Sayings of Socrates 26

I did not go where I could do no good to you or to myself; but where I could do the greatest good privately to everyone of you, there I went, and sought to persuade every man among you that he must look to himself, and seek virtue and wisdom before he looks to his private interests, and look to the State before he looks to the interests of the State; and that this should be the order that he observes in all his actions. What shall be done to such a one? Doubtless some good thing. . . .

—Plato, Apology 36c–d

Musonius Rufus, Lectures 3.2

If this is true, by what reasoning would it ever be appropriate for men to search out and consider how they may lead good lives, which is exactly the study of philosophy, but inappropriate for women?

Could it be that it is fitting for men to be good, but not for women? Let us examine in detail the qualities which are suitable for a woman who would lead a good life, for it will appear that each one of them would accrue to her most readily from the study of philosophy.

The false opposition between male and female is only one of so many ways that we find to divide and separate the world. It is certainly right to distinguish the way things are different, though we do ourselves a great disservice when we forget how they are also the same. A contrast is confused with a conflict; a complement is confused with a contradiction.

What Musonius says here about gender can apply just as easily to other false divisions we impose upon ourselves. Besides facing men against women, we are drawn to breeding discord between races, classes, nations, religions, or political ideologies.

What all these instances share in common is how they insist that one side is right precisely because the other is wrong, that some people are better on account of other people being worse, and that this idea must be true through being at war with another idea that must be false.

Why are we tempted to do this? I can only think that it reflects an attempt to discover our own value, but in a cheap and easy way that draws attention to the failings of the other.

I know that whenever I have fallen into this trap, which I have done more often than I care to admit, I somehow feel more special when I oppose myself to someone or something else. I make myself bigger, taller, or stronger by making others smaller, shorter, or weaker.

It becomes so effortless to cast blame, to diminish, or to dispose that I may hardly be aware that I am doing it. I have to admit that I am drawn to such a twisted solution because it diverts me from having to carefully consider myself.

We see contradictions where logic demands none. We build walls to avoid facing the beautiful yet terrifying prospect that our neighbors are just the same as we are. Picking enemies we can hate requires far less soul-searching than embracing the friends we should love.

Why do I think I should have the opportunity to study and practice philosophy? Well, I have reason, so it is necessary for me to learn to live well. Does a woman also have reason? Or that man who has a different color? Or that group over there that speak in words I can’t understand? Does my political opponent also possess a mind and a will?

“No! They are a lesser form of the species, barbarians, barely human!” We have all heard that, time and time again, both in the past and in the present. The opponents may change, while the ignorance remains the same.

My selfishness and narrow thinking do not want me to admit that if I have certain human needs, responsibilities, or rights, then every other human being also has those same needs, responsibilities or rights.

I may prefer to ignore this, because it is more immediately gratifying for me to receive instead of give, to exclude instead of accept. Resentment becomes a sort of universal “get out of jail free” card. If I can blame others, I can cast aside my own sense of accountability for myself. False division is an excuse for my own failure.

A truth is only universal when it applies too all instances, not just to some. If a man should be wise, brave, temperate, and just because of his humanity, then a woman should also be wise, brave, temperate and just because of her humanity. This will also be true if someone is rich or poor, young or old, or waving any color of flag.

You don’t need to roll your eyes at me, and tell me that this is sentimental claptrap. The passions may appreciate it, but it is reason that demands it.

Written in 4/1999

Tao Te Ching 51

All things are produced by the Tao, and nourished by its outflowing operation. They receive their forms according to the nature of each, and are completed according to the circumstances of their condition. Therefore all things without exception honor the Tao, and exalt its out outflowing operation.

This honoring of the Tao and exalting of its operation is not the result of any ordination, but always a spontaneous tribute.

Thus it is that the Tao produces all things, nourishes them, brings them to their full growth, nurses them, completes them, matures them, maintains them, and overspreads them.

It produces them and makes no claim to the possession of them; it carries them through their processes and does not vaunt its ability in doing so; it brings them to maturity and exercises no control over them—this is called its mysterious operation.

