From Epictetus to Seneca

The account of The Handbook is complete. As promised, the blog will continue with  reflections concerning Seneca's On the Happy Life. Many thanks to those of you who kept reading.We will keep that Milburn absurdity going as long as possible. . .

Epictetus, The Handbook 68: Within My Power

On every occasion we must have these thoughts at hand,

'Lead me, O Zeus, and lead me, Destiny,

Whither ordained is by your decree.

I'll follow, doubting not, or if with will

Recreant I falter, I shall follow still.'

-Cleanthes of Assos

'Who rightly with necessity complies

In things divine we count him skilled and wise.'

-Euripides, Fragment 965

'Well, Crito, if this be the gods’ will, so be it.'

-Plato, Crito, 43d

'Anytus and Meletus have power to put me to death, but not to harm me.'

-Plato, Apology, 30c

—Epictetus, The Handbook, Chapter 53 (tr Matheson)

The Handbook ends with these four quotations, and I suggest that we will only understand them, and why Epictetus chose them, if we apply the overall lesson of the entire text, a reflection upon the things in our power.

Appeals to the gods and to fate would often leave me cold, perhaps because they placed all things in forces I could not perceive, or perhaps because they made me look irrelevant in the order of all things. Indeed, it often seemed that being subsumed into an impersonal whole, left powerless and without hope, was the root of so many of my troubles. Whenever things didn't go the way I wanted, I would far too readily wallow in despair.

There seemed to only be two options, to conquer the world or to be conquered by the world. Either it would have to be all about me, or I would have to be completely useless and disposable. The selfishness of the former disgusted me, and the pain of the latter terrified me.

The go-getters and achievers told me I needed to shape all other things to my will, and to never look back. This was sadly the attitude of the lost love of my life.

Fatalists, often of a certain religious sort, told me I just needed to blindly surrender myself to God, and to take my hands off the wheel. This was sadly the attitude of my lost friends during the Wilderness Years.

As is so often the case, I did not see the mean between the extremes. Stoicism helped me to understand that my own choices and actions did not exist apart from the order of all things, but rather existed within that order.

I began to see that the plan of Nature, of Providence, of God, in whatever way you wish to conceive it, was not something distant or invisible. I could see it right in front of me each and every day, in the simple fact that all things act for purpose, and that all situations and events have immediate meaning, if only we so choose to recognize it.

I began to see that my own existence was hardly insignificant, and no more or less important than anything else on the face of this Earth. Yet I only grasped this when I saw all the parts in harmony with the whole, instead of opposing the parts and the whole. I did not need to be forced, kicking and screaming, into the fullness of all things as they were. I could instead give my free and joyful “yes” to the world, and then also agree to assist in that wonderful beauty.

Destiny did not exclude me. Destiny had always been inviting me to share myself through my own choice. Providence was never a static thing, but a constant unfolding, and each of us has a part that is asked of us.

Zeus, for Cleanthes the personification of Providence, never trampled on my freedom. Instead, he asked me to share in his power. I could learn to work with things, and not against them, while still being my own master. In my own daily thinking, this became something akin to a Tao of Stoicism.

If and when, especially when, I fail, out of my selfishness or cowardice, new pathways always reveal themselves. These are not written in the distant heavens, but to be found in the most immediate and humble ways. When I am too angry, Nature provides me direct means to find peace. When I feel hate, Nature offers me myriad ways to love. When I abandon hope, Nature always throws me a lifeline.

Even when I struggle and squirm, and I continue to resist, my very resistance becomes, by wonderful means, an opportunity for the greater good. The greater good need never exclude the lower, but it will always find a way to include it.

When Socrates tells us that we must accept the will of the gods, he is not advocating defeatism. What seems to some such a great weakness is, in fact, a much greater strength. I need only return to the opening chapter of The Handbook. It is when I can distinguish between what is rightly within my power, and what is rightly outside of it, that I will find my proper place.

The world will unfold as it will unfold. I do not always immediately know why it does so, but my reason can determine that it is always for a purpose. Nature does not act in vain. It isn’t my place to be a ruler of Nature, but to be a participant in Nature.

This is exactly why Socrates understood that Anytus and Meletus could never harm him, even if they could kill him. I must be willing to surrender anything and everything that is beyond my power, but I can never lose that one piece, that essential piece, that is exclusively mine. You may choose to be a bad man, but you will never force me to be a bad man. Nature is invincible, and I am also invincible, whenever I freely share in Nature. That is within my power. 

