Diogenes for the Day, 9/22/2018

When Plato styled him a dog, "Quite true," he said, "for I come back again and again to those who have sold me."

The line dividing good and evil. . .

As a reference for Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 7.9:

Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 7.9

All things are implicated with one another, and the bond is holy. And there is hardly anything unconnected with any other thing. For things have been coordinated, and they combine to form the same Universe.

For there is one Universe made up of all things, and one God who pervades all things, and one substance, and one law, and one common reason in all intelligent animals, and one truth.

 So indeed there is also one perfection for all animals that are of the same stock and participate in the same reason.

—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, Book 7 (tr Long)

Everything is made to work together, within a whole and for a whole. It can feel maddening and saddening, therefore, when people embrace conflict and opposition. I must remember, however, that both the use and abuse of free will, itself a function of our rational nature, exist within the order of Providence. When we choose to get something wrong, proceeding from our ignorance, it is not grounds for despair. It is a challenge to learn to make it right. It is a call to freely and knowingly participate in unity.

We see the struggle in the big picture, when men wage wars for greed, when they engage in crooked politics for power, when they prey on the weak for profit, or when they pose and strut about for their vanity. We also see the struggle in the smaller picture, when we insult one another, gossip, deceive, or ignore our neighbors.

An example I notice quite often, from the youngest of children to the most important of adults, is what I simply call “the snub”. A colleague once refused to speak to me for months because I told him I didn’t prefer the use of PowerPoint in teaching. For no reason we could ever fathom, my whole family found themselves socially cast out at the school my children attended. The person I once considered as my best friend later moved in just down the street from my old family home, and will now look right past me whenever I’m back in the neighborhood.

I suspect this all stems from the mistaken assumption that we only become fully ourselves when we have enemies. Yet we are, of course, doing quite the opposite. When we separate and divide ourselves from others, and when we we deal in contempt and dismissal, we are diminishing both others and ourselves.

All of us live in the same world, are created for same end, and are made to work with one another. Some people find it hopelessly naïve and sentimental, but I will still insist that we are all made to love one another. In a certain sense, I will often say, love does indeed make the world go round, because the shared desire for the good, conscious or unconscious, is what moves all things.

People will insist that those in certain other groups, or creeds, or classes are surely evil, and that they must be cast out or destroyed. Yet dwelling upon particular differences ignores what is universally common, the essence of all of human nature within the harmony of all of Nature.

When someone tells me that my right and his right are at odds, or that my God and his God are not on speaking terms, or that my humanity and his humanity can never see eye to eye, he has only separated us by closing his eyes to what we share.

Someone once told me that we couldn’t be friends anymore, because we disagreed. All I could suggest was that true friends could always work at learning to agree on what mattered more, and were also quite willing to disagree on what mattered less. I often think of the old saying:

In essentials unity. In non-essentials liberty. In all things charity.

Written in 9/2007

Diogenes for the Day, 9/21/2018

To the man who said to him, "You don't know anything, although you are a philosopher," Diogenes replied, "Even if I am but a seeker of wisdom, that in itself is philosophy."

Boethius, The Consolation 2.18

. . . “Out of all these possessions, then, which you reckon as your wealth, not one can really be shown to be your own.

“For if they have no beauty for you to acquire, what have they for which you should grieve if you lose them, or in keeping which you should rejoice? And if they are beautiful by their own nature, how are you the richer thereby? For these would have been pleasing of themselves, though cut out from your possessions.

“They do not become valuable by reason that they have come into your wealth, but you have desired to count them among your wealth, because they seemed valuable.

“Why then do you long for them with such railing against Fortune? You seek, I believe, to put want to flight by means of plenty. But you find that the opposite results. The more various is the beauty of furniture, the more helps are needed to keep it beautiful.

“And it is ever true that those who have much, need much. And on the other hand, those need least who measure their wealth by the needs of nature, not by excess of display.” . . .

—from Book 2, Prose 5

Those who have much, need much. Those who want to receive, always ask to receive more. Those who expect, will never stop expecting.

Yet having isn’t what matters. Receiving isn’t what matters. Expecting isn’t what matters.

My first proper reading of the Consolation made me rethink everything I had taken for granted. Though my family had always taught me that my character was what defined me, the world around me always taught me that what came to me was what defined me.

My own efforts, and my own ability and achievements, proper society said, existed so that I could get some sort of an external reward. My merits were never my merits, not simply for their own sake, but rather a means for becoming important in the eyes of the world.