Seneca, On Peace of Mind 2.1

Chapter 2

Seneca:

I have long been silently asking myself, my friend Serenus, to what I should liken such a condition of mind, and I find that nothing more closely resembles it than the conduct of those who, after having recovered from a long and serious illness, occasionally experience slight touches and twinges, and, although they have passed through the final stages of the disease, yet have suspicions that it has not left them, and though in perfect health yet hold out their pulse to be felt by the physician, and whenever they feel warm suspect that the fever is returning.

Such men, Serenus, are not unhealthy, but they are not accustomed to being healthy; just as even a quiet sea or lake nevertheless displays a certain amount of ripple when its waters are subsiding after a storm.

I am hardly a strapping fellow, but I will not get sick often. Yet when I do, it will hit me like a ton of bricks, and it then takes me ages to return to form. I do wonder if the period of recovery can be worse than the actual disease, and I almost prefer the few days of sharp pain and delirious fever to the many weeks of dull aches and draining lethargy.

As is so often the case, the patterns of the mind reflect the patterns of the body. That moment where everything hangs in the balance, where a decision will be about far more than life or death, but about redemption or corruption? Yes, I will face that, and while I know that it will hurt, I also know that it will define my purpose. The meaning in it is clear.

But that moment where nothing stands out, where it hardly seems to matter if I turn right or I turn left, and all that is left is dullness and worry? No, I would rather not face that, and while the hurt doesn’t seem nearly as bad, I have no sense of its purpose. The meaning in it is not clear.

Yes, there is that sudden and critical time, both terrifying and glorious, when all else falls away, and I need to make my stand. Then there is the creeping silence that follows, when the mundane has returned, and I need to maintain my convictions. That second bit is not so easy.

There is the temptation to doubt again, where those little nagging concerns come back. Am I really any better? Wait, was that an old demon peeping around the corner? A noble commitment must now be built into a lasting habit. I am distracted by petty things, discouraged by every pang, convinced I am about to relapse. It becomes clear that the long-distance run requires something very different than the sprint.

It’s funny how so many powerful things in this life have no name at all, perhaps because we don’t actually wish to acknowledge them. This feeling is surely one of them, where the word “recovery” seems quite insufficient. Calling it the “long road of recovery” does it more justice.

Written in 5/2011

Ecclesiastes 12:8-14

[8] Vanity of vanities, says the Preacher; all is vanity.
[9] Besides being wise, the Preacher also taught the people knowledge, weighing and studying and arranging proverbs with great care.
[10] The Preacher sought to find pleasing words, and uprightly he wrote words of truth.
[11]The sayings of the wise are like goads, and like nails firmly fixed are the collected sayings which are given by one Shepherd.
[12] My son, beware of anything beyond these. Of making many books there is no end, and much study is a weariness of the flesh.
[13] The end of the matter; all has been heard. Fear God, and keep his commandments; for this is the whole duty of man.
[14] For God will bring every deed into judgment, with every secret thing, whether good or evil. 

Musonius Rufus, Lectures 3.1

Lecture 3: That women too should study philosophy.

When someone asked him if women too should study philosophy, he began to discourse on the theme that they should, in somewhat the following manner.

Women as well as men, he said, have received from the gods the gift of reason, which we use in our dealings with one another and by which we judge whether a thing is good or bad, right or wrong.

Likewise the female has the same senses as the male; namely sight, hearing, smell, and the others.

Also both have the same parts of the body, and one has nothing more than the other.

Moreover, not men alone, but women too, have a natural inclination toward virtue and the capacity for acquiring it, and it is the nature of women no less than men to be pleased by good and just acts and to reject the opposite of these.

I have become accustomed to thinking very differently than most others, for better or for worse. I do not expect to determine what someone else will think, and I try not to be offended when he expresses his disapproval. Some of this has to do with an eccentric disposition, but most of it comes from the sort of values I have chosen for myself. I am not content to merely follow the current trend, or to embrace the latest “—ism”.

Some people seem quite surprised that Musonius Rufus held what they consider to be such “progressive” views on women, and I usually suggest that common sense is hardly old or new, but simply timeless. I believe it was Coco Chanel who said that “Fashion fades, only style remains the same.”

The regular assumption, of course, is that those in the past were backward and bigoted, and only now, in our better age, have we become so enlightened and fair. I suspect, however, that human nature doesn’t change all that much. There have always been wisdom and ignorance, and there have always been virtue and vice, just mixed together in various ways.