Written in 4/1998 

Epictetus, The Handbook 67: Bungling the Order

The first and most necessary department of philosophy deals with the application of principles; for instance, 'not to lie'.

The second deals with demonstrations; for instance, 'How comes it that one ought not to lie?'

The third is concerned with establishing and analyzing these processes; for instance, 'How comes it that this is a demonstration? What is demonstration, what is consequence, what is contradiction, what is true, what is false?'

It follows then that the third department is necessary because of the second, and the second because of the first. The first is the most necessary part, and that in which we must rest.

But we reverse the order: we occupy ourselves with the third, and make that our whole concern, and the first we completely neglect. Wherefore we lie, but are ready enough with the demonstration that lying is wrong.

—Epictetus, The Handbook, Chapter 52 (tr Matheson)

One need not have suffered through the world of academia to have experienced this travesty. In education, in politics, in law, or in business, we love discussing the ideas, whether they are the right ideas, and all the possible reasons why they might be the right ideas. We hold colloquiums, we have conferences, we publish reputable articles, we hire experts and consultants, and through all of this we are neglecting the primary goal. What is the use of the idea if it isn’t going to be lived and practiced?

I suppose it is easier to think about what is right, than to actually do what is right. It is indeed essential to understand why something is true, and also to have a deeper sense of what even defines the truth itself. These are necessary and noble endeavors. I can hardly do the what without knowing the why. This does not excuse me to ponder the why without ever doing the what.

We are prone to bungling the order of life, and we give so much more priority to the thinking and talking about the truth than we give to the exercise of truth. Thinking exists for the sake of living, and living does not exist for the sake of thinking.

We can immediately identify the fraud and the charlatan, the typical hypocrite, because he will inevitably speak on all of his thoughts about virtue, but you will not actually see him practicing those virtues.

An old corny academic joke is that those who cannot do, teach. Those who cannot teach, teach others how to teach. Those who cannot teach others how to teach, become administrators. Those who cannot administer, are made members of the Board. I challenge you to find a single walk of life where the norm is any different.

Philosophy is, rightly understood, not a mere intellectual exercise, because it requires applying all that theory into concrete practice. The end is superior to the means. Don’t just tell me what you think, but show me how you live. 

Written in 11/2002

Epictetus, The Handbook 66: Where the Rubber Meets the Road

How long will you wait to think yourself worthy of the highest and transgress in nothing the clear pronouncement of reason? You have received the precepts that you ought to accept, and you have accepted them.

Why then do you still wait for a master, that you may delay the amendment of yourself till he comes? You are a youth no longer, you are now a full-grown man. If now you are careless and indolent and are always putting off, fixing one day after another as the limit when you mean to begin attending to yourself, then, living or dying, you will make no progress but will continue unawares in ignorance.

Therefore make up your mind before it is too late to live as one who is mature and proficient, and let all that seems best to you be a law that you cannot transgress. And if you encounter anything troublesome or pleasant or glorious or inglorious, remember that the hour of struggle is come, the Olympic contest is here and you may put off no longer, and that one day and one action determines whether the progress you have achieved is lost or maintained.

This was how Socrates attained perfection, paying heed to nothing but reason, in all that he encountered. And if you are not yet Socrates, yet ought you to live as one who would wish to be a Socrates.

—Epictetus, The Handbook, Chapter 51 (tr Matheson)

I was often quite confused about this mysterious process of “growing up” we were all supposed to be doing over the years. I still remember all the catch phrases, learning to be responsible and productive, or becoming someone who contributed and made a difference. My own college liked to speak about “serving others,” but I was often troubled that I didn’t see much of that.

I remembered how often we were inclined to selfishly serve ourselves as children, bragging and showing off to others, but too many of us still seemed to be doing much the same thing in our now adult professional lives. The trappings were different, but the game was normally the same, from the schoolyard to the conference room.

I did indeed find people who were doing some genuine growing up, who were transforming the very order of their lives, though they were not sold to us as the role models we should follow. The people who did inspire me were not interested in winning by dying with the most toys. They didn’t seek to rule fortune, to acquire power and position, but they simply sought to rule themselves. That process of growing up had never been just about raising the stakes in the game, but changing the very rules of the game.

The terms we use may sound the same, but the meaning is radically different. Responsibility is not having power over others, but having power over oneself. Productivity is measured not in the profit of wealth, but in the profit of character. Contributing is not giving to be seen as giving, but giving for its own sake. Making a difference is not being esteemed and remembered, but serving as a quiet example.

