Dhammapada 40

Knowing that this body is fragile like a jar, and making this thought firm like a fortress, one should attack Mara, the tempter, with the weapon of knowledge, one should watch him when conquered, and should never rest.

Boethius, The Consolation 3.18

“And now what am I to say of the pleasures of the body? The desires of the flesh are full of cares, their fulfillment is full of remorse. What terrible diseases, what unbearable griefs, truly the fruits of sin, do they bring upon the bodies of those who enjoy them!

“I know not what pleasure their impulse affords, but any who cares to recall his indulgences of his passions, will know that the results of such pleasures are indeed gloomy. If any can show that those results are blessed with happiness, then may the beasts of the field be justly called blessed, for all their aims are urged toward the satisfying of their bodies' wants.

“The pleasures of wife and children may be most honorable; but Nature makes it all too plain that some have found torment in their children. How bitter is any such kind of suffering, I need not tell you now, for you have never known it, nor have any such anxiety now. Yet in this matter I would hold with my philosopher Euripides, that he who has no children is happy in his misfortune.”

—from Book 3, Prose 7

Boethius has considered how we follow all sorts of incomplete, imperfect, and conditional goods, and he has seen how pursuing various aspects of wealth, honor, influence, or popularity can never bring us to happiness. He now turns to the longing for pleasure, so base yet so powerful in its pull.

In one sense, we might say that pleasure can often stand behind so many of the other ends we seek; after all, we may want to have money, or power, or fame because their possession makes us feel good. For some of us, the appreciation of our worldly position is only valuable for the gratification it provides, that rush that comes from being important and influential.

However we stack the order of means and ends in our lives, surely nothing is worthwhile if it doesn’t lead to enjoyment? Boethius can sound like a killjoy here, because he appears to be suggesting that it is somehow shameful to have fun. Yet just as it was with all the other incomplete goods, so it is also with pleasure.

Wealth, influence, or honor can certainly be used well, but they can also be used poorly, and this is the necessary distinction we too often overlook. Whether they benefit us or harm us will depend completely upon how they help us to live well, and this follows from our understanding of why their presence or absence can be of advantage. 

Pleasure is no different. Some pleasures lift us up, and others bring us down; it is the merit of the actions from which they proceed that determine their worth. Since the value is relative, it can never be something good in and of itself, and it cannot be an end. It isn’t that pleasure is bad, but that seeking it for its own sake is bad.

The argument is perfectly reasonable, but if my passions are excited, I may foolishly choose to push aside the voice of reason. In that case, I can appeal to the immediate facts of cold, hard experience.

Let me ask myself, with all honesty, if wanting to be gratified, to the greatest degree possible, has actually made me happy or miserable? Has running after the satisfaction of the senses left me in a better or a worse state? I know the answer right away, as reluctant as I may be to admit it. I have my own nightmares about the suffering that comes from sloth, gluttony, and lust, and you will also have your own. I know that crippling sensation, often right before the dawn, where my intemperance makes me curse my very existence. There’s no pain like an unbridled pleasure.

It is perfectly natural for an animal to be driven only by its appetites, but for a man it is an abomination. Decisions moved by feeling without sound thinking won’t leave us feeling all that sound.

I may object that some pleasures are inherently good, like the pleasures of hearth and home. “You must be so happy,” I hear people say to one another, “you have a family!” Even there, however, a man can be in pain, because joy will come from virtue, and misery will come from vice.  Once again, the pleasure in something is only as good as the character behind it. It isn’t a family that is satisfying, but a caring family.

I need to look beyond pleasure alone, because it must always be tempered by an awareness of truth and a commitment to love.

Written in 9/2015

Epictetus, Golden Sayings 83

No man can rob us of our Will—no man can lord it over that!

Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 9.15

Things stand outside of us, themselves by themselves, neither knowing anything of themselves, nor expressing any judgment.

What is it, then, that does judge about them? The ruling faculty.

—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, Book 9.15 (tr Long)

I have always had the odd personal trait, for as long as I can remember, of being deeply affected by the influence of memory, and by the powerful emotions that memory can trigger. This has sometimes helped me to be more compassionate, but it has more often provided me with occasions to torture myself.

It is fitting, therefore, that Stoicism, so directed toward the managing of strong impressions, has been such an aid and comfort for me.

Years ago, I foolishly gave my affections to someone who considered me disposable, and I carelessly started living in a way that brought me only grief. When everything seemed to crash down around me, I found that certain places and things felt like kryptonite to me, exposing memories that I was not equipped to face. I would avoid them, thinking that they were somehow the cause of my suffering.