For as long as I can remember, people have been asking me if I am a feminist. I am not sure how to answer, because I am not even sure what the term means to everyone; I have heard so many differing definitions over the years that I can no longer keep track.

Is it about finding what is common and shared to all human beings, regardless of their gender, or is it about continuing to insist on divisions? Does it involve finding ways for all of us to be better, or does it require that someone else remains worse?

Musonius is just pointing to a basic insight about humanity, that for the many variations between people, they still remain people, gifted with reason and will, and made for exactly the same end. Yes, I can consider the accidents, like gender, or race, or age, or preferences, or points of view, and they will only confuse me if I do not remember what is essential beneath them. It’s only justice when it’s universal, only dignity when it’s free from the conditions of circumstance.

Of course there are differences between men and women, at the levels of their minds and bodies, just as there are also differences between all individuals. It would be foolish of me to think that this is all that matters, or that it doesn’t matter at all, or not to see that how it matters depends upon first finding what is common. The degrees exist within the kind.

Both a man and a woman are able to form their own judgments, and thereby to inform their own sense of moral worth.

Both a man and a woman experience the same world, through the same powers of perception.

Both a man and woman possess the same sorts of bodies, each quite capable of meetings the demands of a good life.

Most importantly, both a man and a woman are made for the same purpose, to know and to love, to seek virtue and to avoid vice, and the final merit of either will be completely identical.

Thoughtful and decent folks, men and women alike, from any walk of life, have always understood that the variations of the sexes complement one another, and are never intended to be in conflict with one another. This will only be possible if I first look at the person. Philosophy, as a means to becoming fully human, is everyone’s calling.

Written in 4/1999

Fragments

The Art of Peace 42

The Way of a Warrior
Cannot be encompassed  
By words or in letters:  
Grasp the essence  
And move on toward realization! 

Arena, "Crying for Help IV"

As a reference for Seneca, On Peace of Mind 1.13:

Some people will claim that asking for help is a sign of weakness, and others will see it as a true sign of strength. When Serenus asks Seneca to help him overcome his doubts and fears, Seneca actually answers.

It is never a light thing, just because the suffering of another happens to be inconvenient. When others seek our assistance, we can finally put our money where our mouth is. By doing real good for others, we also do good for ourselves.

I listened to a lot of music during what I call my Wilderness Years, where the only people who barely stuck with me were my closest family. Even they had no idea what to do with me. I spent my time alone, and I cried out for help all of the time. It all seemed to fall on deaf ears.

"Give it time. It will get better."

Arena was a sort of offshoot of my absolutely favorite band, Marillion, and I would listen to their first album over and over. This track was one I looked forward to hearing, even as I dreaded what it had to say. It described exactly how I felt every day, and I would either crawl down a hole or lash out.

I remember going in complete desperation to a professor I had in graduate school, a Jesuit priest, and I bared my soul to him. He suggested prayer, and perhaps some medications, and sent me on my way.

As I walked out, I then saw him meeting with a happy crowd of students, all eager and excited, to go see a movie together.

To this day, I think of how much it would have meant to me if they had asked me to join them. I even stood there for a moment, secretly hoping the idea would magically pop into their heads. It obviously didn't, and I walked home alone.

Was I angry then? Yes. Now I can only think that when someone asks me for anything, absolutely anything, I need to give all of what I can. We are at our best together. 

Arena, "Crying for Help IV", from Songs from the Lion's Cage (1995)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2Jghe46M6tM

Who makes these choices?
Who waves the final hand?
When wisdom is more than  age or reason
Who makes these choices?
Who makes the final stand?
When solitude is all that you believe

It's all the same
And you really should have known
It's all the same
When your heart grows cold and you're all alone
This has no name
This feeling that I used to know
It's here again
I can see the tortured souls as they cry for help 

Take my hand
I'll lead you through the traps and snares
Take my hand
I'll feed you and I'll clothe you like
My only child
There is nothing left to fear
My only child
There is nothing left to hurt you now!

Who makes these choices?
Who waves the final hand?
When all around
I hear the sound
Of pleading for a helping hand
Who makes those choices?
Who makes the final stand?
When far away I hear them say
They couldn't give a damn!
Give a damn! 

They're crying for help.
Help me!
They're crying for help
Help me! . . .

