IMAGE: Giovanni Battista Tiepolo, Scipio Africanus Freeing Massiva (c. 1721)
The Death of Marcus Aurelius
Tuesday, April 9, 2024
Justus Lipsius, On Constancy 1.3
But deep settled diseases of the mind are not taken away thereby, no nor any whit mitigated: but rather revived. That it is the mind which is sick in us, which must seek remedy from wisdom and constancy.
"You will say then, what? Does traveling detract nothing at all from these great evils? Does not the sight of fair fields, rivers, and mountains put a man out of his pains? It may be they hold us from them, but yet for a very short time, and to no good end. Even as a picture, be it ever so exquisite, delights the eye a little while: so all this variety of persons and places pleases us with the novelty, yet but only for a short season.
"This is a certain declining from evils, but no avoiding of them: And peregrination may well be said to slack the bands of sorrow, but not to loose them. What does it avail me to behold the sun for a season, and immediately to be shut up in a close prison? So it comes to pass that these external pleasures do beguile the mind, and under pretense of helping do greatly hurt us.
"Like as medicines that be weak in operation do not purge ill humors, but provoke them: so these vain delights do kindle and inflame in us the fuel of affections. The mind strays not long from itself, but whether it will or not, is soon driven home to its old harbor of adversities.
"Those very towns and hills which you shall behold for your comfort will reduce you in conceit into your own country: and even in the midst of your joys you shall either see or hear something that will rub raw the old gall of your griefs. Or else if it be so that you take your ease awhile, it will be but short as a slumber, and when you awake the fever will be as it was, or more fervent. For we see that some lusts do increase by intermitting them and by delays gather deeper root.
"Therefore, Lipsius, let pass these vain, yes noisome, not remedies but poisons: and be content to endure the true curing caustic medicines. Would you fain change countries? May you rather change your own mind wrongfully subjected to affections, and withdrawn from the natural obedience of its lawful lady, I mean reason. The corruption and defiling whereof causes in you this despair and languishing. The mind must be changed, not the place.
"You have an earnest desire to see the fruitful country of Austria, the good strong town of Vienna, Danube the chief of rivers, with many other rare novelties which may work admiration in the hearers.
"How much better is it that your affection were as firmly settled to the obtaining of wisdom? That you would search out the very fountain of all human perturbations? That you would erect forts and bulwarks wherewith you might be able to withstand and repulse the furious assaults of lusts? These be the true remedies of your disease, all the residue do but feed and foster the same. This your wandering into other countries shall not avail you, it shall nothing avail you.
To pass so many towns of Greekish land
Or scape by flight through midst of hostile band
"For you shall still find an enemy in you, yes, even in that closet of yours."
And therewithal he struck me on the breast, "What good will it do you to be settled in a peaceable place? You carry war with you. What can a quiet habitation benefit you? Troubles are ever about you, yes in you. For this distracted mind of yours wars, and ever will be at war with itself, in coveting, in flying, in hoping, in despairing.
"And as they that for fear turn their backs to their enemies are in the greater danger, having their face from their foe, and their backs unarmed, so fares it with these ignorant novices, who never have made any resistance against their affections: but by flight yielded unto them.
"But you, young man, if you be advised by me, shall stand to it, and set sure footing against this your adversary, sorrow. Above all things it behooves you to be constant; for by fighting many man has gotten the victory, but none by flying."
IMAGE: Hendrick Goltzius, Justus Lipsius (1587)
Monday, April 8, 2024
Maxims of Goethe 40
Men do not come to know one another easily, even with the best will and the best purpose. And then ill-will comes in and distorts everything.
IMAGE: William-Adolphe Bouguereau, Malice (1899)
_-_Mailice_(1899).jpg)
Cicero, Tusculan Disputations 3.33
M. Nor is that consolation much to be relied on, though it is frequently practiced, and sometimes has some effect, namely, “That you are not alone in this.”
It has its effect, as I said, but not always, nor with every person, for some reject it; but much depends on the application of it; for you ought rather to show, not how men in general have been affected with such evils, but how men of sense have borne them.
As to Chrysippus’s method, it is certainly founded in truth; but it is difficult to apply it in time of distress. It is a work of no small difficulty to persuade a person in affliction that he grieves merely because he thinks it right so to do.
Certainly, then, as in pleadings we do not state all cases alike (if I may adopt the language of lawyers for a moment), but adapt what we have to say to the time, to the nature of the subject under debate, and to the person; so, too, in alleviating grief, regard should be had to what kind of cure the party to be comforted can admit of.