Most young people tend to be foolish, so I listened to the trends, not to the people who actually loved me. I would get caught up in the game of life, and I neglected the living of life.

I never lived up to the expectations of my snooty prep school, but when I got to college, I worked my tail off. I intended to make something of myself. And the whole time, I lost sight of what would make me a better person, in favor of what would make me a more successful person. I ended up right at the top of my class, and I ended up miserable.

I cared for all the recognition, but none of it was my own. I cared for acquiring things, but they made me no better. I wanted the rewards, without thinking about what I had to do in order to get the rewards. I looked to what was outside of me, and I ignored what was inside of me.

I started to become everything that, in my heart and mind, I knew to be wrong. Yet I fell for the lies, and I succumbed to all of the temptations. When I graduated, I had a long list of honors. I also had a broken conscience.

I had assumed that Fortune would make it all right. I wanted to own things, to receive things, and I assumed that would put everything in order. Quite the contrary, it was the most disordered thing I ever did.

To “have” something, or to “own” something is an illusion. I own nothing but myself. If there is anything outside of me that I desire, how does having or owning it make me any better? The value it has is already within itself. I only become a pathetic parasite. It is hardly good simply because I hold it in my hand. It was wonderful to begin with. Attaching myself to it makes it no better, and it makes me no better.

Give me money, and someone else had to give it to me. It depends upon another, not upon me. Give me fame, and someone else had to give it to me. It depends upon another, not upon me. Give me power, and someone else has to give it to me. It depends upon another, not upon me.

As smug and satisfied as I will be when I receive it, I will also cry and complain when I am denied it.

There’s the rub. Don’t tell me that who you are is what you have, even as what you have has nothing to do with who you are.

Written in 9/2015

Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 7.8

Let not future things disturb you, for you will come to them, if it shall be necessary, having with you the same reason which now you use for present things.

—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, Book 7 (tr Long)

Back in middle school, I was told that another student in my class disliked me intensely. I had no idea why, because I always kept to myself, but bullies don’t need a reason beyond their own issues. I was told, in all the glory and grandeur of gossip, that he was going to beat me senseless. He apparently insisted that bones would be broken.

Yes, I was afraid.

I was informed that the great beating event would happen after school. For a few days, I made excuses to stay at school late. Then I started taking circuitous routes from the building.

Then I finally had enough. If it will happen, I thought, it will happen. I know I’ve done no wrong to this fellow. I will keep thinking that way, and I will stick with it. Let him do what he needs to do. I will do what I need to do.

One day, he and his three friends saw me leaving school, right out in the open, as I walked home. They glared at me, and I glared right back. Wonder of wonders, they walked away. It could easily have ended very differently.

This was the experience of a child growing into a man. I am well advised to keep that experience in mind, at all times, now that I am a man.

Whatever may happen, or especially whatever inevitably will happen, is not within my power to determine. Nor do I know exactly what I may or may not do, or how I may or may not think in the future. Those are choices I am still going to make.

But why should I be so troubled? I can make a commitment right now, and everything I possess right now will be more than enough to manage what may come. I only need to maintain that commitment. I do not need to provide anything more for the future than what I already have at this very point in time.

There are no additional requirements. There are no special tricks. If I can be a good man now, I can also be a good man tomorrow. No situation needs to change that. So I can be decent at this moment, just for this moment, and I can push it forward one moment at a time. The rest will manage itself.

Somehow, I survived my wedding day with absolute confidence. That didn’t come from any arrogance or assumption. It came from an awareness that who I was, at the very moment I spoke my vows, could last for the rest of my life, if only I chose to make it so. Nothing needed to be added. It was all there, and I had to renew those vows, every day, even every hour, even at every moment.

It is all there for me now. Tomorrow can be a continuing of the now.

Written in 9/2007

Diogenes for the Day, 9/20/2018

To one who by argument claimed he had proven conclusively that he had horns, Diogenes said, touching his forehead, "Well, I for my part don't see any." 

In like manner, when somebody declared that there is no such thing as motion, he got up and walked about. 

When some one was discoursing on celestial phenomena, "How many days," asked Diogenes, "were you in coming from the sky?"

Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 7.7

Be not ashamed to be helped, for it is your business to do your duty like a soldier in the assault on a town.

How then, if being lame you cannot mount up on the battlements alone, but with the help of another it is possible?