Seneca, On Peace of Mind 1.13

I beg you, therefore, if you have any remedy by which you could stop this vacillation of mine, to deem me worthy to owe my peace of mind to you.

I am well aware that these oscillations of mind are not perilous and that they threaten me with no serious disorder. To express what I complain of by an exact simile, I am not suffering from a storm, but from seasickness. Take from me, then, this evil, whatever it may be, and help one who is in distress within sight of land.

I have finally come to realize that most of those who say they will help, even when they promise it with the finest words, will not help at all. This is difficult for me, because I would like to think the best of human nature.

I still hope that people will find understanding and compassion within their souls, but I no longer expect it. My own failures at understanding and compassion, due to my own narrow sense of self, should be the first things to remind me that I cannot demand what I have failed to give. There’s nothing like knowing you have been a bastard for you to offer sympathy to all the other bastards.

I have asked people to give me assistance more often than I can count, and I have stood there abandoned more often than I can count. I have struggled to not become bitter, and to rather become more accepting and forgiving. The Golden Rule demands no less.

Yet I cringe when I read Serenus’ appeal. He is, as they say, putting himself “out there”, revealing a weakness within himself. How easy it would be to throw a tired platitude his way, and then to ignore him completely. That’s the pattern I’m most used to.

“Oh, don’t worry. It will be just fine.” “Have you prayed about it?” “Hey, we all have problems, right? What makes you so special?”

Serenus asks with urgency, even as he admits that he is not in an existential crisis. He suffers from a lingering malaise, not from some life-threatening danger. He will not necessarily lose his whole character, though he feels it being gnawed at constantly.

He is seasick, not drowning.

Nevertheless, his need is real. The death by a thousand cuts can be far more troubling than the executioner’s axe. Give me light, or give me darkness, but I can’t bear this constant grayness.

As he makes this appeal, I can only feel with him. I know exactly where he is coming from, being neither here nor there, with just enough spirit to live, and not enough spite to die. These are the folks we too often overlook, those who are in between. They cry out, and we look the other way.

Seneca was hardly a perfect man, caught in all sorts of silly political machinations back in his time, but he had the decency to give Serenus a thoughtful and caring reply. He wasn’t great because he wrote fine books, or rubbed shoulders with the rich and powerful, but because he chose to help his friends.

Written in 4/2011

Sayings of Heraclitus 16

How can one hide from that which never sets?

Stoic Conversations 22

"I'm really interested in Stoicism. I think it may fit in my life."

"I'm glad to hear it. I have extra copies of the Meditations and the Handbook sitting around, so let me know if you'd like them."

"Yeah, maybe, but I'm turned off by some parts of it. I'm not sure I can buy into all of it."

"It isn't a product, or a church, or a club. There are guys on the internet who will sell you courses, or discussion groups, or trinkets, but they are making themselves important. It's about you honestly facing yourself. There is no buying or selling."

"Sure, but I don't believe in God. I'm a materialist, so I don't think there is any deeper meaning to the world. And I don't believe in virtue, because morals are just things other people impose on us. And I don't believe we can really know anything about what life means. There is no such thing as a truth for all of us."

"Which part of Stoicism appeals to you then? What else is left?"

"The part where I have power over myself."

"Then Stoicism may not be for you right now. Read some Sartre, or maybe some Nietzsche. The big picture of Stoicism is one of a Universe charged with awareness and purpose, a human nature within the order of all of Nature, and our own ability to understand and to live well within that whole. I'm not sure that you can practice Stoicism without that core of metaphysics, ethics, and logic. There's no place for cherry-picking."

"But I like the the power part."

"I also have an extra copy of Nietzsche's Twilight of the Idols and The Anti-Christ. Read those works, and then tell me where you stand."

"Can I have the other books too?"

"Wait a bit. Come back when you're ready to move beyond Existentialism. Otherwise those other books will just sit idly on your shelf." 

Boethius, The Consolation of Philosophy 4.8

“I would have you understand what is this strength of power. We have a little while ago laid down that nothing is more powerful than the highest good?”

“Yes,” I said.

“But the highest good can do no evil?”

“No.”

“Is there any one who thinks that men are all-powerful?”

“No one,” I said, “unless he be mad.”