There was one spot, a grubby student flophouse, that seemed to have a particular hold on me, because of the recollections it brought forth. I would go out of my way not to walk down that street, even if it meant taking a lengthy detour. Out of sight, I thought, out of mind.

One day, a friend was driving me home, and he ran into heavy traffic on the main road. Looking for a shortcut, he pulled off on a side street, and I was suddenly horrified to realize that we were going to drive by that old house. I broke out in an overwhelming panic, shaking and stuttering, all because of a house.

I only have to look back at that moment to understand what I had done to myself. It was just a building, in a certain location, where certain things had once happened. That house had no thoughts or intentions about me, and contained within itself no good or evil for me whatsoever.

Everything that I violently felt, and everything that was racing through my head, proceeded only from my own judgment. It meant something to me because I had chosen to give it that meaning; it had done nothing at all, as I had done it all to myself.

The mind and the emotions move in subtle and mysterious ways, and they are hardly altered with a simple flick of a switch. Yet it was after that moment that I began to realize how I had been building up unhealthy habits of thinking, like some thick residue. It was going to be up to me to change my estimation, however much time or commitment it would take.

The circumstances didn’t make me. I made myself out of the circumstances.

Written in 8/2008

Thomas a Kempis, The Imitation of Christ 1.12

Of the uses of adversity

1. It is good for us that we sometimes have sorrows and adversities, for they often make a man lay to heart that he is only a stranger and sojourner, and may not put his trust in any worldly thing. It is good that we sometimes endure contradictions, and are hardly and unfairly judged, when we do and mean what is good. For these things help us to be humble, and shield us from vain-glory. For then we seek the more earnestly the witness of God, when men speak evil of us falsely, and give us no credit for good.

2. Therefore ought a man to rest wholly upon God, so that he need not seek much comfort at the hand of men. When a man who fears God is afflicted or tried or oppressed with evil thoughts, then he sees that God is the more necessary unto him, since without God he can do no good thing. Then he is heavy of heart, he groans, he cries out for the very disquietness of his heart. Then he grows weary of life, and would fain depart and be with Christ. By all this he is taught that in the world there can be no perfect security or fullness of peace.

The Same Weapons

Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 9.14

All things are the same, familiar in experience, and ephemeral in time, and worthless in the matter.

Everything now is just as it was in the time of those whom we have buried.

—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, Book 9.14 (tr Long)

They say that the more things change, the more they stay the same, and I will sometimes find myself frustrated with an expression like that. Well, which is it? The pedantry of the academic will say very much about very little, and the platitudes of the New Age guru will say very little about very much, but I feel I am no closer to understanding whether everything is constant, or everything is variable.

If everything comes and goes, is born and then dies, how is everything also lasting?

I only get frustrated when I don’t want to clearly distinguish, when I make it more complex or simpler than it has to be.

As is so often the case, an analogy can help me. The players will change, but it is still the same play. There will be different actors behind the mask, but they are all, in their own ways, performing the very same roles.

The particulars change. We are all different individuals, in different places, facing different situations. Each one passes on into another.

The universal remains unchanging. All things express the same substance, in the same Universe, and repeat the same patterns. All are only aspects of the one and the same.

My wife will make a new pot of Hungarian goulash, which will be consumed very quickly, but it follows the very same recipe made by my great-grandmother, and probably even long before that. This is how things are both ephemeral and familiar.

So Heraclitus was in a sense right, that you can’t step in the same river twice, and Parmenides was also in a sense right, that being is one, change only an illusion. It all depends on whether we are looking at it from the bottom up, or from the top down, at the parts or at the whole.

In daily practice, when I feel overwhelmed by how quickly everything seems different, I can remember that down beneath it all, it is still the same as it ever was. Even as the sun rises and sets, there is nothing new under it; in an ever-unfolding Universe, every variation or combination has already been, and it will be again.

When I am tossed about, let me find strength and comfort in what is constant and one, while letting go of what is passing and many.

Written in 8/2008

Tao Te Ching 25

There was something undefined and complete, coming into existence before Heaven and Earth. How still it was and formless, standing alone, and undergoing no change, reaching everywhere and in no danger of being exhausted! It may be regarded as the Mother of all things.

I do not know its name, and I give it the designation of the Tao, the Way or Course. Making an effort further to give it a name I call it The Great.

Great, it passes on in constant flow. Passing on, it becomes remote. Having become remote, it returns. 

Therefore the Tao is great; Heaven is great; Earth is great; and the sage king is also great. In the universe there are four that are great, and the sage king is one of them.