—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, Book 7 (tr Long)

My wife and I will sometimes say, only half in jest, that we suffer from abandonment and betrayal issues respectively. This can be a volatile mixture, sometimes amusing, and sometimes disturbing. In either case, for us it means we feel that we’ve been ignored or cast aside once too often, so we find it hard to trust, and we find it hard to accept help. It breeds stubborn suspicions. “I’m fairly sure I can’t count on someone else, so I might as well do it all by myself.”

Yet here following only our passions, loosed from our understanding, will only do us even greater harm. Rational animals were not meant to merely go it alone, because reason is ordered toward being cooperative. Yes, selfish, dishonest, and disloyal people will certainly hang you out to dry. Now learn to trust and commit to the right sorts of people, and leave the scoundrels at arm’s length. Don’t throw the baby out with the bathwater, or let one bad man lead you to assume that all of them are bad.

I might somehow feel like I am stronger when I stand only with myself, when in fact I am actually deciding to let myself be weaker. Yes, every man is only his own master. But many men together, each choosing to assist the other in ruling himself, can support one another in ways that an individual alone can never do.

Now I’ve heard people say that they have my back, and they haven’t always been sincere about it. But when they are sincere, and when I can rely upon genuine friendship, we are now twice, three times, a dozen times more effective in pursuing a shared goal and purpose than we were on our own. That is a wonderful and a beautiful thing, and no disappointments should discourage us from seeking it out.

Sometimes circumstances will indeed leave me with no companions, with no support, and with no one to lean on. In such cases, my own mind and will are all that I have, and I will work with what I have. But if Providence has granted me the chance to stand together with another, I would be a fool to cast such an opportunity aside. People are at their best when they work together.

Sentimental moments are hardly bad things if they are not merely trivial. At the time when I felt the most alone in my life, I came across a family of ducks in the park near my house. I noticed how the drake and the hen carefully kept their eyes on everything around them, while the ducklings tumbled about in the grass. Look at how Nature has made them, I told myself. How odd that seeing a few ducks together could give me strength and encouragement.

The harder side of us may enjoy the inspiration of military images, and the gentler side of us may prefer the image of marriage and family. For me it ended up being ducks.

Written in 8/2007

Diogenes for the Day, 9/19/2018

Being asked what was the right time to marry, Diogenes replied, "For a young man not yet. For an old man never at all."

Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 7.6

How many after being celebrated by fame have been given up to oblivion, and how many who have celebrated the fame of others have long been dead.

—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, Book 7 (tr Long)

Marcus Aurelius has a handful of themes he returns to time and time again, and though I haven’t done a formal count, I imagine this is one of the most common. Now some people have told me that repetition is a sign of sloppy thinking and poor writing, but all questions of theory and style aside, reiteration serves a very powerful practical purpose. It helps us to remember. It builds a strength of habit. It guides us back when we are diverted.

Stoicism has always been something more to me than just a philosophy of profound reflection. I may turn to Plato, or Aristotle, or Aquinas if I wish to contemplate principles. But I turn to Seneca, Epictetus, or Marcus Aurelius when I need very concrete help in my daily living. And whenever I feel that tug of reputation or status, I remind myself, time and time again, just how shallow and fleeting such a life truly is.

I do not even need to be an old man to see it. Most of what was praised and revered even a few years ago is now almost completely forgotten. When I was a teenager, girls would swoon at the sight of Duran Duran. Now they don’t even recognize the name. Great political heroes have risen, and they have fallen, and they have slipped into obscurity. Perhaps when they pass away, they will be briefly venerated for a moment on the evening news, only to be forgotten again. Each year, children have a new toy they want for Christmas, and the favorite from last year is packed up in a box in the attic.

It works even better closer to home. Do you remember that fellow who was the most popular, handsome, and charming one in the whole class, the one everyone thought would always be the king? I recall his face, but the name seems to escape me. Do you remember that girl who would strut along so confidently, and how your whole life rose and fell by whether she paid attention to you? Now you wouldn’t even recognize her.

Even in that stuffy world of academia, where you’d think time inches along, where the classics are surely always the classics, where nothing every really seems to change, there is still the trendy thinker, or an engaging idea, or a clever argument of the moment, and it is all cast aside when something shinier comes around. I would spend hours and hours in the stacks of my college library, leafing through books no one had opened for many years, if not decades. You’d read some great praise on the dust cover about how this was a text that would change the world. Now it is unknown, much like the name of the once-important scholar who gave the praise.

As soon as I recall how quickly everything passes, it helps me to laugh at myself, to see how ridiculous all of my petty concerns about making my mark, about being important, about being respected actually are. It all has nothing to do with me, and it won’t last.