But, somehow or other, we have rambled from what you originally proposed. For your question was concerning a wise man, with whom nothing can have the appearance of evil that is not dishonorable; or at least, anything else would seem so small an evil that by his wisdom he would so overmatch it as to make it wholly disappear; and such a man makes no addition to his grief through opinion, and never conceives it right to torment himself above measure, nor to wear himself out with grief, which is the meanest thing imaginable.
Reason, however, it seems, has demonstrated (though it was not directly our object at the moment to inquire whether anything can be called an evil except what is base) that it is in our power to discern that all the evil which there is in affliction has nothing natural in it, but is contracted by our own voluntary judgment of it, and the error of opinion.
It has its effect, as I said, but not always, nor with every person, for some reject it; but much depends on the application of it; for you ought rather to show, not how men in general have been affected with such evils, but how men of sense have borne them.
As to Chrysippus’s method, it is certainly founded in truth; but it is difficult to apply it in time of distress. It is a work of no small difficulty to persuade a person in affliction that he grieves merely because he thinks it right so to do.
Certainly, then, as in pleadings we do not state all cases alike (if I may adopt the language of lawyers for a moment), but adapt what we have to say to the time, to the nature of the subject under debate, and to the person; so, too, in alleviating grief, regard should be had to what kind of cure the party to be comforted can admit of.
But, somehow or other, we have rambled from what you originally proposed. For your question was concerning a wise man, with whom nothing can have the appearance of evil that is not dishonorable; or at least, anything else would seem so small an evil that by his wisdom he would so overmatch it as to make it wholly disappear; and such a man makes no addition to his grief through opinion, and never conceives it right to torment himself above measure, nor to wear himself out with grief, which is the meanest thing imaginable.
Reason, however, it seems, has demonstrated (though it was not directly our object at the moment to inquire whether anything can be called an evil except what is base) that it is in our power to discern that all the evil which there is in affliction has nothing natural in it, but is contracted by our own voluntary judgment of it, and the error of opinion.
—from Cicero, Tusculan Disputations 3.33
For quite some time, I would dread sharing my troubles with anyone, because I was almost always given one of these responses:
“Well, you know all of us have to deal with these things!”
“Oh, it’s not as bad as you think it is!”
Now experience has thankfully granted me a bit more patience, but regardless of whether the statements are intended to be dismissive or helpful, such advice usually just results in greater frustration. Instead of feeling encouraged, I will likely feel diminished, and the trick to offering consolation involves walking a fine line between minimizing and enabling.
Cicero understands how prudence demands adapting the principles to the circumstances, for whatever is said must take into account how it is likely to be heard. If comfort is to be offered, what is the disposition of the sufferer? Given his strengths and weaknesses, how will he react to the advice? Is he already willing to reflect calmly, or do his passions still need some time to settle?
Most importantly, if we appeal to examples of how others have grieved, it is better to stress the way they found comfort, instead of dwelling upon the weight of their hardship; no one ever improves by merely multiplying the sadness.
You can tell me you know how bad it is, but you can also tell me you know I possess the power to overcome it. You can, conversely, tell it isn’t so bad at all, but you can also steadily walk me through the stages of my grief.
In any case, we are speaking here of those who are still on the path to wisdom, and how to gradually help them understand why the evil is ultimately in their own estimation. The original question of this book, however, was about whether the wise man must be subject to grief, and we have now seen more of how it is precisely the presence of wisdom that permits him to rise above the pain of loss.
With the Stoics, we can appreciate how, as rational animals, we are defined by our responses to events, and are not merely enslaved to the force of circumstances. Since human evil is only to be found in vice, which is ours to control, what seemed so oppressive is now an obstacle of our own making; it is either nothing at all, or so insignificant in contrast to virtue that it can practically shrink to a triviality.
This is why I know I am still a work in progress: I struggle mightily because my habits lag behind my understanding, and this is a call to arms, not an admission of defeat. Happiness is made to be my freely chosen nature, and thus grief is not made to be a part of that nature.
For quite some time, I would dread sharing my troubles with anyone, because I was almost always given one of these responses:
“Well, you know all of us have to deal with these things!”
“Oh, it’s not as bad as you think it is!”
Now experience has thankfully granted me a bit more patience, but regardless of whether the statements are intended to be dismissive or helpful, such advice usually just results in greater frustration. Instead of feeling encouraged, I will likely feel diminished, and the trick to offering consolation involves walking a fine line between minimizing and enabling.
