Another Stoic Rabbit

Dhammapada 353

"I have conquered all, I know all, in all conditions of life I am free from taint; I have left all, and through the destruction of thirst I am free; having learnt myself, whom shall I teach?" 

William Hogarth, A Rake's Progress 5

I would like to think that a close call like the encounter with the bailiff would have set me straight, and that I would thereby completely reconsider my values, yet I know all too well how fierce the force of habit can be. Tom is so fixated on his vision of becoming an idle and libertine "gentleman" that he can only conceive of the accumulation of wealth as a solution to his problems. 

The grasping man is all too familiar with the ways that love can be twisted around for the sake of selfish gain, such that marriage becomes nothing more than to tool for social advancement. Here Tom is being wed to a rich old woman, either an old maid or a widow, and while she seems to gaze at the priest quite happily, the groom is already leering past her in longing for her young servant. 

The dilapidated church surely says something about the state of a society where such mercenary unions are blessed. Observe how the tablets with the ten commandments are cracked, and the poor box is covered in cobwebs, next to a pew reserved for those who can afford to pay for the privilege. 

In the background Sarah, along with Tom's child, have come to stop the marriage, and her mother is having it out with the churchwarden. The two dogs are a perverse mockery of the whole event, symbolizing how ridiculous the game has become. 

For my own generation, marriage had already become far less relevant, but of those I know who did marry, some did so out of lust, and a good many more did it for the sake of status. I am acutely aware of how easily love is confused with the desire for pleasure or profit. 

William Hogarth, A Rake's Progress V: The Marriage (1734) 

Seneca, Moral Letters 59.6

I shall now show you how you may know that you are not wise. 
 
The wise man is joyful, happy, and calm, unshaken; he lives on a plane with the gods. Now go, question yourself; if you are never downcast, if your mind is not harassed by any apprehension, through anticipation of what is to come, if day and night your soul keeps on its even and unswerving course, upright and content with itself, then you have attained to the greatest good that mortals can possess. 
 
If, however, you seek pleasures of all kinds in all directions, you must know that you are as far short of wisdom as you are short of joy. Joy is the goal which you desire to reach, but you are wandering from the path, if you expect to reach your goal while you are in the midst of riches and official titles—in other words, if you seek joy in the midst of cares. These objects for which you strive so eagerly, as if they would give you happiness and pleasure, are merely causes of grief. 
 
All men of this stamp, I maintain, are pressing on in pursuit of joy, but they do not know where they may obtain a joy that is both great and enduring. 
 
One person seeks it in feasting and self-indulgence; another, in canvassing for honors and in being surrounded by a throng of clients; another, in his mistress; another, in idle display of culture and in literature that has no power to heal; all these men are led astray by delights which are deceptive and short-lived—like drunkenness for example, which pays for a single hour of hilarious madness by a sickness of many days, or like applause and the popularity of enthusiastic approval which are gained, and atoned for, at the cost of great mental disquietude. 

—from Seneca, Moral Letters 59 
 
Happiness, and the wisdom required for it, may seem so deeply mysterious, and yet the Stoics have taught me a way to rather quickly ascertain if a man is managing to live well. As with all standards of judgment, it works best of all when it is focused within. 
 
Simply put, does he regularly show himself to be at peace with himself and his circumstances, or is he constantly grasping, and therefore ill at ease with his condition? I am doing better when I want for little, and I am doing worse when I crave for more. 
 
Now while many of us believe that satisfaction comes from the acquisition of externals, and therefore involves constant plotting and scheming to stack the deck, the Stoic understands how everything revolves around an internal attitude. Once I realize why the exercise of my nature alone is sufficient, whatever the lay of the land, I am freed from the bondage of discontent. 
 
The wise man reveals himself in his happiness, since he makes no demands of the world. In this sense, it can truly be said that he is god-like, approaching the level of Divine self-sufficiency, for he is able to smile at any kind of fortune. In finding his genuine humanity, he has found his bliss. 
 
In contrast, note how the covetous man may well present himself as confident and ambitious, but he is a slave to the objects of his desire. This is why he is never quite comfortable with himself, and he always remains anxious and angry. That throbbing vein on the power broker’s neck betrays his fatal weakness. 
 