“And yet those same men can do evil.”

 “Would to heaven they could not!” I cried.

“Then a powerful man is capable only of all good; but even those who are capable of evil, are not capable of all. So it is plain that those who are capable of evil are capable of less.

“Further, we have shown that all power is to be counted among objects of desire, and all objects of desire have their relation to the good, as to the copestone of their nature. But the power of committing crime has no possible relation to the good. Therefore it is not an object of desire. Yet, as we said, all power is to be desired. Therefore the power of doing evil is no power at all.

“For all these reasons the power of good men and the weakness of evil men are apparent. So Plato's opinion is plain that  ‘the wise alone are able to do what they desire, but unscrupulous men can only labor at what they like, they cannot fulfill their real desires.’ They do what they like so long as they think that they will gain through their pleasures the good which they desire; but they do not gain it, since nothing evil ever reaches happiness.”

—from Book 4, Prose 2

My confusion about the nature of strength and weakness comes from my confusion about the nature of good and evil. Yes, I am right to think that power rests in the ability to achieve something, but no, I am wrong to think that evil is a “something” at all; nothing is gained, because nothing is fulfilled within my very nature. The degree to which anything is powerful is in direct proportion to the degree to which it is good, and so the more I turn to vice, the weaker I become.

That which possesses perfect goodness possesses perfect power, and we can surely call it Divine. That which lacks any goodness at all would possess no power at all, for it would lack any existence. 

In between we will find the full range of all created things, stronger as they work to achieve their ends, weaker as they fail in them. If I understand this rightly, I can see it so clearly in our own human nature, where by our own judgments and choices we may become more like the gods, or wither away into near nothingness.

I am misled because I see the people we usually consider as being powerful, and I see them apparently having the means to get the things they want. They win pleasure, and riches, and fame, and they do so in all sorts of forceful or manipulative ways. Yet how do these things actually give them what they want? They may change the circumstances around them, while they diminish what is within them. I cannot possibly believe they are making themselves happy, because they are not making themselves any better; they are, in fact, making themselves far worse, by thinking and acting in ways that contradict their purpose to know and to love.

If my happiness is my own good, how could something good come from doing something bad? How can understanding be achieved by choosing ignorance? How can love be practiced by pursuing hatred? It seems rather silly to be walking in the opposite direction of where I need to be going.

At a time when I thought I could possibly learn to be an author, producing profound short stories while sitting at a café in Paris or a pub in Dublin, a writing teacher reminded me that an antagonist in my story will hardly come across properly if I make him content and peaceable.

“He is your villain, and does dastardly things, precisely because he is a grasping man, dissatisfied with himself and his world, and he is desperately trying to find happiness, however twisted a form of it he perceives. He is always in conflict with others, precisely because he doesn’t have the very things he needs.”

“Doesn’t he see that he will never become happy by playing his games?”

“Ah, and there is the tragedy of the villain! Either he struggles to turn his own life around, or he perishes by his own hand!”

I never became that bohemian writer, of course, but I remember that advice, and I have unashamedly passed it on to my own students over the years. It wasn’t just a lesson about writing, but a lesson about living.

If I take the time to observe carefully, my daily experience only confirms this, and I should rightly wonder why I am still so impressed by the false achievements of wicked people. I have known many dishonest, selfish, and violent types in my life, but never once have I known one to give any indication of being at peace with himself or with his world. It isn’t that his vice may lead him to misery; it is that his vice already is his misery.

Written in 10/2015

Dhammapada 68

No, that deed is well done of which a man does not repent, and the reward of which he receives gladly and cheerfully. 

Musonius Rufus, Lectures 2.4

Of what, then, is this evidence if not of the existence of an innate inclination of the human soul toward goodness and nobleness, and of the presence of the seeds of virtue in each one of us?

Moreover, because it is entirely to our advantage to be good, some of us deceive ourselves into thinking that we are really good, while others of us are ashamed to admit that we are not.

Why then pray, when one who has not learned letters or music or gymnastics never claims to have knowledge of these arts nor makes any pretense of knowing them, and is quite unable even to name a teacher to whom he went, why, I say, does everyone profess that he has virtue?

It is because none of those other skills is natural to man, and no human being is born with a natural faculty for them, whereas an inclination toward virtue is inborn in each one of us.