It turns me back to what has everything to do with me. For however short a time I may be here, I am the master of my own thoughts and deeds. Whether they are admired, or even noticed at all, makes no difference. There is one great aspect of liberation.

Written in 8/2007

Diogenes for the Day, 9/18/2018

Someone had been reading aloud for a very long time, and when he was near the end of the roll, pointed to a space with no writing on it. "Cheer up, my men," cried Diogenes, "there's land in sight!"

Peter Brook, The Mahabharata

Some say Brook made an epic available for a new audience. Others say he was a racist, because, ironically, he employed a multi-racial cast. All I know, and only for myself, is that this film changed my life, only for the better.

"It's the poetical history of mankind. If you listen carefully, at the end you'll be someone else."

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yhqkRGISQr8

Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 7.5

Is my understanding sufficient for this or not? If it is sufficient, I use it for the work as an instrument given by the Universal Nature.

But if it is not sufficient, then either I retire from the work and give way to him who is able to do it better, unless there be some reason why I ought not to do so. Or I do it as well as I can, taking to help me the man who, with the aid of my ruling principle, can do what is now fit and useful for the general good.

For whatsoever either by myself or with another I can do, ought to be directed to this only, to that which is useful and well suited to society.

—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, Book 7 (tr Long)

This text combines two great pieces of Classical wisdom. Every man knows and can do some things well, but no man knows and can do everything well. Join your efforts with others, so that we might better aim for the good of all.

Each of these truths is often ignored or misunderstood. Many of us are convinced that we are the masters of many things, yet humble experience should teach us how little we understand. Many of us reduce knowledge and ability merely to the technical realm, the skills of this or that trade, yet the greater awareness must rest in the moral realm, the achievement of true human excellence. We neglect the end at the expense of the means.

Many of us are convinced that life must be a constant struggle between persons, a war where success for some means failure for others, yet the benefit of all people can only be necessarily joined together. Many of us, while speaking of the common good, assume that what is good for us is merely money, or security, or health, or leisure, yet such things can only exist as a means for our virtue. Again, we neglect the end at the expense of the means.

So we end up with two grave errors we are all prone to falling into: “I can do it all myself”, and “I should do it for myself”. No, we are made to do it together, and we are made for one another.

At first, admitting that I don’t understand something, or that I am not gifted in a certain way, or that something is beyond my ability can be difficult for me to accept. I may feel weak, inadequate, or incompetent. But once I begin to recognize that the whole world isn’t just about me, but about everything working together, each part in its own distinct and unique way, I can come to find comfort in this. I don’t have to be the strongest or the best. I can come to accept myself for what I am, knowing that all things exist in a balance. I am playing my part, and I don’t need to play all the other parts.

We often pay a certain lip service to the idea of the common good, but too often it remains just a vague idea. I somehow know I should be working toward such a goal, but then I get caught up only in myself. It is only when I remember my own purpose in this world, to live with wisdom and virtue, to know what is true and to love what is good, that I can also remember how everyone else is made for this exact same purpose. It isn’t about making people richer, or more powerful, or more gratified. It’s about helping one another to simply become better.

We may not all have the same means at our disposal, but we are all made for the same end. The good for all us isn’t about accumulating more means for ourselves, but sharing whatever means we may have to work for that end. 

No man is insignificant, or disposable, or unnecessary. All will play their own part when they work together for the whole. 

Written in 8/2007

Diogenes for the Day, 9/17/2018

Seeing the child of a courtesan throw stones at a crowd, he cried out, "Take care you don't hit your father."

Krishna and Arjuna

A sad and confused teenager once turned to the local PBS station, because he was tired of being sold sex. money, and lies on all the other networks. He ran across a rather odd show. It was an artsy film adaptation of the Mahabharata, that great Hindu epic. He happened to tune in a bit too late, well into the narrative. He knew that the Mahabharata was a deeply sacred text, and he was suddenly fascinated.

That young fellow didn't know if this version by Peter Brook was faithful or accurate to the source, but he knew that it touched his soul more deeply than he could ever explain. He saw Krishna explain to Arjuna about action, intention, and purpose. The film, offering only the briefest summary of the Bhagavad Gita, asked him to consider detachment.

"I am in anguish. I can't see where my duty lies! Teach me."

"Victory and defeat are the same. . . Seek detachment, fight without desire."