Some seek happiness in pleasure, in fame, or in influence, and they still can’t hide the fact that their frustrations are a consequence of their misery. When wisdom does not clarify the meaning of joy, serenity is out of reach. 
 
I laugh out loud at Seneca’s final two examples, having fallen for such lies far too often in my younger days. Turning to binge drinking felt like a way to numb the pain, which I, in turn, selfishly attributed to not being properly loved or appreciated. There is no need for a narcotic or a reliance on the opinions of others—virtue is freedom, for it depends only on itself. 

—Reflection written in 6/2013 

IMAGE: Niccola Ricciolini, Allegory of Hope and Happiness (c. 1720) 

James Vila Blake, Sonnets from Marcus Aurelius 12

12. 

Ἑνὶ τέρπου καὶ προσαναπαύου, τῷ ἀπὸ πράξεως κοινωνικῆς μεταβαίνειν ἐπὶ πρᾶξιν κοινωνικὴν σὺν μνήμῃ θεοῦ.

Delight your self in one thing above all, and find your rest in it, namely, to pass on from deed to deed suitable for social communion, with all your thoughts fixed on God.

—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 6.7  

12. 

A bush, its bloom and fruit, supply all senses, 

While we enjoy its shadow, balm and food; 

To no perception doth it pose defences, 

But signaleth its way to any mood. 

Such pleasure sweet pelts on me like a rain 

At summer twilight suddenly, when closes 

A torrid day, and th’ drip mingles its vein 

With seepage of attar distilling on the roses. 

Yet of all mirth, as wine, song, games, or more, 

I pray me let me none unguarded plan; 

But serviceable worth, be that my lore, 

My joy that by me better joyed is man; 

And thinking thus: That all in One are one; 

So all for All as one, for One as all, be done! 

Plutarch, The Life of Cato the Younger 14

However, Pompey himself put to shame the men who were thus neglect­ful of Cato through ignorance. 

For when Cato came to Ephesus and was proceeding to pay his respects to Pompey as an older man, one who was greatly superior in reputation, and then in command of the greatest forces, Pompey caught sight of him and would not wait, nor would he suffer Cato to come to him as he sat, but sprang up as though to honor a superior, went to meet him, and gave him his hand. 

He also passed many encomiums upon his virtue even while he was present and receiving marks of kindness and affection, and still more after he had withdrawn. 

Therefore all men, being put of shame and now directing their attention to Cato, admired him for the traits which before had brought him scorn, and made a study of his mildness and magnanimity. 

And indeed it was no secret that Pompey's attentions to him were due to self-interest rather than to friendship; men knew that Pompey admired him when he was present, but was glad to have him go away. 

For all the other young men who came to him were retained by Pompey, who showed an eager longing for their companion­ship; of Cato, on the contrary, he made no such request, but, as if he must render account of his command while Cato was there, he was glad to send him away. 

And yet Cato was almost the only person among those bound for Rome to whom Pompey commended his wife and children, although it is true that they were relatives of his. 

As a consequence of all this, the cities regularly vied with one another in showing Cato honor, and there were suppers and invitations, at which times he would urge his friends to keep close watch upon him, lest he should unawares confirm the saying of Curio. 

For Curio, annoyed at the severity of Cato, who was his intimate friend, had asked him whether he was desirous of seeing Asia after his term of service in the army. 

"Certainly I am," said Cato. 

"That's right," said Curio, "for you will come back from there a more agreeable man and more tame!"—that is about the meaning of the word he used. 

IMAGE: Pompey 

Sayings of Publilius Syrus 131

One day treats us like a hireling nurse, another like a mother. 

Seneca, Moral Letters 59.5

Alexander was roaming as far as India, ravaging tribes that were but little known, even to their neighbors. During the blockade of a certain city, while he was reconnoitering the walls and hunting for the weakest spot in the fortifications, he was wounded by an arrow. 
 