Cicero understands how prudence demands adapting the principles to the circumstances, for whatever is said must take into account how it is likely to be heard. If comfort is to be offered, what is the disposition of the sufferer? Given his strengths and weaknesses, how will he react to the advice? Is he already willing to reflect calmly, or do his passions still need some time to settle?
Most importantly, if we appeal to examples of how others have grieved, it is better to stress the way they found comfort, instead of dwelling upon the weight of their hardship; no one ever improves by merely multiplying the sadness.
You can tell me you know how bad it is, but you can also tell me you know I possess the power to overcome it. You can, conversely, tell it isn’t so bad at all, but you can also steadily walk me through the stages of my grief.
In any case, we are speaking here of those who are still on the path to wisdom, and how to gradually help them understand why the evil is ultimately in their own estimation. The original question of this book, however, was about whether the wise man must be subject to grief, and we have now seen more of how it is precisely the presence of wisdom that permits him to rise above the pain of loss.
With the Stoics, we can appreciate how, as rational animals, we are defined by our responses to events, and are not merely enslaved to the force of circumstances. Since human evil is only to be found in vice, which is ours to control, what seemed so oppressive is now an obstacle of our own making; it is either nothing at all, or so insignificant in contrast to virtue that it can practically shrink to a triviality.
This is why I know I am still a work in progress: I struggle mightily because my habits lag behind my understanding, and this is a call to arms, not an admission of defeat. Happiness is made to be my freely chosen nature, and thus grief is not made to be a part of that nature.
—Reflection written in 12/1998
IMAGE: Jacques-Louis David, The Philosopher (1779)
Sunday, April 7, 2024
Delphic Maxims 51
Φόνου ἀπέχου
Abstain from murder
IMAGE: Peter Paul Rubens, Cain Slaying Abel (c. 1609)
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Saturday, April 6, 2024
Friday, April 5, 2024
Sayings of Ramakrishna 239
So is the Light Divine. It falls equally and impartially on all hearts, but the pure and clean hearts of the good and holy Sâdhus only can fully reflect it.
IMAGE: Gustave Moreau, Saint Sebastian and the Angel (c. 1876)
Cicero, Tusculan Disputations 3.32
M. But the principal medicine to be applied in consolation is, to maintain either that it is no evil at all, or a very inconsiderable one.
The next best to that is, to speak of the common condition of life, having a view, if possible, to the state of the person whom you comfort particularly.
The third is, that it is folly to wear one’s self out with grief which can avail nothing.
For the comfort of Cleanthes is suitable only for a wise man, who is in no need of any comfort at all; for could you persuade one in grief that nothing is an evil but what is base, you would not only cure him of grief, but folly. But the time for such precepts is not well chosen.
Besides, Cleanthes does not seem to me sufficiently aware that affliction may very often proceed from that very thing which he himself allows to be the greatest misfortune.
For what shall we say? When Socrates had convinced Alcibiades, as we are told, that he had no distinctive qualifications as a man different from other people, and that, in fact, there was no difference between him, though a man of the highest rank, and a porter; and when Alcibiades became uneasy at this, and entreated Socrates, with tears in his eyes, to make him a man of virtue, and to cure him of that mean position; what shall we say to this, Cleanthes? Was there no evil in what afflicted Alcibiades thus?
What strange things does Lycon say? Who, making light of grief, says that it arises from trifles, from things that affect our fortune or bodies, not from the evils of the mind. What, then? did not the grief of Alcibiades proceed from the defects and evils of the mind?
I have already said enough of Epicurus’s consolation.
The next best to that is, to speak of the common condition of life, having a view, if possible, to the state of the person whom you comfort particularly.
The third is, that it is folly to wear one’s self out with grief which can avail nothing.
For the comfort of Cleanthes is suitable only for a wise man, who is in no need of any comfort at all; for could you persuade one in grief that nothing is an evil but what is base, you would not only cure him of grief, but folly. But the time for such precepts is not well chosen.
Besides, Cleanthes does not seem to me sufficiently aware that affliction may very often proceed from that very thing which he himself allows to be the greatest misfortune.
For what shall we say? When Socrates had convinced Alcibiades, as we are told, that he had no distinctive qualifications as a man different from other people, and that, in fact, there was no difference between him, though a man of the highest rank, and a porter; and when Alcibiades became uneasy at this, and entreated Socrates, with tears in his eyes, to make him a man of virtue, and to cure him of that mean position; what shall we say to this, Cleanthes? Was there no evil in what afflicted Alcibiades thus?