"Renunciation is not enough. You must act, yet action mustn't dominate you. . . In the heart of action, you must remain free from all attachment. "

"You must learn to see with the same eye a mound of earth, and heap of gold. A cow, and a sage. A dog, and the man who eats the dog. There is another Intelligence, beyond the mind."

"All men are born into illusion! How can one reach the truth, if one is born in illusion?"

"Slowly, Krishna led Arjuna through all the fibers of his spirit. He showed him the deepest movements of his being, and his true battlefield, where you need neither warriors, nor arrows. For each man must fight alone."

"I am all that you think, all that you say. Everything hangs on me, like pearls on a thread. I am the earth's scent, and the fire's heat. I am appearance, and disappearance. I am the trickster's hoax. I am the radiance of all that shines. I am time grown old. All beings fall into the night. And all beings are brought back to daylight."

"I have already defeated all these warriors. But he who thinks he can kill, and he who thinks he can be killed, are both mistaken."

"No weapon can pierce the life that informs you. No fire can burn it. No water can drench it. No wind can make it dry. Have no fear, and rise up. . . "

". . . Because I love you."

That silly young fellow started crying, and the folks he was with thought he was slightly insane. To this day, he thinks he finally became slightly more sane.

Written in 3/1997

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_B4Z1PB97KY

Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 7.4

In discourse you must attend to what is said, and in every movement you must observe what is being done.

And in the one you should watch carefully what is the thing signified, but in the other you should see immediately to what end it refers.

—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, Book 7 (tr Long)

Sometimes we will use words, but we’re not quite sure what we mean by them. Sometimes we will engage in a task, but we’re not entirely sure why we might be doing it. At all times and in all things, I should pay attention to what purpose both speech and action are directed.

Language without understanding is nothing but noise, and deeds without direction are nothing but an empty effort. So I should pick my words wisely, always keeping in mind what truth I wish to convey. I should examine my works carefully, always keeping in mind what good I wish to achieve. What is truly intended? How will it improve my own character? How might it help others to improve their own?

I will shamefully admit that I spend too much of my time frustrated by empty talk and pointless business from others. I should be attending first to myself, however, and managing what is rightly within my own power. I am probably best off saying nothing at all, instead of saying something foolish. I am probably best off doing nothing at all, instead of doing something aimless.

If I examine myself honestly, I see that most of what I say involves mouthing words to fill an awkward silence, or speaking only to produce clever repartee, or yapping simply to make myself feel more special and important. I see that most of what I do has little aim other than giving the appearance of being busy, or trying to impress someone, or just blindly doing what I’m told to do, without any thought or reflection.

It isn’t necessarily that saying or doing less is more, but that saying or doing better is surely more.

As a teacher, I have sadly seen how many of our efforts involve asking young people to parrot language they do not comprehend, and to engage in busywork that provides them with no real benefit. Year after year, I see the newcomers to the vocation, at first on fire with idealism and enthusiasm, becoming quickly discouraged that they are nothing more than “babysitters with a benefits package.”

I can only smile, and suggest to new teachers that they should care less about what the system asks them to do, than to find every possible way to do what they know they should be doing to begin with, whatever limitations the system may try to impose on them. Some rise to the task. Many do not. 

 Flapping my lips is not the same thing as comprehending. Being always furiously occupied is not the same thing as being productive. Having real purpose in mind makes all the difference.

Written in 8/2007

Diogenes for the Day, 9/16/2018

To the question of why gold is pale, his reply was, "Because it has so many thieves plotting against it."

Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 7.3

The idle business of show, plays on the stage, flocks of sheep, herds, exercises with spears, a bone cast to little dogs, a bit of bread into fishponds, laborings of ants and burden-carrying, the running about of frightened little mice, puppets pulled by strings—all alike.

It is your duty, then, in the midst of such things to show good humor and not a proud air, and to understand, however, that every man is worth just so much as the things are worth about which he busies himself.

—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, Book 7 (tr Long)

Sometimes I will feel proud of an achievement, and sometimes I will feel ashamed of a failure. The cure for either my vanity or my self-pity is always to remember how so many of those things we consider to be grand and noble, worthy of the highest esteem, are actually rather small, petty, and insignificant.

To win wealth, honor, and influence may seem quite praiseworthy, so much so that a good number of us will dedicate every bit of our efforts to their pursuit. Let them come and go, as they inevitably will, but if I think of them within the bigger picture of the order of Nature, and from the proper perspective of what makes a human life happy and worthwhile, they are like straw.

