age."
When Mr. Shih was returning, the altar-oak appeared to him in a dream, and said, "What other tree will you compare with me? Will you compare me to one of your ornamental trees? There are hawthorns, pear-trees, orange-trees, pummelo-trees, gourds and other low fruit-bearing plants. When their fruits are ripe, they are knocked down from them, and thrown among the dirt. The large branches are broken, and the smaller are torn away.
"So it is that their productive ability makes their lives bitter to them; they do not complete their natural term of existence, but come to a premature end in the middle of their time, bringing on themselves the destructive treatment which they ordinarily receive.
"It is so with all things. I have sought to discover how it was that I was so useless—I had long done so, until the effort nearly caused my death; and now I have learned it—it has been of the greatest use to me.
"Suppose that I had possessed useful properties, should I have become of the great size that I am? And moreover you and I are both things—how should one thing thus pass its judgment on another? how is it that you a useless man know all this about me a useless tree?"
When Mr. Shih awoke, he kept thinking about his dream, but the workman said, "Being so taken with its uselessness, how is it that it yet acts here as the altar for the spirits of the land?"
"Be still," was the master's reply, "and do not say a word. It simply happened to grow here; and thus those who do not know it do not speak ill of it as an evil thing. If it were not used as the altar, would it be in danger of being cut down? Moreover, the reason of its being preserved is different from that of the preservation of things generally; is not you're explaining it from the sentiment which you have expressed wide of the mark?"
Sayings of Ramakrishna 215
God is in all men, but all men are not in God: that is the reason why they suffer.
Seneca, Moral Letters 52.1
Letter 52: On choosing our teachers
What is this force, Lucilius, that drags us in one direction when we are aiming in another, urging us on to the exact place from which we long to withdraw?
What is it that wrestles with our spirit, and does not allow us to desire anything once for all?
We veer from plan to plan. None of our wishes is free, none is unqualified, none is lasting.
"But it is the fool," you say, "who is inconsistent; nothing suits him for long."
But how or when can we tear ourselves away from this folly? No man by himself has sufficient strength to rise above it; he needs a helping hand, and someone to extricate him.
What is this force, Lucilius, that drags us in one direction when we are aiming in another, urging us on to the exact place from which we long to withdraw?
What is it that wrestles with our spirit, and does not allow us to desire anything once for all?
We veer from plan to plan. None of our wishes is free, none is unqualified, none is lasting.
"But it is the fool," you say, "who is inconsistent; nothing suits him for long."
But how or when can we tear ourselves away from this folly? No man by himself has sufficient strength to rise above it; he needs a helping hand, and someone to extricate him.
—from Seneca, Moral Letters 52
Of all the aspects of life that baffle me, few are as frustrating as the tendency of the human will to lag behind the direction of the mind. It almost seems as if different parts of me are in opposition, and as much as I may intend to do one thing, I still find myself falling short in the execution.
Some will insist that this is because our nature is intrinsically flawed, and while I appreciate the humility in such a view, I can’t help but notice how those very same people then conveniently have a magical cure to sell me. Is there perhaps a way I could strengthen my own resolve, a method by which I might make my actions more in tune with my convictions?
I now have extensive experience in the fine art of herding cats, which has taught me incredible patience, and I once also learned the hard way that a donkey will only move when you give it a good reason to move, which suggests I need to somehow get into the head of the donkey. Is that a start?
It at least reminds me how the problem is not in the structure of the whole, but about whether the pieces are working together in harmony. If the flesh is weak, while the spirit is willing, how do I get that pesky flesh back in line? I can certainly punish the body, and yet am I certain the mind is truly doing all that is required?
This is the age-old philosophical question of moral incontinence, even as I can’t use that term in a classroom without then hearing the inevitable giggling. With Plato, I can say that we only choose what we think is best, though with Aristotle I must observe that our choices are not always in line with our thinking.
Clearly, like a stubborn teenager, proclaiming that I know is not the same as actually knowing, and my ignorance is still getting in the way. The trick needs to be in closing the gap, in making my awareness so complete as to offer only one irresistible choice. The more fully I understand, the easier it becomes to decide. Show the donkey a carrot, and he will soon be your friend.