What strange things does Lycon say? Who, making light of grief, says that it arises from trifles, from things that affect our fortune or bodies, not from the evils of the mind. What, then? did not the grief of Alcibiades proceed from the defects and evils of the mind?
I have already said enough of Epicurus’s consolation.
—from Cicero, Tusculan Disputations 3.32
For making things right in the world, nothing beats an earth-shattering insight, where I realize how I have had my wires crossed. Once I truly learn why all those things I thought were deeply evil are hardly evil for me at all, and I finally discover the good to be in my own willingness to understand and to love, I can already feel the grief slipping away, slowly but surely.
The problem, however, is that such epiphanies do not come easy, and they will not always arrive conveniently during a moment of crisis. Even I, the sort of fellow who turns to books for comfort when the going gets tough, do not necessarily take well to radical reflections on the subtleties of ethics when I am in thrall to a turbulent passion.
If a grand change of attitude isn’t in the cards right now, there are other ways to diminish grief, at least for a time. When people are troubled, I am inclined to seek out answers for them, but answers are not always welcome while the pain is still so fresh.
I was a little slow to realize how friends find comfort in simply being listened to, and in knowing that they are not alone. We all share in the same human condition, for the creature gifted with reason is also strengthen by a consciousness of solidarity.
Furthermore, if it is too much to ponder the first principles, there is also a place for looking at the immediate consequences. While the situation may appear overwhelming, what actual good will come from feeling sorry for ourselves?
Any initial satisfaction from playing the victim quickly degrades into even greater suffering—it’s something like drinking to numb the pain, and then waking up with the worst hangover. There’s no need to be a philosopher to learn why dwelling upon the sadness only increases the sadness.
Finally, there will be cases, and usually the most critical ones, where the source of grief is genuinely what we would now call “an existential crisis”, a crippling realization of our own grievous moral failings. When this happens, it won’t help to say that fortune cannot truly harm us, because the evil is now rising up from within.
The fact is, of course, that we then become brutally aware of how we are the only ones who can fix ourselves, also from within. I can’t speak for what Cleanthes or Lycon intended, but the Stoics did argue that there could never properly be such a thing as a fitting or rational grief, since once we recognize why any human evil proceed from our own judgments, it is then within our power to remove them.
In other words, there can cease to be a problem, right there and then, when the problem can come or go by means of a voluntary choice. Nonetheless, the philosopher needs to remember that while the solution may be simple in theory, it is not always so easy in practice. The emotions are powerful, the habits are stubborn, and the courage of conviction is typically slow to fire up.
In both history and philosophy, Alcibiades is hard to figure out, a mess of seeming contradictions, yet surely that is reflective of the entire human condition. If he sank into despair when Socrates helped him to perceive his own weakness, he was just as confused as the rest of us. The process of self-healing will inevitably take some time and effort.
For making things right in the world, nothing beats an earth-shattering insight, where I realize how I have had my wires crossed. Once I truly learn why all those things I thought were deeply evil are hardly evil for me at all, and I finally discover the good to be in my own willingness to understand and to love, I can already feel the grief slipping away, slowly but surely.
The problem, however, is that such epiphanies do not come easy, and they will not always arrive conveniently during a moment of crisis. Even I, the sort of fellow who turns to books for comfort when the going gets tough, do not necessarily take well to radical reflections on the subtleties of ethics when I am in thrall to a turbulent passion.
If a grand change of attitude isn’t in the cards right now, there are other ways to diminish grief, at least for a time. When people are troubled, I am inclined to seek out answers for them, but answers are not always welcome while the pain is still so fresh.
I was a little slow to realize how friends find comfort in simply being listened to, and in knowing that they are not alone. We all share in the same human condition, for the creature gifted with reason is also strengthen by a consciousness of solidarity.
Furthermore, if it is too much to ponder the first principles, there is also a place for looking at the immediate consequences. While the situation may appear overwhelming, what actual good will come from feeling sorry for ourselves?
Any initial satisfaction from playing the victim quickly degrades into even greater suffering—it’s something like drinking to numb the pain, and then waking up with the worst hangover. There’s no need to be a philosopher to learn why dwelling upon the sadness only increases the sadness.
Finally, there will be cases, and usually the most critical ones, where the source of grief is genuinely what we would now call “an existential crisis”, a crippling realization of our own grievous moral failings. When this happens, it won’t help to say that fortune cannot truly harm us, because the evil is now rising up from within.