Every sort of thing is made to fulfill its own nature, in its own distinct way. Every other condition is superfluous to that, perhaps preferable, yet hardly necessary.

We all know that we should be good, even as we are not always sure how to be good. We want this so much that we delude ourselves into believing that anything we do will make us good.

No, it will not.

We see certain things we desire, and we think that their acquisition will make us kind and decent folks.

No, they will not.

This job, or that spouse, or some honor here or there is entirely beside the point. Regardless of the circumstances, where was the understanding, where was the conviction, where was the self-control, where was the love? I would like to assume I have all of that, since I take it for granted that success is good; but wait, what is the real measure of human success? Have I been selling my dignity and integrity for that supposed success?

If I have never carefully studied quantum physics, then I cannot claim to be a quantum physicist. So if I have never carefully studied virtue, why am I claiming to be virtuous? I don’t want to admit that I don’t know what I should know.

I make the claim, however false, because I know, however vaguely, that this is something I need to live up to. I become worried, because studying quantum physics is hard, and studying virtue is surely harder.

No, it isn’t any harder at all; it should actually come much more easily. It flows from us with ease as soon as we get our priorities in order. Right thinking leads to right doing, and no training in complex equations or mind-twisting concepts is required of anyone here. The physicist may need years of formal education, while the good man only needs his own common sense and a humble heart.

I ask this of myself in a much simpler way: Does my life hang on how good I am at calculus? That skill can be of great service to me in so many ways, but no, it does not. It is a means, not the end.

Does my life hang on whether I can be concerned, respectful, and compassionate? Yes, it does. It is the very fulfillment of being human. It is the end, not a means.

There is one thing I was made for, the one thing that comes naturally to me, and that is the excellence of my own character. I must remember that I can take or leave the rest, since it is something added to my nature, not something grown out of my nature.

“I was born to be a lawyer!”

No, you were born to be honest, whether you happen to be a lawyer or not.

“I was born to be a rock star!”

No, you were born to be humble, whether you happen to be a rock star or not.

“I was born to be a baron of industry!”

No, you were born to be fair, whatever business you happen to work in.

It’s funny how we get it all backwards, and we start with all the accidents, while neglecting the essence. Then we somehow foolishly think we can achieve the essence by spending all of our time on those accidents.

To be a happy man you simply have to be a good man, first and foremost. That comes from within, from all the gifts Nature and Providence put right there in your lap. Everything else comes from the outside.

Written in 4/1999

Epictetus, Golden Sayings 110

When a friend inclined to Cynic views asked Epictetus, what sort of person a true Cynic should be, requesting a general sketch of the system, he answered:

"We will consider that at leisure. At present I content myself with saying this much: If a man puts his hand to so weighty a matter without God, the wrath of God abides upon him. That which he covets will but bring upon him public shame. 

"Not even on finding himself in a well-ordered house does a man step forward and say to himself, I must be master here! Otherwise the lord of that house takes notice of it, and, seeing him insolently giving orders, drags him forth and chastises him. 

"So it is also in this great City, the World. Here also is there a Lord of the House, who orders all thing:

You are the Sun! In your orbit you
have power to make the year and the seasons;  
to bid the fruits of the earth to grow 
and increase, the winds arise and fall; 
you can in due measure cherish with 
your warmth the frames of men; go make 
your circuit, and thus minister unto all 
from the greatest to the least! . . .

You can lead a host against Troy; be Agamemnon!

You can meet Hector in single combat; be Achilles!

"But had Thersites stepped forward and claimed the chief command, he would have been met with a refusal, or obtained it only to his own shame and confusion of face, before a cloud of witnesses." 

Stoic Conversations 21

"Do you remember what my last words were supposed to be? I forget. I know I planned them. It was funny then. Seems stupid now. I'm tired. It's dull."

"I remember what they were."

"Were they any good?"

"Yes. They were the best words."

"What were they?"

"Walk with God."

"That'll do. Thanks. . . . Do me a favor, will you?"

"Sure. Anything."

"Can you have someone else say them for me? . . . I'm tired." 

IMAGE: Edvard Munch, At the Deathbed (1895) 

Stoic Conversations 20

"If someone feels something, if it's what his desires tell him he should do, then that's what he should do. It would be wrong to keep anyone from getting what he wants."

