Dhammapada 4

"He abused me, he beat me, he defeated me, he robbed me,"—in those who do not harbor such thoughts hatred will cease.

Dhammapada 3

"He abused me, he beat me, he defeated me, he robbed me,"—in those who harbor such thoughts hatred will never cease.

Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 7.59

In everything that happens keep before your eyes those to whom the same things happened, and how they were vexed, and treated them as strange things, and found fault with them.

And now where are they? Nowhere. Why then do you too choose to act in the same way? And why do you not leave these agitations that are foreign to Nature, to those who cause them and those who are moved by them?

And why are you not altogether intent upon the right way of making use of the things that happen to you? For then you will use them well, and they will be a material for you to work on. Only attend to yourself, and resolve to be a good man in every act that you do.

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

If I choose to be dissatisfied with my circumstances, I will end up filling myself with frustration and anxiety. I may then lash out at others, or I may turn upon myself, but in either case I have failed to make anything better, and I have only made myself worse.

This may seem so obvious when I observe it in someone else, and I may wonder how anyone could be so foolish. Now let me apply the insight to myself, where I am so caught up in my own passions, and where an impartial judgment is not quite as easy. If I look carefully, I will see that I often do exactly the same things I shake my head at in others.

I may express myself with anger, sadness, desperation, or vengeance. I may become obsessed with one thing, and neglectful of anything else. I will frantically assume that if I somehow “fix” the problems around me, then my life will be right back on track. After all, if things aren’t the way I want them to be, I assume I should just push back harder, scream louder, complain with more spite, or stomp my foot with more indignation. But what it all shares in common is the misguided belief that my happiness follows from the world going my way.

I had a temper tantrum as a child because I couldn’t watch a certain show on TV, I injured my foot by repeatedly kicking a boulder when a girl told me I wasn’t worth her time, and I drank myself stupid when other people didn’t listen. I might as well have held my breath until God Himself finally gave in and handed me whatever I wanted.

One thing that always troubled me when I was younger was the way people were so quick to insult and demean one another. They seemed shocked when there was lying, cheating, murder, and mayhem in the world, but at the same time they would gladly put down the people around them, sometimes in the most vicious and heartless of ways. It seemed so unnecessary.

But then I noticed I would sometimes do exactly the same thing, and I looked at my own motives. I would speak and act poorly toward others when I wasn’t happy with my situation, and so I would turn the force of my own misery outwards at them. Could it be that they were doing much the same? Here I had thought they would diminish me because they felt superior to me, when perhaps they were diminishing me because they felt so diminished themselves.

At the root of it all is how I will decide to find my happiness, whether within myself or from the things around me, and in turn what I will decide needs fixing and changing, myself or the things around me. If I look to my own thoughts and actions, I must simply adjust my thoughts and actions when life seems to be going wrong. But if I look to making the world fit my desires, I will only find myself disturbed and enraged.

The grasping man always finds something he doesn’t like, and so he fights it. The contented man always finds something good in everything, and so he works with it. He recognizes that a frustration is an opportunity, and an obstacle is a tool for self-improvement.

I shouldn’t get angry when the world doesn’t seem right, but I should make myself right instead. It’s like the difference between slamming myself into a brick wall or sitting down for a rest under its shade.

Written in 1/2008

Dhammapada 2

All that we are is the result of what we have thought: it is founded on our thoughts, it is made up of our thoughts. 

If a man speaks or acts with a pure thought, happiness follows him, like a shadow that never leaves him.

Boethius, The Consolation 2.30

. . . “And do you think that this should be reckoned among the least benefits of this rough, unkind, and terrible ill fortune, that she has discovered to you the minds of your faithful friends?

 “Fortune has distinguished for you your sure and your doubtful friends; her departure has taken away her friends and left you yours. At what price could you have bought this benefit if you had been untouched and, as you thought, fortunate?

 “Cease then to seek the wealth you have lost. You have found your friends, and they are the most precious of all riches.”

—from Book 2, Prose 8

Offering an example of how misfortune can actually help us to become better, Lady Philosophy asks Boethius to consider how desperate circumstances can encourage understanding of the true nature of friendship. Few things seem dearer to us, and also more painful to us, than our relationships with the people we would like to consider our friends.