Man takes his law from the Earth; the Earth takes its law from Heaven; Heaven takes its law from the Tao. The law of the Tao is its being what it is.

Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 9.13

Today I have got out of all trouble, or rather I have cast out all trouble, for it was not outside, but within and in my opinions.

—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, Book 9.13 (tr Long)

I think it was somewhere around the age of seven or eight that all of us at school started thinking in terms of “getting into trouble”. While we may have wanted to do certain things, like play hide-and-go-seek in the school boiler room, or chew bubble gum during class, we were now worried about getting caught, and about all the unpleasant consequences that went with that. A scolding from the teacher was bearable, but the call home to the parents most certainly was not.

And since then, I’ve had this nagging habit of assuming that trouble is something that happens to me. I will catch myself judging an action by the possible rewards or punishments, by whether I will or will not be seen, by what others will think and do, and it is my disordered attitude that is, in fact, the real source of trouble.

Events are simply things that occur, with a meaning and a purpose for themselves, but for me they will only become good or bad by the way I consider them and make use of them. The benefit or the harm, the contentment or the trouble, follow entirely from my estimation. Give me any circumstance, and I can employ it to improve or to harm my character; these things are given to me as equal, until I tip the balance.

This is a classic principle of Stoicism, easy to say, but difficult to understand, and even more difficult to live in practice. I’m so accustomed to thinking I need to avoid problems that I look only to the situation around me. I forget that I don’t need to “get out” of trouble at all, but I rather need to get the trouble out of me.

To strengthen the right way of thinking, in the face of everything that tells me otherwise, is a path to accountability and freedom. As we all grew older, the stakes got higher, but the game remained the same. Even if it was now about losing that lucrative job instead of just getting sent to the principal’s office, we were still letting ourselves be pushed around by everything external, forgetting to nourish first the virtue that is internal.

Many people like to tell us to “grow up”, and by this they usually mean following the rules and doing what we are told. Yet I hardly think of this as maturity at all, since it dodges responsibility on every level. Maturity is the building of character, not of conformity.

And notice that Marcus Aurelius isn’t appealing to some grand plan of life here, from the cradle to the grave, where all the conditions are lined up as I might prefer them. No, he speaks of today, of the here and now, of knowing that I am my own master at this moment.

Let all the rest, past, present, or future, be what it will be, and let me immediately choose to be the best man that I can be. This is a life without trouble.

Written in 8/2008

The Prize

Ecclesiastes 3:16-22

[16] Moreover I saw under the sun that in the place of justice, even there was wickedness, and in the place of righteousness, even there was wickedness.
[17] I said in my heart, God will judge the righteous and the wicked, for he has appointed a time for every matter, and for every work.
[18] I said in my heart with regard to the sons of men that God is testing them to show them that they are but beasts.
[19] For the fate of the sons of men and the fate of beasts is the same; as one dies, so dies the other. They all have the same breath, and man has no advantage over the beasts; for all is vanity.
[20] All go to one place; all are from the dust, and all turn to dust again.
[21] Who knows whether the spirit of man goes upward and the spirit of the beast goes down to the earth?
[22] So I saw that there is nothing better than that a man should enjoy his work, for that is his lot; who can bring him to see what will be after him?

Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 9.12

Labor not as one who is wretched, nor yet as one who would be pitied or admired; but direct your will to one thing only—to put yourself in motion and to check yourself, as the social reason requires.

—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, Book 9.12 (tr Long)

Observe how often “work” is a dirty word. There is a perfectly good reason for this, if we only consider it as something that someone else wants us to do, or as a means to making money and acquiring status, or as a burden instead of a blessing.

Many of us will suffer through all the working we need to do in life, only so that we can rush through a little bit of the playing we want to do in life, and it rarely occurs to us that the two could go hand in hand.

This will happen when we reduce a person to a producer of something that can be bought and sold, one commodity used to make other commodities, instead of seeing a person as a creature simply made to live well, and thereby to be happy. Work is not restricted to this or that career, but should rightly be the work of being human.

And while we like to complain and be miserable about our jobs, even as we make the value of our lives dependent on the money and reputation that go with a certain profession, I really do not need to play along with that game. A good life requires very little in the way of externals, far less than we might think, and all the rest I am complaining about involves the acquisition of vanities.

No, the work of the good life asks us only to rule ourselves, in cooperation with others. Even if we were made slaves in body, like Epictetus, we do not need to be slaves in soul, and even if another dedicates himself to doing me wrong, it is only my job to do him right.