Nevertheless, he long continued the siege, intent on finishing what he had begun. The pain of his wound, however, as the surface became dry and as the flow of blood was checked, increased; his leg gradually became numb as he sat his horse; and finally, when he was forced to withdraw, he exclaimed: "All men swear that I am the son of Jupiter, but this wound cries out that I am mortal." 
 
Let us also act in the same way. Each man, according to his lot in life, is stultified by flattery. We should say to him who flatters us: "You call me a man of sense, but I understand how many of the things which I crave are useless, and how many of the things which I desire will do me harm. I have not even the knowledge, which satiety teaches to animals, of what should be the measure of my food or my drink. I do not yet know how much I can hold." 

—from Seneca, Moral Letters 59 
 
I am always deeply touched when I see a child turn to his parents for approval or encouragement, and yet there is something rather amiss when adults constantly seek the praise and blessings of their supposed superiors. It remains natural for the youth, who is still forming his own reason, but it is a weakness for the man, who should learn to stand on his own convictions. 
 
I must resist the temptation to grow angry when I see how much time people spend flattering those they hope will help them to “get ahead”, and how easily the masters proudly strut about and manipulate their followers by dishing out portions of acknowledgement. There is, after all, no malice in it, only a confusion that comes from failing to have confidence in one’s own worth. Pity, not frustration, is the proper response. 
 
If I am constantly told how great I am, I will be inclined to start believing it, and I will then start replacing my own inner merits with a craving for outer acclaim. I very rarely find myself celebrated, but when I do I feel that I want more, for honor can so easily become a sort of addiction. I should take the praise if it comes, though I should never take it too seriously. 
 
Just as the rich struggle to conceive of a life without luxury, so the celebrated can no longer disentangle their identities from their reputations. 
 
Alexander indeed had a healthy reminder of his weakness and mortality, and he was thereby granted the opportunity to consider his true nature. Though it may not feel so pleasant at the time, I end up being grateful when I have been put in my place. I will not discover who I am without looking beyond the illusion of how I appear. 
 
When I am fawning over others, I reveal my own insecurity. When I am puffed up with popularity, it can be good to burst that bubble. I am well advised to reflect on one of my many vices if another is extolling one of my dubious virtues. 

—Reflection written in 6/2013 

IMAGE: School of Simon de Vos, Alexander Wounded (c. 1650) 

Storm on the Sea 15

Egide Linnig, A Shipwreck off a Rocky Coast (1848) 

Ruins 5

Peter Burnitz, A Ruined House (c. 1857) 

Vanitas 77

Evert Collier, Vanitas Still Life (1665) 

Wisdom from the Bhagavad Gita 65

61. The Lord, O Arjuna, dwells in the hearts of all beings, causing all beings, by His Mâyâ, to revolve, as if mounted on a machine. 

62. Take refuge in Him with all your heart, O Bhârata; by His grace shall you attain supreme peace and the eternal abode. 

63. Thus has wisdom, more profound than all profundities, been declared to you by Me; reflecting over it fully, act as you like. 

64. Hear you again My supreme word, the profoundest of all; because you are dearly beloved of Me, therefore will I speak what is good to you. 

65. Occupy your mind with Me, be devoted to Me, sacrifice to Me, bow down to Me. You shall reach Myself; truly do I promise unto you, for you are dear to Me. 

66. Relinquishing all Dharmas, take refuge in Me alone; I will liberate you from all sins; grieve not. 

67. This is never to be spoken by you to one who is devoid of austerities or devotion, nor to one who does not render service, nor to one who cavils at Me. 

68. He who, with supreme devotion to Me, will teach this deeply profound philosophy to My devotees, shall doubtless come to Me alone. 

69. Nor among men is there any who does dearer service to Me, nor shall there be another on earth dearer to Me, than he. 

70. And he who will study this sacred dialogue of ours, by him shall I have been worshipped by the Yajna of knowledge; such is My conviction. 

71. And even that man who hears this, full of Shraddhâ and free from malice, he too, liberated, shall attain to the happy worlds of those of righteous deeds. 

—Bhagavad Gita, 18:61-71 

Maxims of Goethe 29

Whoso is content with pure experience and acts upon it has enough of truth. The growing child is wise in this sense. 