This passage resonates with me quite deeply. I was never really a fellow who wanted to be in the spotlight, loved by the many, but I always felt a need to find just a few people I could love and trust. I made many mistakes in this regard.

In school, people would often say they were your friends when it was socially convenient. At work, people would often say they were your friends when it was professionally convenient. On the most personal level, people would often say they were your friends when it was emotionally convenient.

And I would fall for it, time and time again. I followed all the wrong sorts of people, and so I made myself the wrong sort of person. I was impressed by charm, or influence, or simply if someone made me feel good. And then I wondered why it all ended up hurting so much.

I would reach out to others, and then I suddenly found myself burned. I once quite foolishly even committed all of myself to someone, not quite knowing what I was getting into, but thinking that if I made that great leap, only good would follow. It didn’t. I ended up alone.  

I would then impulsively blame others, and I would lash out about how unfair it all was. Yet the blame for my agony was never with others, whatever wrong they may or may not have done for themselves. The blame for my agony came from me.

It took quite a bit of time, and quite a bit more struggling with myself, but I eventually saw that I misunderstood the nature of love, at all levels, and to all degrees. I expected to be given comfort, confidence, and support. It is quite wonderful to receive this, but that, I realized, is not what it means to be a friend. To be a friend is to provide comfort, confidence, and support. I had it backwards.

Now it is entirely possible that I might have learned this in any number of ways, but I found it telling that I happened to learn it not by experiencing healthy forms of friendship, but by experiencing sick forms of friendship. It was actually the absence of what was good that pointed me to the presence of what was good. Being disposed of by others helped me to respect others, and being deceived by others helped me to be honest with others.

As painful as it may be, worldly disappointments in life can sometimes teach us far more than our worldly successes in life. I imagine what could have become of me if I had not eventually seen how I was so easily cast aside. I might well have continued under the illusion that crooked people thought I mattered. If I had continued being useful, and therefore being comfortably numb, I might never have learned.

Misfortune will tell you exactly who your real friends are, and, more importantly, it will also tell you exactly who you are.

Written in 9/2015

IMAGE: Pablo Picasso, Friendship (1908) 

Dhammapada 1

All that we are is the result of what we have thought: it is founded on our thoughts, it is made up of our thoughts. 

If a man speaks or acts with an evil thought, pain follows him, as the wheel follows the foot of the ox that draws the carriage. 

(all quotes from the Dhammapada in these entries are from the  F. Max Müller translation, 1881)

Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 7.58

Love that only which happens to you, and is spun with the thread of your destiny. For what is more suitable?

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

The idea of destiny or fate might scare us, but this will only be so if we assume that what must of necessity happen to us is all that defines us. Events will unfold in their own way, most of them beyond our power to determine. Hard experience itself should be enough to teach us this.

If we reflect further, sound thinking should also indicate that no effect proceeds without a cause, and that all things are joined together for a reason, all of them acting with purpose for the sake of the whole. Because the Universe reveals purpose, it also reveals Intelligence.

But this may be frightening, because it seems to mean that we are just pieces being pushed about, back and forth, by far greater forces. If it all has to happen, why should we make any effort at all? It was meant to be, after all, and there’s no fighting what’s meant to be!

This misses the fact that we too share and participate in this Intelligence, and that our own thoughts, choices, and actions are not in conflict with Providence, but a very expression of it. Yes, things will happen, but now comes my distinct role. I can accept what will happen, while at the very same time understanding that what I decide to do with what happens is still entirely up to me. I am myself an active aspect of the whole, as a player is in a drama or an orchestra. I am helping to shape what is meant to be.

In other words, that there is a destiny is itself already open to the part we decide to play within that destiny. The circumstances are not up to us, but our responses certainly are up to us.

Recognizing oneself as an active participant is the key to not being frightened by fate. That way, what happens can be freely and gladly embraced, knowing that any condition, and any situation, is an opportunity to live well. Since the Stoic grasps that his happiness is in his own action, every given state of affairs offers him the chance to do something good with it.