Work will be a joy, not a hardship, when it is the act of living itself, not something I think I need to do in order to live.

My work is to be decent and kind, not to be rich and important. It starts and stops not by a time clock, but by the guidance of virtue.

Many years ago, while going home on the subway, a stranger looked over at me and grumbled, “Tough day at work?”

“It never ends, does it?” I replied.

“Tell me about it! So you take your job home with you too, huh?”

I smiled. “Can’t be helped if I want it done right.”

He nodded knowingly, though he had no idea that we were talking about two completely different things.

Written in 8/2008

IMAGE: Vincent van Gogh, Morning, Going Out to Work (1890)

The Art of Peace 14

Contemplate the workings of this world, listen to the words of the wise, and take all that is good as your own. 

With this as your base, open your own door to truth. Do not overlook the truth that is right before you. 

Study how water flows in a valley stream, smoothly and freely between the rocks. Also learn from holy books and wise people. 

Everything - even mountains, rivers, plants and trees - should be your teacher.

Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 9.11

If you are able, correct by teaching those who do wrong; but if you cannot, remember that indulgence is given to you for this purpose.

And the gods, too, are indulgent to such persons; and for some purposes they even help them to get health, wealth, reputation; so kind they are. And it is in your power also; or say, who hinders you?

—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, Book 9.11 (tr Long)

I shudder when I think of all the times I was convinced another had done me wrong, and then in my righteous attempts to set him right, I only committed a wrong myself. How sad that my effort at correcting a perceived offense resulted only in compounding the offense, that I managed to make a bad thing even worse.

I can rule and change myself, but I cannot rule and change another man; only he can do that for himself. I can certainly inspire him, advise him, or guide him by example, but he will be the one who decides how he will live.

If I restrain him by force, punish him by deprivation, or intimidate him with sanctions, I may hinder his actions, but he will be the one who decides if he alters his mind and his will.

I should be careful that in my zeal for retribution, I do not end up becoming the more brutal man. I can hardly expect to teach respect when I fail to practice it.

And if he does not listen to me? Then I can recognize that he does wrong, while also choosing to treat him right. I can reject the thinking, without rejecting the one who thinks. I can condemn the act, and continue to love the person.

Whenever I am faced with vice that is beyond my own power, the virtue within my power calls me to tolerance. Once I have encouraged another in every way I can, I must still allow him his own way. I will bear with him, I will support him, I will give completely of myself to help him make himself better, but I cannot carry him if he refuses to be carried.

I do not think of tolerance as a permissive relativism, where the real difference between right and wrong is confused.

I do not think of tolerance as a smug condescension, where one simply looks down upon others as ignorant fools.

I do not think of tolerance as a begrudging hardness, where offenses are only suffered with gritted teeth.

No, tolerance is patience, it is a conviction, it is a true expression of compassion. Providence itself practices tolerance, because it permits us to exercise our freedom, even while never turning away from us, or refusing assistance to us.

I can hardly go wrong by mirroring the wisdom and love of Providence.

Written in 8/2008

Revenge?

Dhammapada 39

If a man's thoughts are not dissipated, if his mind is not perplexed, if he has ceased to worry about good or evil, then there is no fear for him while he is watchful.

Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 9.10

Both man and God and the Universe produce fruit; at the proper seasons each produces it.

But if usage has especially fixed these terms to the vine and like things, this is nothing. Reason produces fruit both for all and for itself, and there are produced from it other things of the same kind as reason itself.

—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, Book 9.10 (tr Long)

When I am worried if I am living well, I will ask myself what I have achieved, and in asking what I have achieved, I will then be tempted to consider what I have acquired for myself, how fully I control my circumstances, and whether or not I have increased in influence. I will be drawn to measuring myself only by the utility of the consequences, while neglecting the character within the action.

This would be as if I merely judged a vine by how much profit I can make from selling the grapes, or a work of art by how much praise it receives, or a friend by how much he amuses me. Fruits are more than things to be cultivated, harvested, or eaten, just as any of the goods in life are more than things to be bought, sold, or consumed.

All things bear fruit by simply expressing, fulfilling, and perfecting their own natures, and by doing so also assisting other things to express, fulfill, and perfect their own natures. The benefit lies in them authentically being themselves, in harmony with everything else.

Or as an old hippie friend of mine used to say, “Commit to love, and pass it on.”

I may want to do what is right, but then I become discouraged when I don’t see certain tangible results. I may have been honest, but I then found myself deceived. I may have been compassionate, but was only met with contempt. I may have given, but others gave nothing back. I may have struggled mightily, but no one noticed.