The fact is, of course, that we then become brutally aware of how we are the only ones who can fix ourselves, also from within. I can’t speak for what Cleanthes or Lycon intended, but the Stoics did argue that there could never properly be such a thing as a fitting or rational grief, since once we recognize why any human evil proceed from our own judgments, it is then within our power to remove them.
In other words, there can cease to be a problem, right there and then, when the problem can come or go by means of a voluntary choice. Nonetheless, the philosopher needs to remember that while the solution may be simple in theory, it is not always so easy in practice. The emotions are powerful, the habits are stubborn, and the courage of conviction is typically slow to fire up.
In both history and philosophy, Alcibiades is hard to figure out, a mess of seeming contradictions, yet surely that is reflective of the entire human condition. If he sank into despair when Socrates helped him to perceive his own weakness, he was just as confused as the rest of us. The process of self-healing will inevitably take some time and effort.
—Reflection written in 12/1998
IMAGE: Kristian Zahrtmann, Socrates and Alcibiades (1911)
Thursday, April 4, 2024
Wednesday, April 3, 2024
Stoic Snippets 234
Imagine every man who is grieved at anything or discontented to be like a pig which is sacrificed and kicks and screams.
Like this pig also is he who on his bed in silence laments the bonds in which we are held.
And consider that only to the rational animal is it given to follow voluntarily what happens; but simply to follow is a necessity imposed on all.
—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 10.28
Chuang Tzu 5.3
In Lû there was a cripple, called Shû-shan the Toeless, who came on his heels to see Kung-nì.
Kung-nì said to him, "By your want of circumspection in the past, Sir, you have incurred such a calamity—of what use is your coming to me now?"
Toeless said, "Through my ignorance of my proper business and taking too little care of my body, I came to lose my feet. But now I am come to you, still possessing what is more honorable than my feet, and which therefore I am anxious to preserve entire. There is nothing which Heaven does not cover, and nothing which Earth does not sustain; you, Master, were regarded by me as doing the part of Heaven and Earth—how could I know that you would receive me in such a way?"
Confucius rejoined, "I am but a poor creature. But why, my master, do you not come inside, where I will try to tell you what I have learned?"
When Toeless had gone out, Confucius said, "Be stimulated to effort, my disciples. This toeless cripple is still anxious to learn to make up for the evil of his former conduct—how much more should those be so whose conduct has been unchallenged!"
Toeless, however, told Lâo Tan of the interview, saying, "Khung Khiû, I apprehend, has not yet attained to be a Perfect man. What has he to do with keeping a crowd of disciples around him? He is seeking to have the reputation of being an extraordinary and marvelous man, and does not know that the Perfect man considers this to be as handcuffs and fetters to him."
Lâo Tan said, "Why did you not simply lead him to see the unity of life and death, and that the admissible and inadmissible belong to one category, so freeing him from his fetters? Would this be possible?"
Toeless said, "It is the punishment inflicted on him by Heaven. How can he be freed from it?"
Cicero, Tusculan Disputations 3.31
M. Here some people talk of moderate grief; but if such be natural, what occasion is there for consolation? For nature herself will determine, the measure of it: but if it depends on and is caused by opinion, the whole opinion should be destroyed.
I think that it has been sufficiently said, that grief arises from an opinion of some present evil, which includes this belief, that it is incumbent on us to grieve.
To this definition Zeno has added, very justly, that the opinion of this present evil should be recent. Now this word recent they explain thus: those are not the only recent things which happened a little while ago; but as long as there shall be any force, or vigor, or freshness in that imagined evil, so long it is entitled to the name of recent.
Take the case of Artemisia, the wife of Mausolus, King of Caria, who made that noble sepulcher at Halicarnassus; while she lived, she lived in grief, and died of it, being worn out by it, for that opinion was always recent with her: but you cannot call that recent which has already begun to decay through time.
Now the duty of a comforter is to remove grief entirely, to quiet it, or draw it off as much as you can, or else to keep it under, and prevent its spreading any further, and to divert one’s attention to other matters.
There are some who think, with Cleanthes, that the only duty of a comforter is to prove that what one is lamenting is by no means an evil.
Others, as the Peripatetics, prefer urging that the evil is not great.
Others, with Epicurus, seek to divert your attention from the evil to good.
Some think it sufficient to show that nothing has happened but what you had reason to expect; and this is the practice of the Cyrenaics.
But Chrysippus thinks that the main thing in comforting is, to remove the opinion from the person who is grieving, that to grieve is his bounden duty.