That isn’t, for me, a scary sense of destiny, but a beautiful sense of destiny.

Still, it isn’t always easy to put this into daily practice. Why has my dearest friend turned away? Why has my son died? Why does this pain come to me, but not to others? To simply say that it happens for a reason doesn’t seem very comforting. But if I add further that a part of the reason it happens is precisely for me to do good, by it, with it, and through it, this helps me to understand.

I can love what happens, anything that happens, and find it suitable and right, if I consider how my strand in the thread is joined to all the other strands, and how my own choices can exist in harmony with other events. 

Written in 1/2008

Epictetus, Golden Sayings 58

Even as the traveler asks his way of him that he meets, inclined in no way to bear to the right rather than to the left (for he desires only the way leading where he would go), so should we come unto God as to a guide, even as we use our eyes without admonishing them to show us some things rather than others, but content to receive the images of such things as they present to us. 

But as it is we stand anxiously watching the victim, and with the voice of supplication call upon the augur: "Master, have mercy on me; vouchsafe unto me a way of escape!" 

Slave, would you then have anything else then what is best? Is there anything better than what is God's good pleasure? Why, as far as in you lies, would you corrupt your Judge, and lead your Counselor astray?

Boethius, The Consolation 2.29

“But,” she said, “do not think that I would urge implacable war upon Fortune. There are times when her deception of men has certain merits. I mean when she discovers herself, unveils her face, and proclaims her ways.

Perhaps you do not yet understand what I would say. It is a strange thing that I am trying to say, and for that reason I can scarcely explain myself in words. I think that ill fortune is of greater advantage to men than good fortune. Good fortune is ever lying when she seems to favor by an appearance of happiness. Ill fortune is ever true when by her changes she shows herself inconstant.

The one deceives, the other edifies. The one by a deceitful appearance of good things enchains the minds of those who enjoy them. The other frees them by a knowledge that happiness is so fragile.

You see, then, that the one is blown about by winds, is ever moving and ever ignorant of its own self. The other is sober, ever prepared and ever made provident by the undergoing of its very adversities.

Lastly, good fortune draws men from the straight path of true good by her fawning. Ill fortune draws most men to the true good, and holds them back by her curved staff.” . . .

—from Book 2, Prose 8

The argument here is something I had long failed to really consider, for far too many years. We all assume, of course, that good fortune is beneficial, and that bad fortune is harmful. Why else would we call them “good” and “bad”? If I win a million dollars, the world is looking great, and if my house has burned down, things have taken a turn for the worse.

Now Lady Philosophy has been explaining to Boethius that any kind of fortune, whether we call it good or bad, is hardly a reliable source of happiness. As soon as we start depending upon it, we are placing our trust in something over which we really have little control. Would it not be wiser to build our lives on what we do, rather than what happens to us?

But surely, even if our lives can only be what we make of them, fortune can still be of assistance, or make that path easier, or offer the mean for us to become better. If fortune can help me to build my own character, I would be a fool to turn her away. If I have wealth, I could use that wealth for good, or if I have fame, I could employ my fame for the sake of what is right.

Yet human nature can be fickle, and being given more will not necessarily mean that we will make more of it. In fact, Lady Philosophy now suggests that the more good fortune comes our way, the more likely we will be to make ourselves worse. The choice, of course, is up to us, but the weight of influence will be such that good fortune will actually discourage us from virtue, and bad fortune will encourage us to virtue.

This flies in the face of everything we take for granted, but our assumptions are still built on the idea that life is measured by our circumstances. Once we begin to see that what is on the outside is entirely relative to what is on the inside, we can be open to a transformation of values.

Give us all the supposed blessings of fortune, and we will be easily tempted to rest in them, or use them as our support, and we think that they are trustworthy and constant. We begin to find our contentment in them alone, and we can then neglect our moral worth.

Take away all the supposed blessings of fortune, and we realize that we can never rest in them, or use them as our support, and we no longer think they are trustworthy and constant. We begin to find our contentment in ourselves alone, and we can then improve our moral worth.