I have long suspected that most of us know exactly what we must do to live well. Genuine commitment, where the rubber meets the road, does not require heroic strength or superhuman ability. “Aqaba is over there. It’s only a matter of going.” I may wish to delay, to hedge my bets, to drain as much selfish gratification from life before I have to set things right. I must also remember that each and every moment could already be well too late to change course.

I once read a journal article on business ethics that argued how Socrates would have been the best captain of industry in our time, because he knew how to engage his customers, and he knew how to sell his product. I could only shake my head, because Socrates never saw his fellow men as customers, and he never had anything at all to sell. He had friends, and he wanted to share the true, the good, and the beautiful with them. That is why he was a grown-up. 

Written in 4/2007

Epictetus, The Handbook 65: Sticking to Convictions

Whatever principles you put before you, hold fast to them as laws that it will be impious to transgress.

But pay no heed to what any one says of you; for this is something beyond your own control.

—Epictetus, The Handbook, Chapter 50 (tr Matheson)

We need not yet argue the specifics of such principles, and we can, for the moment, put aside all the arguments as to why they are good. At the very least, we should know that if we believe our principles to be right, we should also believe that we are bound by them.

Yet observe how difficult even such a conviction can be for us. I may hold that principle in high esteem, and consider it not a burden, but an honor, to obey at all times, yet there then seem to be those moments when I abandon such an inviolable measure for something else.

In my own experience, I have done this not because I don’t care for the moral standard, but rather because something else seems more important to me right then and there. That something is almost invariably a convenient or tempting circumstance.

This is exactly why Epictetus follows his praise of the respect for the moral law with a warning about listening to what others may say, or what they may do, or caring about anything else that is beyond our control. I will violate my own conscience and abandon my own convictions whenever I believe that I can make my conditions conform to my preferences.

But of course I cannot really give myself what is not within my power to give, and all I’ve done is trade my own virtue for a vain sense of utility. I will love the principle only until it is easier to ignore it, and care more for all the externals.

Most of us would likely say that honesty, for example, is a noble principle to follow. So many people I have spoken to over the years will claim that we should always tell the truth, because a man is no better than his word.

Then come the modifications and exceptions. Well, perhaps I shouldn’t tell the truth if it hurts someone’s feelings, or makes them uncomfortable or angry, or if it might cost me my job or makes me unpopular. After all, sometimes telling the truth will be very hard on us, and a few little lies here and there will make things easier.

Once we make excuses like that for ourselves, we are caring more for our circumstances than our characters. The principle isn’t really a measure of ruling our choices at all, because it becomes relative to how comfortable it may be. This is hardly Stoic, and it is hardly a life that looks to our own actions as the standard of our merit.

I should be honest with others, and hold it as a principle, out or respect for their right to know what properly concerns them, just as I would demand that same respect in return. That the truth will sometimes be difficult can always be tempered by the very love that inspires such honesty. I can teach myself to hold to the dignity of a principle when I remember to worry first and foremost for the excellence of my own action, regardless of what the world may throw back at me.

Many years ago, I knew someone who insisted that trust and commitment were at the root of friendship, but this person was quite often extremely dishonest and unreliable. My own frustrations could only be held at bay when I attempted to understand the thinking, however misguided, behind such a seeming contradiction. The principle would give way to external convenience, and I could hardly say I had never done the same myself.

Over the decades, my work would time and time again bring me face to face with the ugliness of sexual abuse. I would grow angry at the hypocrisy of the perpetrators, and even angrier at the cowardice of the enablers. Again, I have always needed to remember that I rule only my own principles and actions. This means that the only way I can try to make up for the wrongs of others is to strive for justice and courage myself. I will only fail if I compromise my conscience for comfort. 

Written in 6/2012

Image: JHW Tischbein, Diogenes Looking for an Honest Man (c. 1780)

Epictetus, The Handbook 64: Inclined to Blush

When a man prides himself on being able to understand and interpret the books of Chrysippus, say to yourself, 'If Chrysippus had not written obscurely this man would have had nothing on which to pride himself.

What is my object? To understand Nature and follow her. I look then for some one who interprets her, and having heard that Chrysippus does I come to him.

But I do not understand his writings, so I seek an interpreter. So far there is nothing to be proud of. But when I have found the interpreter it remains for me to act on his precepts; that and that alone is a thing to be proud of. But if I admire the mere power of exposition, it comes to this—that I am turned into a grammarian instead of a philosopher, except that I interpret Chrysippus in place of Homer.

