Skimming

Maxims of Goethe 77

We all live on the past, and through the past are destroyed. 

IMAGE: Hubert Robert, Roman Ruins (c. 1760) 

Seneca, Moral Letters 81.5

These men, accordingly, should cease to discredit us, just as if we were uttering an impossible boast; they should understand that the essence of honor resides in the wise man, while among the crowd we find only the ghost and the semblance of honor. 
 
None but the wise man knows how to return a favor. Even a fool can return it in proportion to his knowledge and his power; his fault would be a lack of knowledge rather than a lack of will or desire. To will does not come by teaching. 
 
The wise man will compare all things with one another; for the very same object becomes greater or smaller, according to the time, the place, and the cause. Often the riches that are spent in profusion upon a palace cannot accomplish as much as a thousanddenarii given at the right time. 
 
Now it makes a great deal of difference whether you give outright, or come to a man’s assistance, whether your generosity saves him, or sets him up in life. Often the gift is small, but the consequences great. And what a distinction do you imagine there is between taking something which one lacks—something which was offered—and receiving a benefit in order to confer one in return? 

—from Seneca, Moral Letters 81 
 
Stoicism, like most any philosophy that rests on a moral imperative, tends to get a bad rap, and I have a hunch this is because we feel terribly threatened when anyone challenges our clever lives of mercenary gain. After years of scheming over the most lucrative deals, who likes to hear about virtue as its own reward? Wisdom shames us by stripping away the illusions of fortune and fame. 
 
To understand our nature will lead us to a life of benevolence; to make sense of our world is to order all other conditions in the service of this highest goal. Why should I offer a favor to another? By helping him to become better, I am helping myself to become better. Why should I choose to return a favor? By expressing my gratitude, I am continuing that very same mission. In this way, from both ends, the giving is for the sake of the giving, and so I no longer need to fret over the receiving. 
 
To act with conscience comes, as the very name suggests, from the subtlety and depth of my awareness, not from the brute force of my will. How often do we excuse ourselves by claiming that we meant well, when the real problem lies in our refusal to reflect upon any meaning and value? It is wisdom that gives purpose to the intention, which is why the sage will know how to behave with magnanimity in any possible circumstance. 
 
Who will gain the most from my assistance? Is it best to give more, or to give less? When is the best time, and where is the best place? Each case will call for a different application of the universal to a particular, and there will often be more than one right way, but wisdom binds all the variables together by asking one simple question: how will this increase the virtues, both for myself and for my neighbors? The rest is incidental. 
 
While the politicians and the entrepreneurs will seek out the biggest bang for their buck, the genuine philosophers are making an investment in character, where the biggest things can’t be hoarded in a bank. When you advise me to focus on multiplying one dollar into a hundred dollars, I will speak instead about the richer proceeds from mutual kindness, measured not by numbers but by integrity. 
 
We pay so much attention to the generosity of the donors, when the right appreciation from the recipients is just as important; like the justice which it complements, charity is a two-way street. All of us are at our best when we work together as brothers and sisters, instead of fighting like masters and slaves. 

—Reflection written in 12/2013 

IMAGE: Anthony van Dyck, Charity (1628) 

Dio Chrysostom, On Virtue 3

"This is the contest which I steadfastly maintain,⁠ and in which I risk my life against pleasure and hardship, yet not a single wretched mortal gives heed to me, but only to the jumpers and runners and dancers. 

"Neither, indeed, did men have eyes for the struggles and labors of Heracles or have any interest in them, but perhaps even then they were admiring certain athletes such as Zetes,⁠ Calaïs,⁠ Peleus,⁠ and other like runners and wrestlers; and some they would admire for their beauty and others for their wealth, as, for example, Jason⁠ and Cinyras.⁠ 

"About Pelops, too, the story ran that he had an ivory shoulder, as if there were any use in a man having a golden or ivory hand or eyes of diamond or malachite; but the kind of soul he had men did not notice. 

"As for Heracles, they pitied him while he toiled and struggled and called him the most 'trouble-ridden,' or wretched, of men; indeed, this is why they gave the name 'troubles,' or tasks, to his labors and works, as though a laborious life were a trouble-ridden, or wretched⁠ life; but now that he is dead they honor him beyond all others, deify him, and say he has Hebe⁠ to wife, and all pray to him that they may not themselves be wretched—to him who in his labors suffered wretchedness exceedingly great.  

"They have an idea, too, that Eurystheus⁠ had him in his power and ordered him about, Eurystheus, whom they considered a worthless fellow and to whom no one ever prayed or sacrificed. 