The odd irony ends up being that what we thought was helping was actually hurting, and what we thought was hurting was actually helping. Good fortune can deceive us into a false sense of security and dependence, and makes us ignorant of our true nature. Bad fortune can wake us from our slumber, reminding us of what truly matters in life, and makes us stronger in the face of adversity.

My own experience, considered with brutal honesty, has taught me how much this has been true in my life. I have done some things right, and many things wrong, in all sort of circumstances, but the general pattern, far more often than not, has been that when you given me more, I make less of myself, and when you give me less, I make more of myself.

Fortune can “reward” me with more, or she can “punish” me with less. At first it is clear which I should prefer, but what if I see that a reward can spoil me, making me weak, entitled, and arrogant, while a punishment can correct me, making be committed, responsible, and humble? I might want to rethink my preference.

More and less are not always what we think they are. 

Written in 9/2015

IMAGE: Frans Francken II, Allegory of Fortune (c. 1615)

Epictetus, Golden Sayings 57

That was a good reply which Diogenes made to a man who asked him for letters of recommendation.

"That you are a man, he will know when he sees you; whether a good or bad one, he will know if he has any skill in discerning the good or bad. 

"But if he has none, he will never know, though I write him a thousand times."

It is as though a piece of silver money desired to be recommended to someone to be tested. If the man be a good judge of silver, he will know; the coin will tell its own tale.

Confessions of a Lonely Stoic

That almost sounds like the title of a brooding and introspective post-modern novel. It's too bad I am mediocre at writing in general, and at writing novels in particular. For every clever idea I have ever had, from poems, to short stories, to screenplays, to epic dramas, I have never had the knack for producing a marketable product.

And I thank the gods for that. If I'd ever been good at selling anything to anyone, I would never have discovered Stoicism, a philosophy that tells me why none of that amounts to a hill of beans.

As a young man, I would try my hardest to fit in, to be liked, to become what they call a "successful" person. Perhaps I didn't have the aptitude to begin with, but I certainly lacked the drive to impose myself upon others. It slowly occurred to me that shouting out loud, or playing the game, or being the bully were simply not in my nature. Was that really what was needed to be happy?

I saw people lie, cheat, and steal to get what they wanted. They said one thing, and then did another. The trick was all about not getting caught. That disgusted me, so I began to look elsewhere. I stumbled across Epictetus one day, and it flipped my world around.

Now I was actually a student of philosophy, and even managed a PhD in that field, but Stoicism was always something on the fringes. In a department of over forty world-class professors, not a single one would tell me anything about the Stoics. "Not my specialty," or "Not relevant for today," or "It's not on the comps reading list," were the usual answers.

So I braved it on my own. I read all I could on my own, I reflected upon it on my own, and I tried to put it all into practice on my own. That last bit was what spoke to me the most, because it became clear to me that Stoicism was not a philosophy of academic theory, but an exercise in daily living. This wasn't about looking smart, or even about being smart, but about being good, on every day and in every way. It was philosophy in the most practical and concrete form.

There was so little scholarship about Stoicism, and that was probably a good thing, because most scholars do little more than hold a mirror to their own vanity. I would occasionally run across weird, wonderful, and eccentric people who admired Seneca, Epictetus, or Marcus Aurelius, and it would brighten my day.

Even more rarely, I would find someone who knew who Zeno, Cleanthes, Chrysippus, or Musonius Rufus were, and I would feel like I was walking on air. Some others apparently understood.

Still, I felt lonely. Nevertheless, for the first time in my life, I did not assume that feeling lonely was bad. The Stoics taught me why I didn't need to worry about those things.

I may have felt lonely, but I was never alone.

I learned how what mattered about me was what I thought and did, not about what others thought and did.

I learned that I am always a part of Nature, and whatever my circumstances, I will always have my place.

I learned that I don't need to read a fancy book to find God. He is right here, in everything I see, and in everything I do.

I learned that I don't need to be loved by people. I only need to love them to see them as my neighbors.