Therefore, when some one says to me, 'Read me Chrysippus', when I cannot point to actions which are in harmony and correspondence with his teaching, I am rather inclined to blush.

—Epictetus, The Handbook, Chapter 49 (tr Matheson)

Chrysippus was the third leader of the Stoic school in Athens, following Zeno of Citium and Cleanthes. We have only very brief fragments, and some secondary accounts, about what these great men had to say. The rest has been lost to history. As a bookish fellow who enjoys browsing through dusty old manuscripts, this makes me sad. Imagine what I could learn if I only had the manuscripts of the early Stoics?

Yet I must ask myself how much I care for books, and how much I care for truth. Do I care more for the posturing and profit that comes from interpreting a text, or the practice that comes from living what that text has to tell me?

My own sad experience was with what I called the ‘Panzer Thomists’, those who were so interested in the ironclad beauty of the writing of St. Thomas Aquinas that they forgot all about the doing. I’ve seen it elsewhere, of course, from the myriad contorted literalist or symbolic readings of Sacred Scriptures, to the petty political arguments about the United States Constitution, to the ways that the bylaws of a non-profit organization are twisted in order to make money.

As soon as you and I worry more about the words than about what the words signify, we are both completely lost. Please do not tell me that it’s all about the words. Words mean things, and they can be both used and abused.

I should worry less about the writer, or someone who has the knack to interpret the writer, than what I can learn about the actual true and the good from the writing.

I was once running a hiring committee for a new faculty member, and the thought of that disturbs me just as much as it should disturb you. The candidate taught a class for our students on the Catholic doctrine of the Real Presence in the Eucharist. His solution was taken word for word from the Summa Theologica, and I admired the thoroughness with which he had done his homework.

After he taught the class, during dinner, I asked him to explain the position in his own words. He once again parroted the text. I told him I wanted to understand what the text meant, and I raised certain questions I had about the relationship of substance and accident. He looked like a deer in headlights.

“Well, I just explained it. That’s what St. Thomas says.”

“Yes, I know what St. Thomas says. I’m asking you to explain it to me, and I want to grasp the issue. Assume I’m a complete idiot, and give me the truth of it as even an idiot could understand.”

He smiled and nodded, thinking he knew what I was asking for. I was then given a list of memorized references from St. Augustine and the Catholic Catechism. He smugly sat back, entirely comfortable that he had done exactly what I had asked of him.

He had, of course, done nothing of the sort. Quoting sources does not tell me that you understand anything, and it tells me only that you have studied the sources. A parrot, as amusing as he may be, is not the same thing as a man.

I always wanted to understand what Plato and Aristotle had to write, because what they wrote was a means to understanding the truth. No, I was told, it must be filtered through the commentators and interpreters, because they understood it better.

Even then, I was told not to read the interpreters, but I should read only those trendy contemporary philosophers who posed in fancy pictures, and who told me I could never understand the Classics until I read their books.

It is time to stop the madness. I am very glad you wrote a book to get your academic promotion, and I wish you the best. I will also not contest that you have chosen the latest ‘-ism’ to make yourself popular.

But never, ever, tell me that I cannot be wise or good because your most recent best-selling book is not a part of my life. I have chosen to care for the content, and you have chosen to care for the presentation.

Don’t tell me that you can explicate Chrysippus. Show me the truths he taught, in the beauty of your actions. 

Written in 4/2015

Essence

All those years of studying the metaphysics of Aristotle and St. Thomas Aquinas were never wasted, because they helped me to understand the distinction between a substance, something that exists in itself, and an accident, something that exists in another thing.

I am a particular human being in substance, who will undergo many accidental changes in his life. I will be young or old, rich or poor, alone or in company. I may act in different ways, or be acted upon in different ways. I may be in one place or another, and in one time or another. But I will always remain a human being throughout all these different conditions, as long as I live.

The related concept of essence is hardly obscure or mysterious. It is simply the identity that many particular substances share in common. It isn't my humanity, or your humanity. It is the mutual humanity we all participate in. My own specific being is mine, but our universal identity is what binds us all together. We both have something that is distinctly our own, while at the same time something that belongs to both of us. It is the principle that unites us.

All of our living can benefit from this insight. I need not look only to my being and benefit, or only to your being and benefit. Humanity is by definition an inclusive, and not an exclusive, concept.  This is why love is the law for a creature gifted with reason and choice.