"Heracles, however, roved over all Europe and Asia, though he did not look at all like any of these athletes; for where could he have penetrated, had he carried so much flesh or required so much meat or drink into such depths of sleep? No, he was as alert and lean like a lion, keen of eye and ear, recking naught of cold or heat, having no use for bed,  shawl, or rug, clad in a dirty skin, with an air of hunger about him, as he succored the good and punished the bad. 

"And because Diomede,⁠ the Thracian, wore such fine raiment and sat upon a throne drinking the livelong day in high revel, and treated strangers unrighteously as well as his own subjects, and kept a large stable, Heracles smote him with his club and smashed him as if he had been an old jar. 

"Then Geryones,⁠ who had ever so many cattle and was the richest of all western lords and the most arrogant, he also killed along with his brothers and drove his cattle away. And when he found Busiris⁠ very diligently training, eating the whole day long, and exceeding proud of his wrestling, Heracles burst him open like an over-filled bag by dashing him to the ground. 

"He loosed the girdle of the Amazon,⁠ who tried to coquet with him and thought to win by means of her beauty. For he both consorted with her and made her understand that he could never be overcome by beauty and would never tarry far away from his own possessions for a woman's sake. 

"And Prometheus,⁠ whom I take to have been a sort of sophist, he found being destroyed by popular opinion; for his liver swelled and grew whenever he was praised and shriveled again when he was censured. So he took pity on him, frightened . . . and thus relieved him of his vanity and inordinate ambition; and straightway he disappeared after making him whole. 

"Now in all those exploits he was not doing a favor to Eurystheus at all. And as to the golden apples that he got and brought back—I mean those of the Hesperides—he did give them to him, since he had no use for them himself, but told him to keep them and go hang; for he explained that apples of gold are of no use to a man, nor had the Hesperides,⁠ either, found them to be. 

"Then, finally, when he was growing ever slower and weaker, from fear that he would not be able to live as before, and besides, I suppose, because he was attacked by some disease, he made the best provision that was humanly possible for himself, for he reared a pyre of the very driest wood in the courtyard and showed that he minded the fiery heat precious little. 

"But before that, to avoid creating the opinion that he did only impressive and mighty deeds, he went and removed and cleaned away the dung in the Augean stables,⁠ that immense accumulation of many years. For he considered that he ought to fight stubbornly and war against opinion⁠ as much as against wild beasts and wicked men." 

While Diogenes thus spoke, many stood about and listened to his words with great pleasure. Then, possibly with this thought of Heracles⁠ in his mind, he ceased speaking and, squatting on the ground, performed an indecent act, whereat the crowd straightway scorned him and called him crazy, and again the sophists raised their din, like frogs in a pond when they do not see the water-snake. 

Sayings of Heraclitus 89

Self-control is the highest virtue, and wisdom is to speak truth and consciously to act according to nature. 

IMAGE: Thomas Moran, Ulysses and the Sirens (c. 1900) 

Dio Chrysostom, On Virtue 2

And when a certain man asked whether he too came to see the contest, Diogenes said, "No, but to take part." 

Then when the man laughed and asked him who his competitors were, he said with that customary glance⁠ of his: "The toughest there are and the hardest to beat, men whom no Greek can look straight in the eye; not competitors, however, who sprint, or wrestle or jump, not those that box, throw the spear, and hurl the discus, but those that chasten a man." 

"Who are they, pray?" asked the other. 

"Hardships," he replied, "very severe and insuperable for gluttonous and folly-stricken men who feast the livelong day and snore at night, but which yield to thin, spare men, whose waists are more pinched in than those of wasps. 

"Or do you think those potbellies are good for anything?—creatures whom sensible people ought to lead around, subject to the ceremony of purification, and then thrust beyond the borders,⁠ or, rather, kill, quarter, and use as food just as people do with the flesh of large fish, don't you know, boiling it in brine and melting out the fat, the way our people at home in Pontus⁠ do with the lard of pigs when they want to anoint themselves. For I think these men have less soul than hogs. 

"But the noble man holds his hardships to be his greatest antagonists, and with them he is ever wont to battle day and night, not to win a sprig of parsley⁠ as so many goats might do, nor for a bit of wild olive,⁠ or of pine,⁠ but to win happiness and virtue throughout all the days of his life, and not merely when the Eleans make proclamation,⁠ or the Corinthians,⁠ or the Thessalian assembly.⁠ 

"He is afraid of none of those opponents nor does he pray to draw another antagonist, but challenges them one after another, grappling with hunger and cold, withstanding thirst, and disclosing no weakness even though he must endure the lash or give his body to be cut or burned. Hunger, exile, loss of reputation, and the like have no terrors for him; nay, he holds them as mere trifles, and while in their very grip the perfect man is often as sportive as boys with their dice and their colored balls. 