There are others who bring together all these various kinds of consolations, for people are differently affected; as I have done myself in my book On Consolation; for as my own mind was much disordered, I have attempted in that book to discover every method of cure.
But the proper season is as much to be attended to in the cure of the mind as of the body; as Prometheus in Aeschylus, on its being said to him,
“I think, Prometheus, you this tenet hold,
That all men’s reason should their rage control?”
answers,
“Yes, when one reason properly applies;
Ill-timed advice will make the storm but rise."
I think that it has been sufficiently said, that grief arises from an opinion of some present evil, which includes this belief, that it is incumbent on us to grieve.
To this definition Zeno has added, very justly, that the opinion of this present evil should be recent. Now this word recent they explain thus: those are not the only recent things which happened a little while ago; but as long as there shall be any force, or vigor, or freshness in that imagined evil, so long it is entitled to the name of recent.
Take the case of Artemisia, the wife of Mausolus, King of Caria, who made that noble sepulcher at Halicarnassus; while she lived, she lived in grief, and died of it, being worn out by it, for that opinion was always recent with her: but you cannot call that recent which has already begun to decay through time.
Now the duty of a comforter is to remove grief entirely, to quiet it, or draw it off as much as you can, or else to keep it under, and prevent its spreading any further, and to divert one’s attention to other matters.
There are some who think, with Cleanthes, that the only duty of a comforter is to prove that what one is lamenting is by no means an evil.
Others, as the Peripatetics, prefer urging that the evil is not great.
Others, with Epicurus, seek to divert your attention from the evil to good.
Some think it sufficient to show that nothing has happened but what you had reason to expect; and this is the practice of the Cyrenaics.
But Chrysippus thinks that the main thing in comforting is, to remove the opinion from the person who is grieving, that to grieve is his bounden duty.
There are others who bring together all these various kinds of consolations, for people are differently affected; as I have done myself in my book On Consolation; for as my own mind was much disordered, I have attempted in that book to discover every method of cure.
But the proper season is as much to be attended to in the cure of the mind as of the body; as Prometheus in Aeschylus, on its being said to him,
“I think, Prometheus, you this tenet hold,
That all men’s reason should their rage control?”
answers,
“Yes, when one reason properly applies;
Ill-timed advice will make the storm but rise."
—from Cicero, Tusculan Disputations 3.31
I notice how many people will assume that grief must inevitably be present, and they are willing to settle for a certain portion of sorrow that feels at least bearable. Yet if we grant that Nature has determined it to be so, what amount of our efforts could possibly minimize it? And if it is indeed within our power to restrict the very source of despair, why not choose to remove it entirely?
I have grown so accustomed to some degree of suffering that I can barely imagine a life without it, but is it possible I am selling myself short? Why tolerate living in a house where only one part is still falling down, when I have the tools at hand to repair it completely? In accepting why pain in life is certain, I need not go so far as to permit suffering to cripple me. The first will surely come, while the second is formed more by my judgments.
The amount of time that has passed since a loss matters less than the amount of worry I heap upon it, such that an experience from years ago can seem just as recent as one from yesterday. The disturbance is as close as the concern; once the opinion is modified, the anxiety diminishes.
I can read about Artemisia, how she built a massive tomb to mourn her departed husband, and how she was said to have mixed a bit of his ashes into her water every day, or I can also look among my friends and neighbors to see how mightily they struggle with bereavement. This calls for helping them to help themselves, instead of scolding them.
Even as the root cause of grief is in the estimation, the prudent man recognizes many different ways to soften the blow. Yes, while the Stoics were right to appeal to a deeper understanding of why the perceived evil is not really an evil at all, the proverbial toolbox should be stocked with a wide range of implements, each suited for a specific occasion.
With the Peripatetics, we can, at the very least, remind the sufferer why the hardship is not as overwhelming as it may seem. In the heat of the moment, few people will wish to hear how their entire worldview requires a complete overhaul, and that their accustomed measures of good and evil are inherently mistaken. One step at a time.
With the Epicureans, we can also diminish the pain of one emotion by contrasting it with the pleasure of another emotion, and though Cicero, along with Stoics, did not see this as a total cure, it can surely serve as a partial relief. What cannot be removed may still be made endurable.
With the Cyrenaics, we can increase an inner resolve by preparing ourselves for whatever may come, for a great part of distress comes from the shock of the unexpected. There is a good reason why soldiers are rigorously trained to always be at the ready Always keep one eye open.