And just as the animal does his best work when guided by a trainer, so my own character will benefit from the example of a teacher. There’s no use in calling an intemperate man an idiot, because I am then also condemning myself. For those times when I am sorely confused about how to proceed, I should turn to the man who has already proven his worth. He can help me to help myself.
Of all the aspects of life that baffle me, few are as frustrating as the tendency of the human will to lag behind the direction of the mind. It almost seems as if different parts of me are in opposition, and as much as I may intend to do one thing, I still find myself falling short in the execution.
Some will insist that this is because our nature is intrinsically flawed, and while I appreciate the humility in such a view, I can’t help but notice how those very same people then conveniently have a magical cure to sell me. Is there perhaps a way I could strengthen my own resolve, a method by which I might make my actions more in tune with my convictions?
I now have extensive experience in the fine art of herding cats, which has taught me incredible patience, and I once also learned the hard way that a donkey will only move when you give it a good reason to move, which suggests I need to somehow get into the head of the donkey. Is that a start?
It at least reminds me how the problem is not in the structure of the whole, but about whether the pieces are working together in harmony. If the flesh is weak, while the spirit is willing, how do I get that pesky flesh back in line? I can certainly punish the body, and yet am I certain the mind is truly doing all that is required?
This is the age-old philosophical question of moral incontinence, even as I can’t use that term in a classroom without then hearing the inevitable giggling. With Plato, I can say that we only choose what we think is best, though with Aristotle I must observe that our choices are not always in line with our thinking.
Clearly, like a stubborn teenager, proclaiming that I know is not the same as actually knowing, and my ignorance is still getting in the way. The trick needs to be in closing the gap, in making my awareness so complete as to offer only one irresistible choice. The more fully I understand, the easier it becomes to decide. Show the donkey a carrot, and he will soon be your friend.
And just as the animal does his best work when guided by a trainer, so my own character will benefit from the example of a teacher. There’s no use in calling an intemperate man an idiot, because I am then also condemning myself. For those times when I am sorely confused about how to proceed, I should turn to the man who has already proven his worth. He can help me to help myself.
—Reflection written in 4/2013
IMAGE: Anton Romako, The Stubborn Donkey (c. 1856)
Tuesday, July 11, 2023
Stoic Snippets 203
Things stand outside of us, themselves by themselves, neither knowing anything of themselves, nor expressing any judgment.
What is it, then, which does judge about them?
The ruling faculty.
—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 9.15
Monday, July 10, 2023
Dhammapada 324
The elephant called Dhanapalaka, his temples running with sap, and difficult to hold, does not eat a morsel when bound; the elephant longs for the elephant grove.
Wisdom from the Bhagavad Gita 61
18. Knowledge, the known, and the knower form the threefold cause of action. The instrument, the object, and the agent are the threefold basis of action.
19. Knowledge, action, and agent are declared in the Sânkhya philosophy to be of three kinds only, from the distinction of Gunas: hear them also duly.
20. That by which the one indestructible Substance is seen in all beings, inseparate in the separated, know that knowledge to be Sâttvika.
21. But that knowledge which sees in all beings various entities of distinct kinds as different from one another, know you that knowledge as Râjasika.
22. While that which is confined to one single effect as if it were the whole, without reason, without foundation in truth, and trivial—that is declared to be Tâmasika.
23. An ordained action done without love or hatred by one not desirous of the fruit and free from attachment, is declared to be Sâttvika.
24. But the action which is performed desiring desires, or with self-conceit and with much effort, is declared to be Râjasika.
25. That action is declared to be Tâmasika which is undertaken through delusion, without heed to the consequence, loss of power and wealth, injury to others and one's own ability.
26. An agent who is free from attachment, non-egotistic, endued with fortitude and enthusiasm, and unaffected in success or failure, is called Sâttvika.
27. He who is passionate, desirous of the fruits of action, greedy, malignant, impure, easily elated or dejected, such an agent is called Râjasika.
28. Unsteady, vulgar, arrogant, dishonest, malicious, indolent, desponding and procrastinating, such an agent is called Tâmasika.