The imagery Marcus Aurelius uses to describe these lesser things is extremely helpful for me. Whenever I find myself impressed by a big name, or a fat wallet, or the posing and posturing of fashion, or the deeds of apparently important men doing apparently even more important things, I only need to go through this list in my own head. My reaction should not be one of disdain or dismissal, but one of seeing things by the right measure.

I have a cat that is horrified by the doorbell. As a toddler, my son’s life seemed to revolve around a fascination with bananas. I once knew a girl who would stop at each and every reflective surface to adjust her hair and pout. Now these are not bad things, and they may even be amusing or satisfying things, but they are hardly important things.

If I can only look at all the false idols and prophets of the world in the same way, I won’t need to worry about what I have won or lost in the game. I can commit myself to better things, to more fulfilling things, to the life of a good man instead of the life of a busybody.

I don’t need to be angry with the self-absorbed and shallow folks, but I can bear them with kindness and good spirits. If I don’t myself obsess about what is trifling, I will not find it troubling.

At the same time, however, I should recognize that the merit of any man is clearly reflected in the things of life he concerns himself with the most. How much grief would I have saved myself if I had not chosen to admire people who sought career over character? How much heartache would I have avoided if I had not chosen to follow people who sadly loved all the wrong things? They say there should be no crying over spilled milk, but I can certainly learn about where to place my glass on the table the next time.

Let them be, but do not necessarily let yourself be like them. Love your neighbor, but do not necessarily love the same things he loves. Leave the amateur drama, the breadcrumbs, the scuffling of puppies, or the puppet show exactly for what they are, and dedicate yourself to your own human excellence. 

Written in 8/2007

Diogenes for the Day, 9/15/2018

As for those who were excited over their dreams, he would say that they cared nothing for what they did in their waking hours, but kept their curiosity for the visions called up in their sleep.

Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 7.2

How can our principles become dead, unless the thoughts that correspond to them are extinguished? But it is in your power continuously to fan these thoughts into a flame.

I can have that opinion about anything, which I ought to have. If I can, why am I disturbed? The things that are external to my mind have no relation at all to my mind.

Let this be the state of your affects, and you may stand straight. To recover your life is in your power. Look at things again as you used to look at them. For in this consists the recovery of your life.

—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, Book 7 (tr Long)

To think how often I have heard people say that they can’t help but think a certain way, or that they have lost their convictions, or that they can’t find the will for something. Yes, we may feel tired, or discouraged, or disappointed, but while our feelings may come and go, our thoughts and choices are strictly ours to control. They don’t simply happen to us, but are rather things that we make happen.

One of the most frustrating examples of this, I find, is when people engage in a romantic relationship, but then suddenly say “I can’t help it, but I just don’t feel the same anymore.” Such a statement is based on the false premise that love is only an emotion. Love indeed expresses itself with very powerful feelings, but it is more than just a feeling. Love is a choice, a commitment, and a promise. Love proceeds form our thinking, which is always within our power.

If a fire within me is starting to go out, I can always decide to fan the flames. Things will be what they are, but how I judge about those things, how I choose to perceive them as being good or bad for me, is entirely up to me. Nothing outside of me ever makes me think as I do.

If I do not first estimate something to be troubling, then I will not feel troubled. If I do not first consider something to be harmful to me, then I will not feel harmed. If I can only discover what is of benefit within any circumstance, I will always find a way to improve myself.

I will fail to do this only when I am convinced that my mind isn’t strong enough, or that my attitude is unavoidable, or that the impressions things make must determine my own actions. The mind, however, is not ruled by its own objects. It rises above them when it considers them, and when it discerns value within them. It will only be as capable or incapable of ruling its own judgments as it thinks itself to be. The irony is that the mind only fails itself when it decides it will fail itself.

This is the root, I suspect, of all most powerful human encouragement, and the source of recovering ourselves after we have surrendered to the conditions that surround us. I can always stand up again, I can always revive my own character and principles.

Now some people will tell me that I can be whatever I want to be, and that I can achieve anything I set out to achieve. I must add a distinctly Stoic clarification to such a claim. It will most certainly not be within my power to make the world as I would like it, though it is always within my power to make myself as I would like it. The true greatness of any human achievement is never a mastery of circumstances, but a mastery of the self within the face of circumstances.

Nature has made me so that I can be subject to my own reason, and she has made other human beings to be subject to their own reason, and she has made other things subject to their own principles, all under the absolute rule of Universal Reason. Each aspect will play its own part, and I can always be confident that my own part, rightly understood, is completely my own, and completely invincible.

Written in 8/2007