Over the years, I have grown to care less if I can explain such things through scholarship. I have grown also to consider how such things can help me to live and love with excellence. All of the theory will be useless if it is not actually experienced and practiced.

I look at myself, and I usually don't see much of anything at all. I then look at all my many neighbors in this whole wide world, however similar or different they may appear, however appealing or unappealing they seem to me, and I perceive essence.

You and I are not defined by our accidents. You and I do indeed live as distinct substances. But all those billions of substances share in a common essence. This can be one of the most comforting thoughts there could ever be.

Marillion, "Essence",  from Happiness is the Road (2008)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZWhpWziEOEk

Tell you what I want
Essence
Tell you what I need
Essence
What I'm looking for
Essence

Sit in silence close your eyes, feel the magic everywhere inside you
Fingers toes head heart and soul, connected deep to every living thing
Not just the taste, the touch, the smell
Or the face you know so well
Not the 400 word description
The book, the film, the faithful depiction
Get out of here
Get out while you can
Choose life, strive for essence

Choose life, Choose living
Choose life, Choose living
Go digging, Go digging
Go digging, Go digging
Go digging for essence
for Essence
for Essence

Sit in silence and watch the sky
Feel the magic deep inside you
Every woman and every man
Turn off your mind and you'll understand

Sit in silence and watch the sky yeah
Feel the energy inside outside

Ain't one damn thing means a thing in this life
til you get close to Essence, til you try
Every man and woman listen to me, hey
Live in the moment or you'll never be free

Essence
Essence
Essence

Choose life, Choose essence

Written in 1/2009

Epictetus, The Handbook 63: My Own Worst Enemy

The ignorant man's position and character is this: he never looks to himself for benefit or harm, but to the world outside him. The philosopher's position and character is that he always looks to himself for benefit and harm.

The signs of one who is making progress are: he blames none, praises none, complains of none, accuses none, never speaks of himself as if he were somebody, or as if he knew anything. And if any one compliments him he laughs in himself at his compliment; and if one blames him, he makes no defense.

He goes about like a convalescent, careful not to disturb his constitution on its road to recovery, until it has got firm hold. He has got rid of the will to get, and his will to avoid is directed no longer to what is beyond our power but only to what is in our power and contrary to nature.

In all things he exercises his will without strain. If men regard him as foolish or ignorant he pays no heed. In one word, he keeps watch and guard on himself as his own enemy, lying in wait for him.

—Epictetus, The Handbook, Chapter 48 (tr Matheson)

I’ve been reading fancy philosophy for quite some time, but it was only more recently that I started to see what all those fine words meant in the regular practice of life. I think especially about my estimation of happiness, and the measure of what I think to be good or bad in life.

If the world gave me nice things, I felt happy, and if it took all the nice things away, I felt miserable. I could swing wildly from ecstasy to agony at a moment’s notice, and it finally sank in that there was something very wrong here. I began to notice that a dependence on pleasant circumstances made my character weaker, and then when those pleasant circumstances were replaced with unpleasant ones, that character was so atrophied that I was crushed under the weight. I wasn’t making the right choices when the world was going as I wanted it to, because the world was really doing all the leading and directing. Now I no longer knew how to lead and direct myself when those false edifices fell away.

For a time, I thought that the ignorant man was also a lazy man, because he depended on things other than himself. I also learned, however, that the lover of circumstances may work very hard at getting what he wants, and that the problem isn’t how much effort we put into something, but toward what end we direct that effort. Working with complete dedication to get the world to conform to me is just as foolish as doing nothing at all and expecting the world to conform to me. My weakness is simply in looking outward, and not inward, for benefit or harm.

The reason a good man never offers praise or blame to others is not because there is no such thing as responsibility, but because he recognizes that he needs to be accountable to himself. The reason a good man cares nothing for praise or blame from others is not because he is cold and heartless, but because he recognizes that he must never define himself through their judgment.

The very desire to get and to avoid must be radically transformed, to learn to accept the world as it will be, and to concern myself only with my own desires, thoughts, and actions.

I had often thought that holding on tight to all the right people as my friends would bring me benefits, and blocking off all the wrong people as my enemies would keep me from harm. Yet how people will come and go, or how any circumstances will come and go, has never been under my control, and I am following a path of ignorance when I allow these things to rule me.

I am the one who will determine what is good and evil in myself, and therefore the only author of my happiness or misery. I will either be my own best friend, or my own worst enemy. I should hold up a mirror instead of pointing the finger. 