I’m discouraged because I’m not really recognizing the fruits of my actions; I am failing to understand what it means to achieve. The benefit for me is only in how I increase my own virtue, and the benefit I can offer others is only in how I encourage them to increase their own virtue. There is the happiness. I need not want any other reward beyond that, as long as I have done what I should do, content that I may not win riches, or fame, or gratification.

Frustrated with the obstacles of life, I often don’t see the small but powerful ways my actions can make me better, and can help others to be better. I overlook them precisely because they are humble, and because they are subtle. 

The big events of life were not the school graduation, or the lucrative job offer, or making the perfect business deal, or appearing on the front page of the newspaper. No, they were what William Wordsworth called

. . .that best portion of a good man's life, His little, nameless, unremembered, acts of kindness and of love.

Or as George MacDonald put it,

If instead of a gem, or even of a flower, we could cast the gift of a lovely thought into the heart of a friend, that would be giving, as the angels, I suppose, must give.

These are the real fruits of the good life. God produces them by passing Himself on to us. Nature produces them by passing them from one thing to the next. We produce them by passing them to one another.

Written in 8/2008

Epictetus, Golden Sayings 82

And now, when you see brothers, apparently good friends and living in accord, do not immediately pronounce anything upon their friendship, though they should affirm it with an oath, though they should declare, "For us to live apart in a thing impossible!" 

For the heart of a bad man is faithless, unprincipled, inconstant, now overpowered by one impression, now by another. Ask not the usual questions, were they born of the same parents, reared together, and under the same tutor; but ask this only, in what they place their real interest—whether in outward things or in the Will. 

If in outward things, call them not friends, any more than faithful, constant, brave or free. Call them not even human beings, if you have any sense. . . . 

But should you hear that these men hold the Good to lie only in the Will, only in rightly dealing with the things of sense, take no more trouble to inquire whether they are father and son, or brothers, or comrades of long standing; but, sure of this one thing, pronounce as boldly that they are friends as that they are faithful and just.

For where else can Friendship be found than where Modesty is, where there is an interchange of things fair and honest, and of such only?

Boethius, The Consolation 3.17

“From like beginning rise all men on earth,

for there is one Father of all things;

one is the guide of everything.

'Tis He who gave the sun his rays, and horns unto the moon.

'Tis He who set mankind on earth, and in the heavens the stars.

He put within our bodies spirits that were born in heaven.

And thus a highborn race has He set forth in man.

Why do you men rail on your forefathers?

If ye look to your beginning and your author, which is God,

is any man degenerate or base

but he who by his own vices cherishes base things

and leaves that beginning which was his?”

—from Book 3, Poem 6

Throughout my years in college and graduate school, it was common for us to sit around and bemoan the state of the world. They say a little learning is a dangerous thing, and that is perhaps no more true than among those who have only recently been exposed to the wide world of art, literature, and philosophy.

Having gathered together bits and pieces of clever phrases and impressive ideas, we would go on and on about how and why everything was wrong. Gathered at some trendy café or bar, constantly smoking and drinking, we would cast our blame, and highlight exactly who and what had to be fixed.

I could blame my parents for my bad attitude, the politicians for the corruption, the corporations for the greed, religions for the ignorance, and all my ancestors for making a mess of the lot. Yes, I could even blame God, if he existed, for creating the world so wrong, and I could even blame God, if he didn’t exist, simply for not existing.

Then there were those moments of crystal clarity when I saw that I needed to be accountable to myself. There was little point, as Chesterton said, in worrying about what was wrong without knowing what was right.

Let me consider what I am, a creature made to know what is true and to love what is good. God was not mistaken to make us this way, and my parents were not wrong to bring me into the world. Politicians, businessmen, or priests don’t determine how I will live, and what anyone has thought or done in generations before me is not the measure of what I can think or do right now.

I should hardly think myself better or worse because of the circumstances that are passed on to me. I am not rich because I inherited my father’s earnings, or poor because he may have squandered them away. I am rich or poor, not in possessions or in standing but in character, when I choose to live well for myself.

That first gift of human nature is not to blame, and the way others may abuse their human nature has not made me miserable. God gave me reason and choice, so I am the one who decides what I will make of it, to nurture it into virtue or twist it into vice.

Are others not as I would like them to be? That is entirely up to them. Am I not as I would like myself to be? That is entirely up to me. Let me attend to what is my own, and begin the work from the inside out. God made me to be good, and now I should complete the task, whether or not others may resolve to do the same. 

Written in 9/2015

Stirrings of Good