—Bhagavad Gita, 18:18-28
Seneca, Moral Letters 51.9
But I have been haranguing against Baiae long enough; although I never could harangue often enough against vice.
Vice, Lucilius, is what I wish you to proceed against, without limit and without end. For it has neither limit nor end. If any vice rend your heart, cast it away from you; and if you cannot be rid of it in any other way, pluck out your heart also.
Above all, drive pleasures from your sight. Hate them beyond all other things, for they are like the bandits whom the Egyptians call "lovers," who embrace us only to garrote us. Farewell.
Vice, Lucilius, is what I wish you to proceed against, without limit and without end. For it has neither limit nor end. If any vice rend your heart, cast it away from you; and if you cannot be rid of it in any other way, pluck out your heart also.
Above all, drive pleasures from your sight. Hate them beyond all other things, for they are like the bandits whom the Egyptians call "lovers," who embrace us only to garrote us. Farewell.
—from Seneca, Moral Letters 51
As I reflect on seeking the best environment, I must always remember how no person, place, or thing is ever responsible for making me as I am—I am rather the one who makes myself, by how I choose to employ such circumstances. The company I keep will either encourage or discourage me to become a decent man, so let me pick it wisely.
Baiae, in and of itself, is not really the problem for Lucilius, just as Las Vegas, in and of itself, is not really the problem for me. What is fabulous for one man can just as easily be an occasion of sin for another, depending on their respective inner workings.
If, however, Lucilius and I are thoughtful enough to discern our own strengths and weaknesses, we will surely know why certain enticements do not mix well with our particular dispositions. How much easier it would be for Lucilius to grow fat in a villa, or for me to die alone in a cheap motel, if we foolishly tempted fate.
Life is already giving me all the hardships I need, thank you very much, so I should not deliberately make it any harder on myself. Even as I will bear whatever I must, please don’t ask me to prefer the heavier load.
Perhaps it is just a consequence of growing older, or maybe I am finally learning about my limitations, but I find that I now have far less patience for those grasping people in hectic places. Though I do not wish to deny them their amusements, I will not permit their anxiety to intrude on my own peace of mind. I am happy to make my excuses and go my own way.
I once met a fellow who described his lengthy journey from a life of hustle and bustle in the inner city to a life of solitude in the mountains, and I figured he was just running away. I no longer make that assumption; it is quite possible he was onto something.
Only a few years in the country, where I can actually see the stars at night and the occasional rumble of a distant freight train is the only distraction, have already done a world of good for both my sanity and my blood pressure. No, it hasn’t saved me, but it certainly hasn’t hurt either.
As I reflect on seeking the best environment, I must always remember how no person, place, or thing is ever responsible for making me as I am—I am rather the one who makes myself, by how I choose to employ such circumstances. The company I keep will either encourage or discourage me to become a decent man, so let me pick it wisely.
Baiae, in and of itself, is not really the problem for Lucilius, just as Las Vegas, in and of itself, is not really the problem for me. What is fabulous for one man can just as easily be an occasion of sin for another, depending on their respective inner workings.
If, however, Lucilius and I are thoughtful enough to discern our own strengths and weaknesses, we will surely know why certain enticements do not mix well with our particular dispositions. How much easier it would be for Lucilius to grow fat in a villa, or for me to die alone in a cheap motel, if we foolishly tempted fate.
Life is already giving me all the hardships I need, thank you very much, so I should not deliberately make it any harder on myself. Even as I will bear whatever I must, please don’t ask me to prefer the heavier load.
Perhaps it is just a consequence of growing older, or maybe I am finally learning about my limitations, but I find that I now have far less patience for those grasping people in hectic places. Though I do not wish to deny them their amusements, I will not permit their anxiety to intrude on my own peace of mind. I am happy to make my excuses and go my own way.
I once met a fellow who described his lengthy journey from a life of hustle and bustle in the inner city to a life of solitude in the mountains, and I figured he was just running away. I no longer make that assumption; it is quite possible he was onto something.
Only a few years in the country, where I can actually see the stars at night and the occasional rumble of a distant freight train is the only distraction, have already done a world of good for both my sanity and my blood pressure. No, it hasn’t saved me, but it certainly hasn’t hurt either.
—Reflection written in 4/2013
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