Written in 10/1995

Epictetus, The Handbook 62: Embracing Statues

When you have adopted the simple life, do not pride yourself upon it, and if you are a water-drinker do not say on every occasion, 'I am a water-drinker.'

And if you ever want to train laboriously, keep it to yourself and do not make a show of it.

Do not embrace statues.

If you are very thirsty take a good draught of cold water, and rinse you mouth and tell no one.

—Epictetus, The Handbook, Chapter 47 (tr Matheson)

I learned very quickly that there was an inverse proportion between how much someone wanted to live well, and how much he wanted to be seen to be living well. I also think it true that while the desire for a good life is content with simplicity, the desire for recognition craves complexity.

Ask a good man what he does every day, and he might shrug his shoulders, and perhaps even tell you that he simply does his best to live with dignity and decency. Ask the self-important man, and he will drop one reference after another to all of his conquests. Be prepared, because the self-important man will go on for some time, while masking his self-love with the appearance of service. He would not care to do what he does if he can’t brag about it.

Consider the man who wishes to be healthy, so he eats well. Now consider the man who wishes to be seen as eating well, and he never misses the opportunity to tell you all about it, complete with a thorough account of his brilliant diet and exercise plan. He will be certain to remind you what a sacrifice it has all been, but if you only followed his model, you could be as great as him.

The first time I read this passage, many years ago, I had no idea what Epictetus meant about embracing statues. I could only think of those certain folks who enter a Catholic church, and go through that elaborate ritual of appearing devout, genuflecting, sprinkling themselves with holy water, and parading down the aisle with their hands pressed together, not forgetting to stop at every side altar to light another candle.

It turned out the reference was to Diogenes the Cynic, who apparently made it a point to hug statues while naked in the middle of winter. Now the Cynics were close cousins to the Stoics, but the Cynics were sometimes more severe, and they became masters of what we would now call performance art. I’d like to think that Diogenes intended this as a teaching moment, but Epictetus will apparently have none of it. Once you intend to show, you are showing off.

I need to bite my own tongue many times a day, because I feel tempted to draw attention to myself, and I realize that what I want to say will not help someone else, but will only inflate my ego. I have great respect for a man from our local VFW, who I know to be a genuine war hero, and whenever the braggarts start talking about their noble deeds, he just sits quietly and smokes his cigar. The others could not hold a candle to what he did, but he doesn’t care. He lets them rant, and he doesn’t even roll his eyes in disgust.

I was taught something similar as a child, in my own particular Roman Catholic tradition, from Matthew 6: 1-6: 

Beware of practicing your piety before men in order to be seen by them; for then you will have no reward from your Father who is in heaven.

Thus, when you give alms, sound no trumpet before you, as the hypocrites do in the synagogues and in the streets, that they may be praised by men.

Truly, I say to you, they have received their reward.  But when you give alms, do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing, so that your alms may be in secret; and your Father who sees in secret will reward you.

And when you pray, you must not be like the hypocrites; for they love to stand and pray in the synagogues and at the street corners, that they may be seen by men.

 Truly, I say to you, they have received their reward.  But when you pray, go into your room and shut the door and pray to your Father who is in secret; and your Father who sees in secret will reward you.

Written in 2/2012

Image: Jules Bastien-Lepage, Diogenes (1873)

 

Marillion: Living in FEAR

Stoicism is a philosophy of peace. You will never find a Stoic telling you how eager he is to destroy his enemies, or how excited he is to exact vengeance.

But surely, if I don't fight my enemies as they fight me, I will lose, and I will die?

I may die, but I will not lose. I must protect what is right, defend the innocent, and demand justice wherever I go. I will indeed fight. But once I play by the rules of the aggressor, I am no longer the victim. I have now just become another agressor.

All of us will die, at one point or another. I care only that I do so with a sense of love, and never of hate.

As I drift into the end of things, Marillion, as always, reminds me of what I need to know.

Marillion, "Living in FEAR", from F.E.A.R . (2016)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ggPB8O-OJNg

Our wide eyes
Aren't naive
They're a product of a conscious decision
The welcoming smile is the new Cool
The key left in the outside of the unlocked door
Isn't forgetfulness
It's a challenge to change your heart
There's always a price to pay
Living in f e a r is so very dear
Can you really afford it?

We've decided to risk melting our guns as a show of strength
We've decided to risk melting our guns as a show of strength
As a show of strength

Our wide eyes are not so weak
They're a product of a hard-won wisdom
So we will turn the other cheek
The apple pie cooling on the windowsill
Is such a welcome change from
Living in f e a r
Year after year after year
Can we really afford it?
Can you really afford it?