IMAGE: Thomas Le Clear, Boys Fishing (1846) 

Seneca, Moral Letters 59.4

We human beings are fettered and weakened by many vices; we have wallowed in them for a long time, and it is hard for us to be cleansed. We are not merely defiled; we are dyed by them. 
 
But, to refrain from passing from one figure to another, I will raise this question, which I often consider in my own heart: why is it that folly holds us with such an insistent grasp? 
 
It is, primarily, because we do not combat it strongly enough, because we do not struggle towards salvation with all our might; secondly, because we do not put sufficient trust in the discoveries of the wise, and do not drink in their words with open hearts; we approach this great problem in too trifling a spirit.
 
But how can a man learn, in the struggle against his vices, an amount that is enough, if the time which he gives to learning is only the amount left over from his vices? None of us goes deep below the surface. We skim the top only, and we regard the smattering of time spent in the search for wisdom as enough and to spare for a busy man.
 
What hinders us most of all is that we are too readily satisfied with ourselves; if we meet with someone who calls us good men, or sensible men, or holy men, we see ourselves in his description. Not content with praise in moderation, we accept everything that shameless flattery heaps upon us, as if it were our due. 
 
We agree with those who declare us to be the best and wisest of men, although we know that they are given to much lying. And we are so self-complacent that we desire praise for certain actions when we are especially addicted to the very opposite. 
 
Yonder person hears himself called "most gentle" when he is inflicting tortures, or "most generous" when he is engaged in looting, or "most temperate" when he is in the midst of drunkenness and lust. Thus, it follows that we are unwilling to be reformed, just because we believe ourselves to be the best of men. 

—from Seneca, Moral Letters 59 
 
If a life of solid character, practicing the most basic integrity and decency, is so fundamental to our nature, then why do we find it so hard to stay the course? It might appear as if the whole apparatus is horribly broken. 
 
Or could it be that I am not rightly using the tools I have been given, because I haven’t taken the time to become familiar with their workings? Observe the child who is so impatient to play with a new toy, and yet he promptly cries out that it is defective: he ripped open the box without looking at the directions. 
 
As a creature of reason and choice, I will need to master my own power of judgement in order to discover my purpose, for that knowledge has not been handed to me on a silver platter. Though all the pieces are ready at hand, I will have to put in a conscious effort, and that can get tricky when I am distracted by immediate impressions. 
 
People will sadly give up on a task, believing it to be impossible, when only a bit of practice or the slightest change of approach is required. How often I have failed to follow through, and how often I have neglected to heed the example of those who have struggled before me! 
 
It demands something of me to become good, and absolutely nothing of me to become bad. Is it any wonder that I satisfy myself with a cursory glance, and yet I worry why I am still so miserable?
 
When I lack a confidence in my own merits, I am inclined to seek the approval of others, and when I depend upon praise, I make myself vulnerable to flattery. If she says that I am worthy, I am quick to agree. If he insists that I have already tried hard enough, I will pat myself on the back. I replace genuine commitment with instant gratification, and I have sold myself out to easy appearances. 
 
I obviously won’t make any progress when the pursuit of virtue is treated as an option instead of as a necessity. 

—Reflection written in 6/2013 

Delphic Maxims 40

Ὅρα τὸ μέλλον 

Foresee the future 

Wisdom from the Early Cynics, Diogenes 25

Alexander having on one occasion sent a letter to Antipater at Athens by a certain Athlios, Diogenes, who was present, said: 

"Graceless son of graceless sire to graceless wight by graceless squire."  

Perdiccas having threatened to put Diogenes to death unless he came to him, "That's nothing wonderful," said he, "for a beetle or a tarantula would do the same." 

Instead of that he would have expected the threat to be that Perdiccas would be quite happy to do without his company. 

He would often insist loudly that the gods had given to men the means of living easily, but this had been put out of sight, because we require honeyed cakes, unguents and the like. 

Hence to a man whose shoes were being put on by his servant, he said, "You have not attained to full felicity, unless he wipes your nose as well; and that will come, when you have lost the use of your hands." 