Medicine for the body must be applied at the right time, in the right way, and in the right dosage—medicine for the soul is no different. The good doctor, or philosopher, is a master of employing several methods in diverse circumstances.
—Reflection written in 12/1998
IMAGE: Francesco Furini, Artemisia Prepares to Drink the Ashes of Her Husband, Mausolus (c. 1630)
Tuesday, April 2, 2024
Wisdom from the Early Cynics, Diogenes 28
Rhetoricians and all who talked for reputation Diogenes used to call "thrice human," meaning thereby "thrice wretched."
An ignorant rich man he used to call "the sheep with the golden fleece."
Seeing a notice on the house of a profligate, "To be sold," he said, "I knew well that after such surfeiting you would throw up the owner."
To a young man who complained of the number of people who annoyed him by their attentions he said, "Cease to hang out a sign of invitation."
Of a public bath which was dirty he said, "When people have bathed here, where are they to go to get clean?"
There was a stout musician whom everybody depreciated and Diogenes alone praised. When asked why, he said, "Because being so big, he yet sings to his lute and does not turn brigand."
—Diogenes Laërtius, 6.47
Wisdom from the Early Stoics, Zeno of Citium 68
Furthermore, the term Duty is applied to that for which, when done, a reasonable defense can be adduced, e.g. harmony in the tenor of life's process, which indeed pervades the growth of plants and animals. For even in plants and animals, they hold, you may discern fitness of behavior.
Zeno was the first to use this term καθῆκον of conduct. Etymologically it is derived from κατά τινας ἥκειν, i.e. reaching as far as, being up to, or incumbent on so and so.
And it is an action in itself adapted to nature's arrangements. For of the acts done at the prompting of impulse some, they observe, are fit and meet, others the reverse, while there is a third class which is neither the one nor the other.
Befitting acts are all those which reason prevails with us to do; and this is the case with honoring one's parents, brothers and country, and intercourse with friends.
Unbefitting, or contrary to duty, are all acts that reason deprecates, e.g. to neglect one's parents, to be indifferent to one's brothers, not to agree with friends, to disregard the interests of one's country, and so forth.
Acts which fall under neither of the foregoing classes are those which reason neither urges us to do nor forbids, such as picking up a twig, holding a style or a scraper, and the like.
Again, some duties are incumbent unconditionally, others in certain circumstances.
Unconditional duties are the following: to take proper care of health and one's organs of sense, and things of that sort.
Duties imposed by circumstances are such as maiming oneself and sacrifice of property.
And so likewise with acts which are violations of duty.
Another division is into duties which are always incumbent and those which are not.
To live in accordance with virtue is always a duty, whereas dialectic by question and answer or walking-exercise and the like are not at all times incumbent.
The same may be said of the violations of duty.
And in things intermediate also there are duties; as that boys should obey the attendants who have charge of them.
—Diogenes Laërtius, 7.107-110
IMAGE: Edward Leighton, Duty (1883)
Monday, April 1, 2024
Dhammapada 368
The Bhikshu who acts with kindness, who is calm in the doctrine of the Buddha, will reach the quiet place, cessation of natural desires, and happiness.
Cicero, Tusculan Disputations 3.30
M. But we will speak of this another time: at present it is sufficient not to attribute our misery to the loss of our friends, nor to love them more than, if they themselves could be sensible of our conduct, they would approve of, or at least not more than we do ourselves.
Now as to what they say, that some are not at all appeased by our consolations; and, moreover, as to what they add, that the comforters themselves acknowledge they are miserable when fortune varies the attack and falls on them—in both these cases the solution is easy: for the fault here is not in nature, but in our own folly; and much may be said against folly.
But men who do not admit of consolation seem to bespeak misery for themselves; and they who cannot bear their misfortunes with that temper which they recommend to others are not more faulty in this particular than most other persons; for we see that covetous men find fault with others who are covetous, as do the vainglorious with those who appear too wholly devoted to the pursuit of glory. For it is the peculiar characteristic of folly to perceive the vices of others, but to forget its own.
But since we find that grief is removed by length of time, we have the greatest proof that the strength of it depends not merely on time, but on the daily consideration of it. For if the cause continues the same, and the man be the same, how can there be any alteration in the grief, if there is no change in what occasioned the grief, nor in him who grieves?
Therefore, it is from daily reflecting that there is no real evil in the circumstance for which you grieve, and not from the length of time, that you procure a remedy for your grief.