We have decided to start melting our guns as a show of strength
As a show of strength
We decided to leave the doors unlocked, our face unlocked
As a show of strength

We're not green
We're just pleasant
We're not green
We're just pleasant
We're not green
We've decided to start melting our guns as a show of strength

Our wide eyes aren't naive
They're a product of a kind of exhaustion
Will there come a time when we believe
The only way ahead is to put down our arms
When we finally know
The bitter consequence of not doing so
There's such a price to pay
For living this way
Living this way

We don't invite crime
We don't invite crime

Will you let one lost soul change what we stand for?
I don't think so

What a waste of time
The Great Wall of China
What a waste of time
The Maginot line
The Great Wall of China
Chto za trata vremeni
Berlinskaya stena
What a waste of time
Die Berliner Mauer
What a waste of time
What a waste of time

Written in 12/2016

Epictetus, The Handbook 61: Digesting, Not Displaying

On no occasion call yourself a philosopher, nor talk at large of your principles among the multitude, but act on your principles.

For instance, at a banquet do not say how one ought to eat, but eat as you ought. Remember that Socrates had so completely got rid of the thought of display that when men came and wanted an introduction to philosophers he took them to be introduced; so patient of neglect was he.

And if a discussion arises among the multitude on some principle, keep silent for the most part; for you are in great danger of blurting out some undigested thought.

And when some one says to you, 'You know nothing', and you do not let it provoke you, then know that you are really on the right road.

For sheep do not bring grass to their shepherds and show them how much they have eaten, but they digest their fodder and then produce it in the form of wool and milk. Do the same yourself; instead of displaying your principles to the multitude, show them the results of the principles you have digested.

—Epictetus, The Handbook, Chapter 46 (tr Matheson)

I am sometimes worried that I am a half-Stoic, a pseudo-Stoic if you will, because I understand and embrace every single word that Epictetus writes here, but I still need to wake up every single day, and fail a dozen times in their application for every one time I get it right.

Such a concern is, of course, a part of the symptoms, and a not part of the cure. I fret that I’ve messed it up yet again, forgetting completely that there is no secret formula to doing it right. I am the only obstacle. The only thing that gets in my way is when I am still clutching at an obsession with all the circumstances. All I need to do is to change my thinking and my action, right here and now, and care nothing for the rest. I only fail to be Stoic in my living when I choose to care about all the things a Stoic need not care for.

I am the only one allowing myself to be prodded, poked, and provoked by my apparent place in the world. As soon as I worry about being thought a fool, it is my decision right there that has actually made me a fool.

When I was a child, I was regularly subject to bullying. When I was getting older, I was distraught that people I loved so dearly didn’t love me in return. These things do indeed hurt mightily. For myself, a great moral goal I now know to aim for is not to define myself by what others have said and done. I consider this the growing up part of the deal.

One of the things that made Socrates a great philosopher was that he never wanted to be perceived as one. He told us that the what made him wise was how he knew that he knew nothing, yet he also described himself as the greatest gift given to Athens.

For a Stoic, there is no contradiction here at all. It is only genuine humility, not the false sort of the wolf in sheep’s clothing, that can make us great. Socrates knew who he was, and he knew what he had to offer to his friends. Whether they chose to listen, or chose to praise him, was not what defined him. One might say that he was unpopular precisely because he did not care to be popular.

It’s those moments when I do not feel hurt by an insult, or I do not feel rejected by a slight, or I do not feel destroyed by a betrayal, that help to me to know I’m on exactly the right track.

At the moments when I am about to break down, I sometimes think about an odd phrase, “Epictetus and the sheep.” Sheep may seem so lowly, but they are also so glorious. One of the greatest moments of my youth was simply spending time with some Herdwick sheep in the Lake District.  What wonderful creatures they were, very much like ourselves, easily frightened by some things, yet also so willing to follow and to serve for all the right things.

Sheep never brag about how much grass they have eaten, but they give of their fine wool. Now if only we could all do the same, and not brag about what we have consumed, but rather humbly offer what we can.

Your fancy posturing will never impress me, but your right actions most certainly will. How wonderful that those who care the least about being loved are exactly the ones who deserve our love. 

Written in 6/1993

Image: Jacques-Philip-Joseph de Saint-Quentin, The Death of Socrates (1762)

Epictetus, The Handbook 60: Quick to Judge

If a man washes quickly, do not say that he washes badly, but that he washes quickly.