"Of course," he continued, "these antagonists do seem terrible and invincible to all cravens; but if you treat them with contempt and meet them boldly, you will find them cowardly and unable to master strong men, in this greatly resembling dogs, which pursue and bite people who run away from them, while some they seize and tear to pieces, but fear and slink away from men who face them and show fight, and in the end wag their tails when they come to know them. 

Most people, however, are in mortal terror of these antagonists, always avoiding them by flight and never looking them in the face. And indeed, just as skilful boxers, if they anticipate their opponents, are not hit at all, but often actually end by winning the bout themselves, but if, on the contrary, they give ground through fear, they receive the heaviest blow; in the same way, if we accept our hardships in a spirit of contempt for them and approach them cheerfully, they avail very little against us; but if we hang back and give way, they appear altogether greater and more severe. 

"You can see that the same thing applies to fire also: if you attack it most vigorously, you put it out; but if with caution and fear, you get badly burned, just as children do when in sport they sometimes try to put out a fire with their tongues. The adversaries of this class are a good deal like the pancratiasts,⁠ who strike, choke, rend, and occasionally kill. 

"But there is another battle more terrible and a struggle not slight but much greater than this and fraught with greater danger, I mean the fight against pleasure. Nor is it like that battle which Homer speaks of when he says, 

Fiercely then around the ships

The struggle was renewed.

With halberds and with trenchant battle axe

They fought, with mighty sword and two-edged spear. 

"No, it is no such battle, for pleasure uses no open force but deceives and casts a spell with baneful drugs, just as Homer says Circe⁠ drugged the comrades of Odysseus, and some forthwith became swine, some wolves, and some other kinds of beasts. 

"Yes, such is this thing pleasure, that hatches no single plot but all kinds of plots, and aims to undo men through sight, sound, smell, taste, and touch, with food too, and drink and carnal lust, tempting the waking and the sleeping alike. For it is not possible to set guards and then lie down to sleep as in ordinary warfare, since it is just then of all times that she makes her attack, at one time weakening and enslaving the soul by means of sleep itself, at another, sending mischievous and insidious dreams that suggest her.

"Now work is carried on by means of touch for the most part and proceeds in that way, but pleasure assails a man through each and every sense that he has; and while he must face and grapple with work, to pleasure he must give the widest berth possible and have none but unavoidable dealings with her. 

"And herein the strongest man is indeed strongest, one might almost say, who can keep the farthest away from pleasures; for it is impossible to dwell with pleasure or even to dally with her for any length of time without being completely enslaved. Hence when she gets the mastery and over­powers the soul by her charms, the rest of Circe's sorcery at once follows. With a stroke of her wand pleasure coolly drives her victim into a sort of sty and pens him up, and now from that time forth the man goes on living as a pig or a wolf. 

"Pleasure also brings diverse and deadly vipers into being, and other crawling things that attend constantly upon her as they lie about her doors, and though yearning for pleasure and serving her, they yet suffer a thousand hardships all in vain. For pleasure, after over­powering and taking possession of her victims, delivers them over to hardships, the most hateful and most difficult to endure." 

Simplicius, Commentary on Epictetus 4.2

. . . It is necessary then, in order to enjoy the world, so as to maintain one’s own virtue and innocence, that a man provide himself with a competent degree of knowledge and prudence, and reduce his appetites to moderation and obedience. And when he engages in business and conversation, that he be sure to do it cautiously and seasonable, and to put on this impenetrable armor. 

For this reason, Epictetus is urgent with his young beginners to suspend even those things, that are consistent with virtue, for awhile; until time and practice have confirmed their good habits, and qualified them to use the world with safety and discretion. For, as it is rashness and folly to go into the field unarmed, so it is, to engage with the world, till a man has fortified himself with temper and prudence. 

But he acquaints us farther, that, for those, who as yet are but raw and inexperienced in virtue, to employ themselves in business and worldly care, is not only inconvenient and hazardous, but ridiculous and vain, and to no manner of purpose. They, that place their desires and their aversions upon such things as are out of a man’s power, must needs fail of prudence and moderation, and cannot have inclinations and aversions grounded upon, and governed by, right reason, which are the only things that make men free, and easy, and happy. 