Now as to what they say, that some are not at all appeased by our consolations; and, moreover, as to what they add, that the comforters themselves acknowledge they are miserable when fortune varies the attack and falls on them—in both these cases the solution is easy: for the fault here is not in nature, but in our own folly; and much may be said against folly.
But men who do not admit of consolation seem to bespeak misery for themselves; and they who cannot bear their misfortunes with that temper which they recommend to others are not more faulty in this particular than most other persons; for we see that covetous men find fault with others who are covetous, as do the vainglorious with those who appear too wholly devoted to the pursuit of glory. For it is the peculiar characteristic of folly to perceive the vices of others, but to forget its own.
But since we find that grief is removed by length of time, we have the greatest proof that the strength of it depends not merely on time, but on the daily consideration of it. For if the cause continues the same, and the man be the same, how can there be any alteration in the grief, if there is no change in what occasioned the grief, nor in him who grieves?
Therefore, it is from daily reflecting that there is no real evil in the circumstance for which you grieve, and not from the length of time, that you procure a remedy for your grief.
—from Cicero, Tusculan Disputations 3.30
With Cicero, I will not dwell upon the error of making the value of our own lives depend entirely on the presence of those we love; I have already spilled enough ink on the matter, and it is only important to walk away from such a disaster by recognizing why a healthy love will never require self-sabotage.
It is indeed true that many of us will not respond well to any comforting, and that many of us will expect others to recover from grief while we remain forlorn about our own losses, yet this in no way indicates that Nature herself is the cause of our desperation. It is easier and more convenient to blame the arrangement of the whole world than to make even the slightest adjustment within our own hearts and minds, though the effort required for the latter is actually far less than the gloom that follows from the former.
No, I must blame my own folly. This is a wonderful word, sadly ignored in our day, since it pinpoints how we neglect a clarity of thinking in favor of rushing headlong into the first feelings to come our way.
We are quick to blame people for being either insane or stupid, even as folly is neither of these, and it is much more common. The madman has lost control over his reason, and the idiot has a limited capacity to reason, but the fool is quite able to think for himself, and he nevertheless chooses to do otherwise. While there is no fault in the lunatic or the imbecile, there is great fault in the man of folly.
At the same time, we also insist on the saying about time healing all wounds, forgetting, however, the reasons why this happens to be true. It is the amount of deliberate attention we apply to our grief, not the days, weeks, months, or years that may have passed from the moment of the loss. We suffer less as we gradually change our attitudes, not just by the ticking of the clock.
I have often wondered why I grapple with a sense of betrayal long after the original event, and why others seem to recover from such a shock in a heartbeat. Yes, the intensity of the experience surely has something to do with it, but the bigger issue is my unwillingness to live and to learn. I can maintain an informed conscience and still have sufficient confidence in my power to stand against Fortune.
With Cicero, I will not dwell upon the error of making the value of our own lives depend entirely on the presence of those we love; I have already spilled enough ink on the matter, and it is only important to walk away from such a disaster by recognizing why a healthy love will never require self-sabotage.
It is indeed true that many of us will not respond well to any comforting, and that many of us will expect others to recover from grief while we remain forlorn about our own losses, yet this in no way indicates that Nature herself is the cause of our desperation. It is easier and more convenient to blame the arrangement of the whole world than to make even the slightest adjustment within our own hearts and minds, though the effort required for the latter is actually far less than the gloom that follows from the former.
No, I must blame my own folly. This is a wonderful word, sadly ignored in our day, since it pinpoints how we neglect a clarity of thinking in favor of rushing headlong into the first feelings to come our way.
We are quick to blame people for being either insane or stupid, even as folly is neither of these, and it is much more common. The madman has lost control over his reason, and the idiot has a limited capacity to reason, but the fool is quite able to think for himself, and he nevertheless chooses to do otherwise. While there is no fault in the lunatic or the imbecile, there is great fault in the man of folly.
At the same time, we also insist on the saying about time healing all wounds, forgetting, however, the reasons why this happens to be true. It is the amount of deliberate attention we apply to our grief, not the days, weeks, months, or years that may have passed from the moment of the loss. We suffer less as we gradually change our attitudes, not just by the ticking of the clock.
I have often wondered why I grapple with a sense of betrayal long after the original event, and why others seem to recover from such a shock in a heartbeat. Yes, the intensity of the experience surely has something to do with it, but the bigger issue is my unwillingness to live and to learn. I can maintain an informed conscience and still have sufficient confidence in my power to stand against Fortune.
—Reflection written in 12/1998
IMAGE: Quentin Matsys, An Allegory of Folly (c. 1510)
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