"What if I want to rob you? What if I want to expose myself in public parks? What if I want to become an addict? What if I want to throw myself off a building?"

"Don't be silly, those are completely different cases!"

"Why? I may feel like I want to do them. My passions are speaking to me."

"But you may be harming other people, or harming yourself."

"So there is another condition I need to apply? Not just that I want something, but that I should want something that is good for others and for me?"

"Well, yes."

"Then things don't become good just because you desire them, but you should desire then because they are good?"

"Hold on now, who's to say what's good or bad?"

"Quite right, that's a further question, but it is one that requires reason, not just passion."

"I guess I've never thought of it that way, though I feel like I've heard that argument somewhere before."

"Do you know a fellow named Socrates?"

"No, what department is he in?"

Musonius Rufus, Lectures 2.3

For take the common man; when asked whether he is stupid or intelligent, not one will confess to being stupid; or again, when asked whether he is just or unjust, not one will say that he is unjust.

In the same way, if one asks him whether he is temperate or intemperate, he replies at once that he is temperate; and finally, if one asks whether he is good or bad, he would say that he is good, even though he can name no teacher of virtue or mention any study or practice of virtue he has ever made. 

Our instincts and inclinations can be fascinating things, playing themselves out in ways we are not always aware of.

It took me some time to recognize that a certain sharpness was simply a sign that my wife was hungry, and that it was thoughtless of me to overlook this. It took her some time to recognize that a certain silence was simply a sign that I was frustrated with a problem, and that I was now prone to becoming angry. Learning about such quirks helped us to understand one another better, and so to improve ourselves.

The passions are drawn to pleasure, and they shy away from pain. Just as the plant may turn to the sunlight, or the mouse may hide from the cat, or the dog may drool at the sight and smell of a steak, so I too will feel desire for some things and aversion to others.

At the level of my body, I am not all that different from a plant or an animal, perhaps more refined in degree but quite the same in kind. But if my body is inclined to want food, and warmth, and comfort, toward what is my soul inclined? As with all things, I must only consider its nature.

My reason is made to understand, and from this my will is made to choose. This is why the mind is the ruling principle, that which can judge the meaning and purpose in other things. Through it, I am not only moved to act, but I can decide to act, knowing why it is right for me to do so.

And even when I am not thinking as clearly as I could, or not choosing to reflect on the merit of what I am doing, my very identity as a human being is disposed toward wisdom and virtue. It is precisely what I am here for, and every fiber of me longs for it, as much I might ignore that truth or turn away from that good. Like they say, fish gotta swim, and birds gotta fly . . . and every one of us can’t help but want virtue.

While we may not know right then and there how to do it, or even precisely what it is we are longing for, that still remains the emptiness we wish to fill. The inclination is at work all of the time, whether waking or sleeping, whether we are looking right at it or stubbornly looking away. It isn’t something that comes from outside of us, but something that is from the inside of what we are.

The end is living well, not just living, and the biggest part of being on this earth is figuring out what that means.

One way to grasp this is to observe how we genuinely wish to think of ourselves as being good. People will regularly say that they are not gifted at this or that ability, like having a knack for numbers, or possessing an ability for producing art, or being talented at football, yet they are far less likely to admit that they are morally flawed. This rubs us the wrong way, perhaps because we instinctively know that this is what ultimately defines us, what makes or breaks us.

Though the cardinal virtues are currently not in common parlance, it still troubles us quite deeply to consider that we might lack them. Tell me that I would make a terrible lawyer, or doctor, or accountant, and I will gladly agree with you. Tell me, however, that I am ignorant instead of thoughtful, cowardly instead of brave, gluttonous instead of temperate, or selfish instead of fair, and I will be tempted to take offense.

Why should this bother me? If I am brutally honest with myself, I know that I am often far from the mark when it comes to virtue. Still, I am also aware that it is not just a skill, one among many that I might have; it is the only skill that I need to have. Talents, or trades, or hobbies can come and go, particular to one man or another, while virtue is necessary, universal for all men.

I know that my character is the fullest expression of my humanity, and I know that the value of anything else will depend on that. That inclination always remains within me, though I may never have bothered to become fully conscious of it.

Written in 4/1999