For they must of necessity live in subjection to their wild and brutish passions, which lord it over them, like so many cruel master, or enraged tyrants. They must also live perpetually in a slavish fear of all those men, in whose power it is, either to gratify their hopes, or to obstruct and defeat them; who can intercept the good they wish, or inflict the ills they fear, lest they should exert this power to their prejudice. 

Besides all this, when our care and concern is laid out upon the seeming good things without us, it exposes us to disappointments in our true happiness, by taking off our care from those things that are more properly ours. For they, who divide their desires and endeavors between both, do neither make a just distinction between those things that are, and those that are not, really good; nor do they express a becoming concern, for that which is their own peculiar happiness; nor bestow the pains about it that it deserves: and till they do so, it is impossible they should attain to it. 

For the most part therefore, they fall short of those external advantages they propose to themselves, because they do not apply their minds to these entirely, but now and then are diverted by desires and endeavors after their true and proper happiness; and out of a secret shame and consciousness, that this requires their care, fall into such perplexities and distractions, as restrain and stop their career, and will not suffer them to do nor to endure, everything that is necessary for obtaining the false good they chiefly pursue. 

Now, though such a divided life as this, must be acknowledged to be less vicious, than that which addicts itself wholly to the world, without any check or interruption at all; yet it cannot but be exceeding troublesome and uneasy; much more so indeed, than that of the worldling. For it is one continual labor in vain, ever striving to reconcile contradictions, full of perpetual inconsistencies and remorses, dislike of ones own actions, and eternal self-condemnation. So that it must needs be infinitely painful and detestable. 

But it is worth our taking notice, that Epictetus, upon these occasions, does frequently in the following discourses, admonish and awaken us with a reminder, the reason of which is, that he addresses himself to the rational soul; which, though it be naturally and essentially endued with just ideas of things, and has an inbred faculty of discerning and adhering to truth, yet finds but too often, that this eye of reason is darkened, has a dim and confused representations of things imposed upon it, by the material principle, to which it is united; and by this means is betrayed into ignorance and forgetfulness, the true cause of all its miscarriages and all its miseries. So that, considered in these circumstances, it stands in need of a continual monitor to rouse it into thought and remembrance. 

But when he says, that a man who proposes to himself advantages so valuable, ought not to be content with a moderate prosecution of them; this expression is not to be understood, as we take it, when used to distinguish between moderation and excess, but is intended here of the defect, and signifies a supine neglect, and cold indifference. For where our happiness and our all is at stake, there, as Pindar expresses himself, 

Distress and danger should our courage fire, move generous thought, and brave resolves inspire. 

Dio Chrysostom, On Virtue 1

When Diogenes was exiled from his native Sinope,⁠ he came to Athens, looking like the veriest beggar; and there he found a goodly number still of Socrates' companions: to wit, Plato, Aristippus,⁠ Aeschylus,⁠ Antisthenes,⁠ and Eucleides⁠ of Megara; but Xenophon was in exile on account of his campaign with Cyrus. 

Now it was not long before he despised them all save Antisthenes, whom he cultivated, not so much from approval of the man himself as of the words he spoke, which he felt to be alone true and best adapted to whether mankind. 

For when he contrasted the man Antisthenes with his words, he sometimes made this criticism, that the man himself was much weaker; and so in reproach he would call him a trumpet because he could not hear his own self, no matter how much noise he made. 

Antisthenes tolerated this banter of his since he greatly admired the man's character; and so, in requital for being called a trumpet, he used to say that Diogenes was like the wasps, the buzz of whose wings is slight but the sting very sharp. 

Therefore he took delight in the outspokenness of Diogenes, just as horsemen, when they get a horse that is high-strung and yet courageous and willing to work, do not object to the difficult temper of the animal, but dislike and have no use for the lazy and slow. Sometimes, therefore, he used to key Diogenes up, while at other times he tried to relax his tension, just as those who twist strings for musical instruments stretch the strings, taking care, however, not to break them.

After Antisthenes' death he moved to Corinth, since he considered none of the others worth associating with, and there he lived without renting a house or staying with a friend, but camping out in the Craneion.⁠ For he observed that large numbers gathered at Corinth on account of the harbors and the hetaerae,⁠ and because the city was situated as it were at the crossroads of Greece. Accordingly, just as the good physician should go and offer his services where the sick are most numerous, so, said he, the man of wisdom should take up his abode where fools are thickest in order to convict them of their folly and reprove them. 

So, when the time for the Isthmian games arrived, and everybody was at Isthmus, he went down also. For it was his custom at the great assemblies⁠ to make a study of the pursuits and ambitions of men, of their reasons for being abroad, and of the things on which they prided themselves. 