Somewhere into the 2000's I noticed a buzz on the internet. The word "Stoic" started to be used, and not in the usual negative way. I had a moment of brief hope that the way of life I had chosen, a commitment to understanding, respect, and a harmony with all things, might take hold with more people. I found that encouraging.

I fell back into the trap of thinking that something was good if it was popular, or, as we say now, it was "trending". And once again, I saw what happened when people took hold of something good, and used it only to glorify themselves.

I saw a surge in professional scholarship on the topic, but much of it it was stale, dry, and inbred. Let us, by all means, debate the subtleties of Greek and Latin terms; I love that as much as the next geek. But shall we let this distract from our living, because words apparently matter more than things?

I once asked an esteemed professor why he thought, as has now become the trend, that a Stoic should be an atheist. He laughed, and said, "People who believe in God are assholes." I quote him, word for word. But shall we reject what is Divine because it isn't the fad of the age?

I read the words of an academic who was openly proud that he had decided to "become" a Stoic, because it would help his scholarly career, differentiate himself from his colleagues, and allow him to better promote his political ideology. He struts around to this day, proclaiming himself an expert. But is this worthy of praise?

I watched a humble fellow posting his own reflections on the internet, long before I ever had the courage to post my own. He said many wonderful, insightful, and helpful things. But every single response to his posts was negative, and negative about the smallest of things. "Clearly, you are not a Stoic," they told him. He never posted again. But should we treat others in this way?

I ran across websites that sold products. Online courses about how to become a better Stoic, for a reduced price, only this week. Amulets and trinkets that you could wear to be a better Stoic, free shipping for only a limited time. My favorite was the blessed opportunity to purchase a blank book, so you could then write your Stoic reflections in it. But do any of us remember buying pet rocks?

There are now hipsters who pose as Stoics, businessmen who find an opportunity for profit to be seen as Stoics, and online Stoic gurus who use your need for their greed. They pose for the camera, and they tell you how much they care. They do care, but not for you, not for virtue, and not for Nature.

So someone thought they figured out that you can sell Stoicism as a life hack, failing to understand that it can never be bought or sold, and that it has nothing to do with status or wealth. This too shall pass.

I  feel lonely again, because I have nothing at all to do with these folks. Still, my feeling of loneliness is not bad, because I am not alone. I don't need to worry about those things. Take your gratification, take your glory, take your profit.

I have Nature.

Lonely? Yes. Alone? Never. 

Written in 3/2017

IMAGE: Appearance Defeats Character

Epictetus, Golden Sayings 56

How is it then that certain external things are said to be Natural, and others contrary to Nature? 

Why, just as it might be said if we stood alone and apart from others. 

A foot, for instance. I will allow it is natural that it should be clean. But if you take it as a foot, and as a thing which does not stand by itself, it will beseem it, if need be, to walk in the mud, to tread on thorns, and sometimes even to be cut off for the benefit of the whole body. Otherwise it is no longer a foot. 

In some such way we should conceive of ourselves also. What are you? A man. Looked at as standing by yourself and separate, it is natural for you in health and wealth long to live. But looked at as a Man, and only as a part of a Whole, it is for that Whole's sake that you should at one time fall sick, at another brave the perils of the sea, know the meaning of want, and perhaps die an early death. 

Why then be discontent? Know that as the foot is no more a foot if detached from the body, so you in like case are no longer a Man? 

For what is a Man? A part of a City. First of the City of Gods and Men. Next, of that which ranks nearest it, a miniature of the Universal City. . . . 

In such a body, in such a world enveloping us, among lives like these, such things must happen to one or another. Your part, then, being here, is to speak of these things as is right, and to order them as befits the matter. 

Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 7.57

Consider yourself to be dead, and to have completed your life up to the present time; and live according to Nature the remainder that is allowed you.

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

To live life in the now, happy with who we are and how we act at this very moment, is a classic principle of Stoicism.

It follows not from any brooding terror of sudden death, but rather from the insight that what has been in the past, or what might be in the future, or even the external circumstances in the present, do not define the value of our lives. It is what we ourselves choose to think and do right now, bound to nothing else but our own virtue in action, that can make life complete, leaving nothing more to be desired.