 If a man drinks much wine, do not say that he drinks badly, but that he drinks much.

For until you have decided what judgment prompts him, how do you know that he acts badly?

If you do as I say, you will assent to your apprehensive impressions and to none other.

—Epictetus, The Handbook, Chapter 45 (tr Matheson)

Being quick to judge is never the same as making sound judgments. It is about making those sloppy judgments we have absolutely no right to make.

An old college professor I loved dearly had a habit that would now be considered completely unacceptable. While in his office, he always had a small tumbler of whiskey and ice near at hand, and he would sip at it regularly during the day. Those who disliked him, whether it was because they received less of a grade than they thought they deserved, or because they disagreed with his values, were very quick to label him a drunk.

I knew him very well, and he was never a drunk. He liked his whiskey, and he surely must have drunk quite a bit of it, but his mind was always as sharp as a blade. It was entirely right to say that he drank, but it was a leap to say that he drank too much. I’m told Winston Churchill was much the same.

Let us describe things as they are, and not how we would wish them to be for our own satisfaction.

I briefly worked with a wonderful young lady, as kind and as decent a one as you could find, but she would sometimes have a noticeable body odor. Her enemies immediately made this a matter of her character, and would regularly mention it, behind her back, of course, as a way to put her down. What they did not know was that this was a side effect of a medication she had to take for a chronic illness.

I once sadly lost my temper at one of these people, and pointed out that very reason.

“Well how could I possibly have known?”

“You never needed to know, because it isn’t any of your darn business. So you don’t like how she smells sometimes, but whatever you add to that is just on you. Which one is worse, the way she smells or the way you are thinking?”

People who don’t smile aren’t always grumpy, people who dress extravagantly aren’t always rich, and people who don’t look you in the eye aren’t always shifty. They just don’t smile, they dress in a fancy manner, or they look the other way. Let us never assume the cause from the effect without good reason, as we do not always understand all the thinking, motive, and circumstance that goes behind what we do see. 

Written in 8/2010

 

June Tabor and The Oyster Band: Dives and Lazarus

 In reference to Epictetus 59:

This has long been one of my favorite English folk songs, and this folk-rock version by June Tabor and the Oyster Band is the one that has remained in my mind for two decades.

Never confuse wealth and power with moral merit. Moral merit never has anything to do with what we have, and everything to do with what we do with what we have.

June Tabor and the Oyster Band, "Dives and Lazarus", from Freedom and Rain (1990) 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tjAzsqzT0CE

as it fell out upon one day
rich Diverus he made a feast
and he invited all his friends
and gentry of the best

then Lazarus laid him down and down
even down at Diverus' door
some meat, some drink, brother Diverus
do bestow upon the poor

thou art none of mine, brother Lazarus
that lies begging at my door
no meat, no drink I’ll give to thee
nor bestow upon the poor

then Lazarus laid him down and down
even down at Diverus' wall
some meat, some drink, brother Diverus
or with hunger starve I shall

thou art none of mine, brother Lazarus
that lies begging at my wall
no meat, no drink I’ll give to thee
but with hunger starve you shall

then Lazarus laid him down and down
even down at Diverus' gate
some meat, some drink, brother Diverus
for Jesus Christ His sake

thou art none of mine, brother Lazarus
that lies begging at my gate
no meat, no drink I’ll give to you
for Jesus Christ His sake

then Diverus sent out his serving men
to whip poor Lazarus away
they had no power to whip one whip
and they threw their whips away

then Diverus sent out his hungry dogs
to worry poor Lazarus away
but they had no power to bite one bite
and they licked his sores away

as it fell out upon one day
poor Lazarus sickened and died
there came two angels out of Heaven
his soul thereto to guide

rise up, rise up brother Lazarus
come along with me
there's a place for you in Heaven
sitting on an angel's knee

as it fell out all on one day
Diverus sickened and died
there came two serpents out of Hell
his soul thereto to guide

rise up, rise up brother Diverus
come along with me
there is a place for you in Hell
sitting on a serpent's knee

Diverus lifted up his eyes 
and he saw poor Lazarus blessed
a drop of water brother Lazarus
for to quench my flaming thirst

if I had as many years to live 
as there are blades of grass
I would make it in my will secure
that the Devil should have no power

Hell is dark, Hell is deep 
Hell is full of mice
it's a pity that any poor sinful soul 
should be barred from our saviour Christ

Written in 4/2013