He gave his time also to any who wished to interview him, remarking that he was surprised by the fact that had he claimed to be a physician for the teeth, everybody would flock to him who needed to have a tooth pulled; yes, and by heavens, had he professed to treat the eyes, all who were suffering from sore eyes would present themselves, and similarly, if he had claimed to know of a medicine for diseases of the spleen or for gout or for running of the nose. 

But when he declared that all who should follow his treatment would be relieved of folly, wickedness, and intemperance, not a man would listen to him or seek to be cured by him, no matter how much richer he might become thereby, as though he were less inconvenienced by these spiritual complaints than by the other kind, or as though it were worse for a man to suffer from an enlarged spleen or a decayed tooth than from a soul that is foolish, ignorant, cowardly, rash, pleasure-loving, illiberal, irascible, unkind, and wicked, in fact utterly corrupt. 

That was the time, too, when one could hear crowds of wretched sophists around Poseidon's temple shouting and reviling one another, and their disciples, as they were called, fighting with one another, many writers reading aloud their stupid works, many poets reciting their poems while others applauded them, many jugglers showing their tricks, many fortune tellers interpreting fortunes, lawyers innumerable perverting judgment, and peddlers not a few peddling whatever they happened to have. 

Naturally a crowd straightway gathered about him too; no Corinthians, however, for they did not think it would be at all worth their while, since they were accustomed to see him every day in Corinth. The crowd that gathered was composed of strangers, and each of these, after speaking or listening for a short time, went his way, fearing his refutation of their views. 

Just for that reason, said Diogenes, he was like the Laconian dogs; there were plenty of men to pat them and play with them when they were shown at the popular gatherings, but no one was willing to buy any because he did not know how to deal with them. 

Simplicius, Commentary on Epictetus 4.1

Since therefore the advantages, you propose to yourself, are so valuable, remember, that you out not to content yourself with a cold and moderate pursuit of them; but that some things must be wholly laid aside, and others you must be content to suspend for awhile. 

But if you will needs be grasping at both, and expect to compass these, and at the same time attain unto honors and riches too; there will be great hazard of your losing the latter, by pursuing the former; or if no so; yet you will be sure to find yourself frustrated in all that can make you free and happy, while you pursue the latter. 

Comment: 

Having directed us, what it is we are to expect happiness from, and how desirable the life of such persons must needs be, who depend not upon external enjoyments, and things out of their power for it, but place it in their own natural liberty, and what falls within the compass of that: that such a life is above all molestation and control, safe from the assaults of any ill accident, not only advantageous, but easy and delightful too, the good it desires never deceiving, the evil it declines never overtaking, but in one word, exquisitely happy, and divinely blest; he now proceeds to excite in his reader, a zeal worthy of such mighty expectations; and tells him, that he must not look upon this as a business by the by, while his main design and care is for something else; but that his pains and his affection must be so entirely devoted to this one thing, as not to admit of anything besides, into a partnership with it. 

The external enjoyments of the world then must fit so loose about his heart, that, as many of them as are inconsistent with a virtuous conversation, and the rules of right reason, such as excess and sensual pleasure, and sordid wealth, and power, and ambition, must be absolutely discarded. It being impossible, that any man, who makes these his concern, should, at the same time preserve his own freedom, and innocence, and wisdom. 

But as for such others of them, as may be no obstructions to the soul’s good, provided they be managed with discretion; such as a decent dwelling, a competent equipage, the satisfactions of marriage, the care of continuing a good family, the exercise of just authority, and some degree of solicitude and pains for the providing all necessary supports: these, and all the rest of the like nature, he advises his scholars to supersede, for some convenient time at least. And that for very good reason; it being necessary, that they who would be truly and eminently good, should make the exercise of virtue their whole business and constant study, and suffer no other thing whatsoever to divert them from it. 

Whoever proposes to himself, not merely to be popular, and impose upon the world with a dissembled virtue, but to answer the character of a sincere and truly good man, must take care of two things. First, he must attain to such a degree of wisdom, as may enable him to distinguish, between what will really make for his advantage, and what will turn to his prejudice; and then secondly, he must keep under his brutish appetites, that they may never revolt, nor rebel against reason; but may be so ready and observant to it, as to move, only at such times, and in such proportions, and toward such objects, as the reasonable soul shall limit and prescribe to them. 