I often think of it like a field test for moral self-sufficiency. If my life were to end immediately, or if everything in the world around me were suddenly to fall away, would I still be able to say with confidence that I am happy? How much of my sense of self actually depends on the past, the future, or on any sort of condition that is completely beyond my own power? Is it about what I am doing, or about what is done to me?

I am deceived if I understand living in the now only as an excuse for immediate gratification, thinking that I should just have my fun while I still can. Pleasure in itself is never a measure of worth, because it looks to the feeling received, not to the good or evil of what is done. It is hardly even about me, since it does not depend on the merit of my actions. It isn’t a self-sufficiency at all, but a form of slavery.

I am mistaken if I believe that I am living well, when most of what I consider good actually follows from things other than me. My possessions, my place of honor, or my positions of importance are not reflections on my character, but are rather things that come to me. What an error to say that I am happy because of my fine home, or my wonderful job, or my beautiful children. No, a good man lives well in any place, commits himself gladly to any work, and loves anyone who enters into his life.

I am misled if I confuse who I am now with who I once was, or who I might become. If I think I am happy because of something I once did, or because of something I intend to do, I am not being anything at all, but only remembering and expecting. Should it be done? Whether I did it in the right or the wrong way before, do it in the right way now. If I can do it now, why wait until later? Only now is guaranteed.

“I told her I loved her last week, and I’ll tell her again next week.” No, tell her now. And it doesn’t matter if she says it back or laughs in your face.

I try to imagine each moment as a complete whole, accepting each as it is by itself, and acting within each as if it were the only moment there will ever be. If it is indeed the last, then I can be satisfied. If I am given another moment, I can pass on the dignity of the one to the other, content with each for its own sake. 

Written in 1/2008

Epictetus, Golden Sayings 55

As for us, we behave like a herd of deer. When they flee from the huntsman's feathers in fright, which way do they turn? What haven of safety do they make for? Why, they rush upon the nets! 

And thus they perish by confounding what they should fear with that wherein no danger lies. . . . 

Not death or pain is to be feared, but the fear of death or pain. 

Well said the poet therefore:

Death has no terror; only a Death of shame!

Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 7.56

The first principle then in man's constitution is the social.

And the second is not to yield to the persuasions of the body, for it is the peculiar office of the rational and intelligent motion to circumscribe itself, and never to be overpowered either by the motion of the senses or of the appetites, for both are animal; but the intelligent motion claims superiority and does not permit itself to be overpowered by the others. And with good reason, for it is formed by Nature to use all of them.

The third thing in the rational constitution is freedom from error and from deception. Let then the ruling principle, holding fast to these things, go straight on, and it has what is its own.

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

Because human nature is rational, it is ordered toward cooperation with others. My conscious and deliberate choice can participate with the conscious and deliberate choice of my fellows, knowing that we all share in the same end and purpose. We are better and stronger together, not apart.

Because human nature is rational, it is ordered toward ruling both itself and whatever is beneath it. My conscious and deliberate choice can be the source of its own good, and can make good use of all my other powers. The mind can master the senses and the passions, and need not be mastered by them.

Because human nature is rational, it is ordered toward the certainty of truth over the confusion of ignorance. My conscious and deliberate choice is firmly grounded in the ability to distinguish true from false, and right from wrong. Whatever possesses a mind can know what it does, and thereby act with conviction.

I am made to live with my neighbor, I am made to have my mind rule my body, and I am made to have a clear understanding of my purpose. It perhaps sounds so obvious to me, but then I recognize how often I stray from these principles.

We exist for one another, yet I will still assume that I am in some state of war. We exist for the higher to inform the lower, but I will still act as if the lower should drag down the higher. We exist to have confidence in truth, but I will still succumb to so much doubt and fear.

Why am I fighting? Why am I still a slave? Why am I crippled by skepticism? I find that these are, of course, universal problems for all of humanity, but they are also especially prevalent in the modern age, where we are so deeply separated from a bond with Nature. We are divorced from love, fueled by violent emotion, and dismissive of the idea that there can be anything absolute beyond ourselves.