—Diogenes Laërtius, 6.44 

Wisdom from the Early Stoics, Zeno of Citium 65

And the Stoics say that only the morally beautiful is good. So Hecato in his treatise On Goods, book III, and Chrysippus in his work On the Morally Beautiful. 

They hold, that is, that virtue and whatever partakes of virtue consists in this: which is equivalent to saying that all that is good is beautiful, or that the term "good" has equal force with the term "beautiful," which comes to the same thing. 

"Since a thing is good, it is beautiful; now it is beautiful, therefore it is good." 

They hold that all goods are equal and that all good is desirable in the highest degree and admits of no lowering or heightening of intensity. 

Of things that are, some, they say, are good, some are evil, and some neither good nor evil, that is, morally indifferent. 

—Diogenes Laërtius, 7.101 

IMAGE: Jean-Jacques-Francois Le Barbier, Chasing Butterflies, An Allegory of Beauty Attempting to Restrain Inconstancy (1810) 

Sayings of Ramakrishna 228

He who is absorbed in others' affairs, forgets his own outer and inner affairs. 

He does not think about his own lower and higher self, but is absorbed in the affairs of other selfs. 

Cosmos 4

Seneca, Moral Letters 59.3

For example, I am at this very moment reading Sextius; he is a keen man, and a philosopher who, though he writes in Greek, has the Roman standard of ethics. One of his similes appealed especially to me, that of an army marching in hollow square, in a place where the enemy might be expected to appear from any quarter, ready for battle. 

 
"This," said he, "is just what the wise man ought to do; he should have all his fighting qualities deployed on every side, so that wherever the attack threatens, there his supports may be ready to hand and may obey the captain's command without confusion." 
 
This is what we notice in armies which serve under great leaders; we see how all the troops simultaneously understand their general's orders, since they are so arranged that a signal given by one man passes down the ranks of cavalry and infantry at the same moment.
 
This, he declares, is still more necessary for men like ourselves; for soldiers have often feared an enemy without reason, and the march which they thought most dangerous has in fact been most secure; but folly brings no repose, fear haunts it both in the van and in the rear of the column, and both flanks are in a panic. 
 
Folly is pursued, and confronted, by peril. It blenches at everything; it is unprepared; it is frightened even by auxiliary troops. But the wise man is fortified against all inroads; he is alert; he will not retreat before the attack of poverty, or of sorrow, or of disgrace, or of pain. He will walk undaunted both against them and among them. 

—from Seneca, Moral Letters 59 
 
The appeal to an analogy has often saved me from utter confusion, for a single likeness can allow me to open up to the fuller meaning. It’s a bit like finally coming across that comfortable landmark when I’ve gotten all turned around on winding city streets. 
 
And there are so many factors that can contribute to my befuddlement, from arrogant presumptions to stubborn passions, from sloppy thinking to lazy habits. There is no weakness, I believe, in drawing on an appearance with which I am already friendly. 
 
Now military examples may not be for everyone, so we are all called to find whatever works best for us, but I can certainly relate to the idea of being constantly prepared, of covering all the bases, as the sportsman might say. As a marching army must be ready for any attack, so I must remember how the greatest challenges have a way of arriving when I least expect them. Lady Fortune operates on her own terms. 
 
For some reason, I recall a scene in the film Gods and Generals that has stuck with me over the years, where Chamberlain explains to his men how important it is to seamlessly switch from columns of four to line of battle. Only constant drill can achieve this, so that the soldiers can perform the maneuver in their sleep. 
 
I have, thankfully, never been an infantryman under fire, though the proficiency he must acquire to face the enemy is not so different from the skills we must all develop to confront any of life’s hardships.
 
Whether the fear be of injury or of death, of pain or of loss, or sickness or of poverty, of success or of failure, of guilt or of shame, the challenge is universal. The necessary strength is one of character, not simply of the flesh, and this can only be summoned through a total reappraisal of where I place my priorities. 
 
As long as I am accustomed to seeking the true and the good in the mere arrangement of circumstances, I will never achieve the virtues of prudence, fortitude, temperance, and justice, and so I will never learn to rest in genuine joy. 
 
The everyman needs this insight as much as the soldier. 

—Reflection written in 6/2013