For men are betrayed into vice two ways. Either for want of the understanding being sufficiently enlightened, when we do not discern what is good and proper to be done; or else, through the ungovernableness of the affections and sensual appetites; when, though the mind hath a notion, though but a weak and imperfect one, of what ought to be done, yet the passions mutiny and make head, usurp a power that belongs not to them, and overrule the calm judgment of sober reason. Thus the Tragedian introduces Medea, complaining of the impotence of her mind, when about to murder her children: 

Remorse and sense of guilt draw back my soul,
But stronger passion does her powers control;
With rage transported, I push boldly on,
And see the precipice I cannot shun. . . . 

Epictetus, Golden Sayings 186

It is hard to combine and unite these two qualities, the carefulness of one who is affected by circumstances, and the intrepidity of one who heeds them not. 

But it is not impossible: else were happiness also impossible. We should act as we do in seafaring. 

“What can I do?" Choose the master, the crew, the day, the opportunity. 

Then comes a sudden storm. What matters it to me? my part has been fully done. The matter is in the hands of another—the Master of the ship. 

The ship is foundering. What then have I to do? I do the only thing that remains to me—to be drowned without fear, without a cry, without upbraiding God, but knowing that what has been born must likewise perish. 

For I am not Eternity, but a human being—a part of the whole, as an hour is part of the day. I must come like the hour, and like the hour must pass! 

IMAGE: N.C. Wyeth, The Roaring Skipper (1914) 

Seneca, Moral Letters 81.4

The wise man will inquire in his own mind into all the circumstances: how much he has received, from whom, when, where, how. And so we declare that none but the wise man knows how to make return for a favor; moreover, none but the wise man knows how to confer a benefit—that man, I mean, who enjoys the giving more than the recipient enjoys the receiving.
 
Now some person will reckon this remark as one of the generally surprising statements such as we Stoics are wont to make and such as the Greeks call “paradoxes,” and will say: “Do you maintain, then, that only the wise man knows how to return a favor? Do you maintain that no one else knows how to make restoration to a creditor for a debt? Or, on buying a commodity, to pay full value to the seller?” 
 
In order not to bring any odium upon myself, let me tell you that Epicurus says the same thing. At any rate, Metrodorus remarks that only the wise man knows how to return a favor.
 
Again, the objector mentioned above wonders at our saying: “The wise man alone knows how to love, the wise man alone is a real friend.” And yet it is a part of love and of friendship to return favors; nay, further, it is an ordinary act, and happens more frequently than real friendship. 
 
Again, this same objector wonders at our saying, “There is no loyalty except in the wise man,” just as if he himself does not say the same thing! Or do you think that there is any loyalty in him who does not know how to return a favor? 

—from Seneca, Moral Letters 81 
 

We are sometimes so fixated on the intensity of our passions, that we forget how a good heart must proceed from a sound mind, and why only understanding can make it possible for us to really love. It is wisdom that reveals the path of true benefit, so it is the wise who will be our true friends, knowing the fine art of both giving and receiving. 
 
Time and time again, my attention is drawn back to a single notion in this letter, so simple yet so essential, about the greatest value of the gift being in the act of the offering itself. Whether he craves after pleasure, money, or fame, the grasping man is looking exclusively to the prospect of some external gain, oblivious to the fact that we actually profit the most when we spend of ourselves the most. 
 
Simply put, a living creature is defined by what it does, not by what may be done to it, and a rational creature is defined by the excellence of its own judgments, not by how others may go about judging it. The rewards of the virtues are nothing more or less than the exercise of prudence, fortitude, temperance, and justice, much like an athlete of character is focused on competing to the best of his ability, regardless of any other returns. 
 
As the very fulfillment of our nature, virtue can have no further purpose or goal beyond itself. The covetous are tripped up by confusing the means with the ends, the lesser for the greater, the relative and the absolute. As Plato said, their guts rule their heads, instead of their heads ruling their guts. 
 
The critics often accused the Stoics of believing in "paradoxes", though they only seem like contradictions to those who remain ignorant about first principles. They wondered how it is possible for pain to not be an evil, or for riches to not be a good, or for wisdom to be the sole currency, and this is because they were stubbornly attached to the things that ought to be treated with indifference, even if we happen to prefer them. Once the true source of the good is perceived, the supposed paradox immediately disappears. 
 
No, Stoicism is not an easy path, but it will take a philosophy very much like it to find the peace of genuine liberation. Working out the early bits is the key to embracing the later bits. 
 
I need not be shocked or offended when I am told that wisdom is the condition for loyalty, for friendship, and for love. I will find many cheap imitations, which go through the motions without committing to the task; this should not hinder me from remembering why a benefit can only be given or received in the proper context of the human good, with no strings attached. 
 
When I remain unsettled, I think about what made the Samaritan worthy of a parable. End of story. 