I remind myself that my commitment to Stoic living will only be as complete as my willingness to put these principles into daily practice. I should not only ponder them abstractly, but also apply them concretely. Only then will I not be swept away by confusion about who I am, why I am here, and where I should be going. 

Written in 12/2007

IMAGE: Henrietta Rae, Doubts (1886)

A Man Who Taught Me Decency

It seems like a lost time, but it was a wonderful time.

I grew up watching Mr. Rogers most every day when I got home from school, and it made so many things so very much better. My mother would give me a plate of some cheese and crackers, along with my glass of juice.

And there was just this kind and decent man, with no agenda beyond making me understand that I was worth something. He didn't sell politics, or religion, or any sort of tribalism at all. He taught universal love.

There was the trolley, the Neighborhood of Make-Believe, and Mr. Speedy Delivery. That meant something to me, and it still does. I don't know if I could have weathered all the later storms without him at my back.

https://youtu.be/fKy7ljRr0AA 

Mr. Rogers testifies before the Senate Subcommittee on Communications on PBS funding, May 1st, 1969

Senator Pastore: Alright Rogers, you’ve got the floor.

Mr. Rogers: Senator Pastore, this is a philosophical statement and would take about ten minutes to read, so I’ll not do that. One of the first things that a child learns in a healthy family is trust, and I trust what you have said that you will read this. It’s very important to me. I care deeply about children.

Senator Pastore: Will it make you happy if you read it?

Mr. Rogers: I’d just like to talk about it, if it’s alright. My first children’s program was on WQED fifteen years ago, and its budget was $30. Now, with the help of the Sears-Roebuck Foundation and National Educational Television, as well as all of the affiliated stations – each station pays to show our program. It’s a unique kind of funding in educational television. With this help, now our program has a budget of $6000. It may sound like quite a difference, but $6000 pays for less than two minutes of cartoons. Two minutes of animated, what I sometimes say, bombardment. I’m very much concerned, as I know you are, about what’s being delivered to our children in this country. And I’ve worked in the field of child development for six years now, trying to understand the inner needs of children. We deal with such things as – as the inner drama of childhood. We don’t have to bop somebody over the head to…make drama on the screen. We deal with such things as getting a haircut, or the feelings about brothers and sisters, and the kind of anger that arises in simple family situations. And we speak to it constructively.

Senator Pastore: How long of a program is it?

Mr. Rogers: It’s a half hour every day. Most channels schedule it in the noontime as well as in the evening. WETA here has scheduled it in the late afternoon.

Senator Pastore: Could we get a copy of this so that we can see it? Maybe not today, but I’d like to see the program.

Mr. Rogers: I’d like very much for you to see it.

Senator Pastore: I’d like to see the program itself, or any one of them.

Mr. Rogers: We made a hundred programs for EEN, the Eastern Educational Network, and then when the money ran out, people in Boston and Pittsburgh and Chicago all came to the fore and said we’ve got to have more of this neighborhood expression of care. And this is what – This is what I give. I give an expression of care every day to each child, to help him realize that he is unique. I end the program by saying, “You’ve made this day a special day, by just your being you. There’s no person in the whole world like you, and I like you, just the way you are.” And I feel that if we in public television can only make it clear that feelings are mentionable and manageable, we will have done a great service for mental health. I think that it’s much more dramatic that two men could be working out their feelings of anger – much more dramatic than showing something of gunfire. I’m constantly concerned about what our children are seeing, and for 15 years I have tried in this country and Canada, to present what I feel is a meaningful expression of care.

Senator Pastore: Do you narrate it?

Mr. Rogers: I’m the host, yes. And I do all the puppets and I write all the music, and I write all the scripts –

Senator Pastore: Well, I’m supposed to be a pretty tough guy, and this is the first time I’ve had goose bumps for the last two days.

Mr. Rogers: Well, I’m grateful, not only for your goose bumps, but for your interest in – in our kind of communication. Could I tell you the words of one of the songs, which I feel is very important?

Senator Pastore: Yes.

Mr. Rogers: This has to do with that good feeling of control which I feel that children need to know is there. And it starts out, “What do you do with the mad that you feel?” And that first line came straight from a child. I work with children doing puppets in – in very personal communication with small groups:

What do you do with the mad that you feel? When you feel so mad you could bite. When the whole wide world seems oh so wrong, and nothing you do seems very right. What do you do? Do you punch a bag? Do you pound some clay or some dough? Do you round up friends for a game of tag or see how fast you go? It’s great to be able to stop when you’ve planned a thing that’s wrong. And be able to do something else instead, and think this song –

‘I can stop when I want to. Can stop when I wish. Can stop, stop, stop anytime….And what a good feeling to feel like this! And know that the feeling is really mine. Know that there’s something deep inside that helps us become what we can. For a girl can be someday a lady, and a boy can be someday a man.’

Senator Pastore: I think it’s wonderful. I think it’s wonderful. Looks like you just earned the 20 million dollars.

No limits. . .

Epictetus, Golden Sayings 54

In the same way my friend Heraclitus, who had a trifling suit about a petty farm at Rhodes, first showed the judges that his cause was just, and then at the finish cried, "I will not entreat you, nor do I care what sentence you pass. It is you who are on your trial, not I!" And so he ended the case.

Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 7.55

Do not look around you to discover other men's ruling principles, but look straight to this, to what Nature leads you, both the Universal Nature through the things that happen to you, and your own nature through the acts that must be done by you.

But every being ought to do that which is according to its constitution. And all other things have been constituted for the sake of rational beings, just as among irrational things the inferior for the sake of the superior, but the rational for the sake of one another.

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

I would have given up long ago on seeking the truth, if I only had the example of the academics around me. I would have given up long ago on finding God, if I had only the example of the churchmen around me. I would have given up long ago on trying to be a good man, if I had only the example of those who brag that they serve what is good.

If I were to model my own life only on parroting and mimicking what most others say and do, I’d find myself in quite a mess. I would easily make wisdom a means for promotion. I would gladly sell piety for profit. I would define decency by convenience. It isn’t necessarily a good idea to just do what the Romans do.

I notice how easily we look around to test the popular mood whenever we are faced with a decision of any importance. By all means, I can observe what others think, learn from what others think, and relate to what others think, but I should never determine my own thinking by theirs.

The measure of what is true and good requires only asking, with all sincerity and humility, what it is that I am, and how what I am fits within the order of the whole of what is. I am creature made to know and to love, within a Universe given purpose and meaning through the expression of knowledge and love. My own nature, as an aspect of all of Nature.

Let me focus on what I am here for, and then I can be certain I am doing my part. Let me rightly be myself, and the rest will take care of itself. I do not need to play the part of, or let myself be ruled by, anyone or anything else. Nature will decide under what circumstances I will live, and I will then decide what I am going to make of those circumstances. What is done to me, and what I will choose to do.

There is a beautiful pattern here. Things that lack awareness, with the power to be acted upon, are given direction by things that possess awareness, with the power to act for themselves. In turn, things that possess awareness will naturally be of service to one another, just by fulfilling themselves.

No man must live the life of another, or allow his life to be lived by another. When he masters himself through the exercise of his own wisdom and virtue, it is then that he can assist others in mastering themselves through the exercise of their own wisdom and virtue. 

Written in 12/2007

Epictetus, Golden Sayings 53

No, young man, for heaven's sake, but once you have heard these words, go home and say to yourself:

"It is not Epictetus that has told me these things; how indeed should he? No, it is some gracious God through him. Else it would never have entered his head to tell me them, he that is not used to speak to anyone thus. Well, then, let us not lie under the wrath of God, but be obedient unto Him."

No, indeed. But if a raven by its croaking bears you any sign, it is not the raven, but God that sends the sign through the raven. 

And if He signifies anything to you through human voice, will He not cause the man to say these words to you to, that you may know the power of the Divine—how He sends a sign to some in one way and to others in another, and on the greatest and highest matters of all signifies His will through the noblest messenger? 

What else does the poet mean:
  
I spake unto him once Myself, and sent  
Hermes the shining One, to check and warn him, 
The husband not to slay, nor woo the wife!