—Reflection written in 12/2013 

IMAGE: Gustave Moreau, The Good Samaritan (c. 1865) 

Jacob's Ladder 6

Salvator Rosa, Landscape with Jacob's Dream (c. 1665) 

Jacob Wrestling with the Angel 17

Claude Lorrain, Landscape with Jacob and the Angel (1672) 

Netherlandish Proverbs 10

"One shears sheep, the other shears pigs." 

One has all the advantages, the other none. 

Seneca, Moral Letters 81.3

The more indulgent magistrate, however (and I should rather be such a one), will order us to forget the injury and remember the accommodation.
 
“But surely,” you say, “it is the part of justice to render to each that which is his due—thanks in return for a benefit, and retribution, or at any rate ill will, in return for an injury!” 
 
This, I say, will be true when it is one man who has inflicted the injury, and a different man who has conferred the benefit; for if it is the same man, the force of the injury is nullified by the benefit conferred. Indeed, a man who ought to be pardoned, even though there were no good deeds credited to him in the past, should receive something more than mere leniency if he commits a wrong when he has a benefit to his credit.
 
I do not set an equal value on benefits and injuries. I reckon a benefit at a higher rate than an injury. Not all grateful persons know what it involves to be in debt for a benefit; even a thoughtless, crude fellow, one of the common herd, may know, especially soon after he has received the gift; but he does not know how deeply he stands in debt therefore. 
 
Only the wise man knows exactly what value should be put upon everything; for the fool whom I just mentioned, no matter how good his intentions may be, either pays less than he owes, or pays it at the wrong time or the wrong place. That for which he should make return he wastes and loses. There is a marvelously accurate phraseology applied to certain subjects, a long-established terminology which indicates certain acts by means of symbols that are most efficient and that serve to outline men’s duties. 
 
We are, as you know, wont to speak thus: “A. has made a return for the favor bestowed by B.” Making a return means handing over of your own accord that which you owe. We do not say, “He has paid back the favor”; for “pay back” is used of a man upon whom a demand for payment is made, of those who pay against their will, of those who pay under any circumstances whatsoever, and of those who pay through a third party. 
 
We do not say, “He has ‘restored’ the benefit,” or ‘settled’ it; we have never been satisfied with a word which applies properly to a debt of money. Making a return means offering something to him from whom you have received something. The phrase implies a voluntary return; he who has made such a return has served the writ upon himself. 

—from Seneca, Moral Letters 81 
 
All this constant talk about compensation and retribution, calculated to the decimal point, and complete with compounded interest, is approaching the problem from the wrong side. I have been so worried about defending my rights, that I have forgotten to act on my responsibilities. 
 
I should attend to how I can best give of myself, and I should then allow another man to decide how he will, in turn, give of himself. I, for one, will choose to offer a benefit whenever I am able, and as much as I would prefer to receive a helping hand in return, I will not shake my puny fist in protest when someone doesn’t live up to my expectations. Have pity on the man who can’t stop complaining, for he has forgotten his true nature.
 
I would make a terrible lawyer or judge, because, like Seneca, I first wish to look to the good a man has done, and, in this light, I would probably be too quick to forgive him of his sins. A benefit granted stands on its own merits, as a pure expression of love for its own sake, and while a failing in a different matter must surely be addressed, it does not subtract from the excellence of his charity. I am interested in calling people to the virtues, not in beating them down for their vices. 
 
As soon as we are merely comparing debits and credits on a ledger, we have lost the critical insight that character is not measured by numbers, but by the depth of our good will. Should we be paying a fair price? Of course, though we become virtuous when we set that price with charity. Should we correct a man when he has done us harm? Of course, though we become righteous when we discipline with mercy. 
 
All the best things received in life, the ones that really count, are favors bestowed, the deeds that simply make us kind and decent human beings. We cannot force people to repay a benefit, only inspire them to voluntarily make a return in kind, and that is the foundation of a just and harmonious community. 
 
If you ask me how to fix our many political and economic problems, I will tell you that I am beginning with myself, by offering a helping hand, and I would be tickled pink if you would choose to do the same. You might say that I am dodging the question, and I will assure you that this is the only way. 
 
Perhaps most people don’t appreciate the benefits they receive, but I don’t have to be like most people. Since it is the wise man who understands the source of the human good, it follows that it is the wise man who both knows how to properly provide a benefit, and how to fittingly receive it. Now I can grumble about how someone isn’t being grateful, or I can help him to learn about his duties, which is itself an act of service. 
 
The world gets better, and our lives become easier, when we freely assist one another. It ceases to be virtue when it is based on coercion, which leaves us with people who are afraid, not with people who are good. Sadly, if you scratch a loud man’s sense of justice, you will too often reveal little more than bitterness and revenge. 
 
One my favorite stories is about Lycurgus, the Spartan lawgiver, who was blinded in one eye by a reckless boy. In accord with custom, the lad was handed over to Lycurgus, to punish as he saw fit. What did he choose to do? He took the criminal under his wing, and he taught him the ways of honor. Later, he presented the reformed fellow to the assembly: "I received this young man at your hands full of violence and wanton insolence; I restore him to you in his right mind and fit to serve his country." 
 
That, my friends, is what is meant by granting a benefit, the gift that keeps on giving. It is the very foundation of a healthy society, and it is not subject to any legalistic terms and conditions. 

—Reflection written in 12/2013 

IMAGE: Nicolas de Largilliere, Portrait of a French Judge (c. 1700) 

Abandoned Places 64

IMAGE by Matt Emmett 

Nature 66

IMAGE by Chrystal Brooke 

Seneca, Moral Letters 81.2

What I think should rather be investigated is this—a question which I feel has not been made sufficiently clear: "Whether he who has helped us has squared the account and has freed us from our debt, if he has done us harm later." You may add this question also, if you like: “when the harm done later has been more than the help rendered previously.”

 

If you are seeking for the formal and just decision of a strict judge, you will find that he checks off one act by the other, and declares: “Though the injuries outweigh the benefits, yet we should credit to the benefits anything that stands over even after the injury.”

 

The harm done was indeed greater, but the helpful act was done first. Hence the time also should be taken into account. Other cases are so clear that I need not remind you that you should also look into such points as: how gladly was the help offered, and how reluctantly was the harm done—since benefits, as well as injuries, depend on the spirit. 

 

“I did not wish to confer the benefit; but I was won over by my respect for the man, or by the importunity of his request, or by hope.” Our feeling about every obligation depends in each case upon the spirit in which the benefit is conferred; we weigh not the bulk of the gift, but the quality of the good will which prompted it. 

 

So now let us do away with guesswork; the former deed was a benefit, and the latter, which transcended the earlier benefit, is an injury. The good man so arranges the two sides of his ledger that he voluntarily cheats himself by adding to the benefit and subtracting from the injury. 

—from Seneca, Moral Letters 81 

 

Like so many philosophers, the Stoics were fond of examining hypothetical cases, so as to better grasp the greater patterns of reality. The problem, of course, is that we can too easily get caught up in the subtlety, while losing sight of the simplicity. I have been discovering how the rules of life do not need to be complicated, as long as I can keep my eyes fixed on the guiding principles. 

 

We have endless volumes of civil and criminal law, because we are forever confronted by new circumstances; the lawyer clings to the letter, while the philosopher seeks out the spirit. It is prudence that permits us to apply the universal to the particular, without getting lost in the conditions and the technicalities. 

 

The problem raised by Seneca concerns a balance sheet of benefit and harm, and it can easily become a trick question, because I will assume that life is measured by quantity instead of by quality. If, for example, a fellow had once done me a great favor, but he has now brought me into an even greater misfortune, what does he owe me in order to make things right?

 

Like yuppies trying to split the lunch bill, I am tempted to reach for a calculator in the clinical quest for accuracy. I am told judges have intricate formulas provided for them, so they might inflict their justice with a brutal efficiency. Nerds will bicker endlessly over variations of the “Trolley Problem”. A clever lad from elementary school reminded me for three years about why the gift I gave him for his ninth birthday was not proportionate in value to the amount of pizza I ate at the party paid for by his mother. 

 

Once I begin to judge my life by forcing one hand to wash the other, by the standards of the quid pro quo, by tit for tat, I am already hopelessly lost. Now I have no doubt that justice demands a balance, but what should be the origin of this harmony, the source of right and wrong? Do you think a man is better by what is given, or by what is taken? 

There’s the rub. 

 

Folks talk about justice, but what they really want is convenience. 

—Reflection written in 12/2013 

Henry David Thoreau 11

We are as much as we see. Faith is sight and knowledge. The hands only serve the eyes. 

—from Henry David Thoreau, Journals (9 April, 1841) 

IMAGE: Caspar David Friedrich, Wanderer above the Sea of Fog (c. 1818) 

Ralph Waldo Emerson 16

To different minds, the same world is a hell, and a heaven. 

—from Ralph Waldo Emerson, Journals (20 December, 1822) 

IMAGE: Vank Cathedral, Heaven, Earth, Hell (c. 1660)