readoldthings

The main focus of this blog is going to be Seneca's On Providence until I make my way through the whole thing. Every sentence is gold.

Flee luxury, flee enfeebling good fortune, from which men's minds grow sodden, and if nothing intervenes to remind them of the common lot, they sink, as it were, into the stupor of unending drunkenness. The man who has always had glazed windows to shield him from a drought, whose feet have been kept warm by hot applications renewed from time to time, whose dining- halls have been tempered by hot air passing beneath the floor and circulating round the walls, - this man will run great risk if he is brushed by a gentle breeze. While all excesses are hurtful, the most dangerous is unlimited good fortune.

I really think that this is the condition in which we find ourselves these days. Today on my Facebook account, a picture came up that I took on this day 3 years ago. I was living in California, and the largest wildfire in the state's history had just broken out. Over the next few months it would burn 280,000 acres. Then when the winter rains finally put it out, they caused a series of enormous mudslides which killed another 20 people in the hills near Santa Barbara.

The debate then and now is-- Did this happen because of global warming or because we don't cut down enough trees?

The answer, of course, depends upon whether you voted for Donald Trump or Joe Biden.

Well, again, that was 3 years ago. Not that long, really. And now we're in the middle of a pandemic which has-- supposedly-- caused an excess of 200-300,000 American deaths. Whose fault is it, and what can be done about it? Again, the answer depends upon whether you voted for Donald Trump or Joe Biden.

Maybe we're all wrong, though. Maybe the Thomas Fire happened because these things happen. And the Coronavirus is happening because these things happen.

Maybe the reason we're so shocked by it all, and so desperate to find some cause, someone we can pin it on, and something that can make it stop is because we've just been through about 80 years of unprecedented good fortune-- an era of peace and prosperity unprecedented in human history.

Maybe we've all been enfeebled by all of this good fortune, and sunk, as it were, into a stupor of drunkenness-- from which the gods are now, slowly, painfully, awakening us.

More from Seneca.

Justly may those be termed unhappy who are dulled by an excess of good fortune, who rest, as it were, in dead calm upon a quiet sea; whatever happens will come to them as a change. Cruel fortune bears hardest upon the inexperienced; to the tender neck the yoke is heavy. The raw recruit turns pale at the thought of a wound, but the veteran looks undaunted upon his own gore, knowing that blood has often been the price of his victory. In like manner God hardens, reviews, and disciplines those whom he approves, whom he loves. Those, however, whom he seems to favour, whom he seems to spare, he is really keeping soft against ills to come. For you are wrong if you suppose that any one is exempt from ill. Even the man who has prospered long will have his share some day; whoever seems to have been released has only been reprieved.

I fear that I may be tempting Fate by posting these. If so... sobeit. Regarding this passage, here is the key: No one is exempt from hardship. The only question is how we bear it. And the only way to learn to bear suffering, is to suffer.

Especially for today, a reminder:

O my soul, in my life I will praise the Lord: I will sing to my God as long as I shall be. Put not your trust in princes: In the children of men, in whom there is no salvation. His spirit shall go forth, and he shall return into his earth: in that day all their thoughts shall perish. Blessed is he who hath the God of Jacob for his helper, whose hope is in the Lord his God: Who made heaven and earth, the sea, and all things that are in them.

You can approach it from the standpoint of Stoicism, Platonism or Abrahamic Monotheism. Either way, the result is the same: Don't put your faith in the things of this world, which arise and pass away, or you will always be disappointed.

Put not your trust in princes. Or in presidents, elections, or electoral colleges.

More Seneca, because we all need this right now.

God, I say, is showing favour to those whom he wills shall achieve the highest possible virtue whenever he gives them the means of doing a courageous and brave deed, and to this end they must encounter some difficulty in life. You learn to know a pilot in a storm, a soldier in the battle-line. How can I know with what spirit you will face poverty, if you wallow in wealth? How can I know with what firmness you will face disgrace, ill fame, and public hatred, if you attain to old age amidst rounds of applause, - if a popularity attends you that is irresistible, and flows to you from a certain leaning of men's minds? How do I know with what equanimity you would bear the loss of children, if you see around you all that you have fathered? I have heard you offering consolation to others. If you had been offering it to yourself, if you had been telling yourself not to grieve, then I might have seen your true character. Do not, I beg of you, shrink in fear from those things which the immortal gods apply like spurs, as it were, to, our souls. Disaster is Virtue's opportunity.

Let's continue with Seneca's On Providence:

Among the many fine sayings of one friend Demetrius there is this one, which I have just heard; it still rings in my ears. "No man," said he, " seems to me more unhappy than one who has never met with adversity." For such a man has never had an opportunity to test himself. Though all things have flowed to him according to his prayer, though even before his prayer, nevertheless the gods have passed an adverse judgement upon him. He was deemed unworthy ever to gain the victory over Fortune, who draws back from all cowards, as if she said, "Why should I choose that fellow as my adversary? He will straightway drop his weapons; against him I have no need of all my power - he will be routed by a paltry threat; he cannot bear even the sight of my face. Let me look around for another with whom to join in combat. I am ashamed to meet a man who is ready to be beaten."

I don't want to belabor this point, but I'll say only this: I've faced many hard things in this lifetime, including violence and death. I know others who have faced similar things-- often they're combat veterans, recovering alcoholics or drug addicts, or both. I find that such people have an appreciation for the goods of life that people who have never suffered simply cannot have, and that they also have an ability to remain unperturbed in the face of adversity.

I don't love suffering and I don't wish for any more in this lifetime. I give thanks to God for the moments of peace I have been afforded, for my teachers, my family, and all the blessings which Providence has granted me. But suffering comes, nevertheless, and my prayer is that I will always be ready to face it as a brave man, ready to face down whatever Fortune has to bring to me.

Today, a passage from Seneca's work On Providence--

No evil can befall a good man; opposites do not mingle. Just as the countless rivers, the vast fall of rain from the sky, and the huge volume of mineral springs do not change the taste of the sea, do not even modify it, so the assaults of adversity do not weaken the spirit of a brave man. It always maintains its poise, and it gives its own colour to everything that happens; for it is mightier than all external things. And yet I do not mean to say that the brave man is insensible to these, but that he overcomes them, and being in all else unmoved and calm rises to meet whatever assails him. All his adversities he counts mere training. Who, moreover, if he is a man and intent upon the right, is not eager for reasonable toil and ready for duties accompanied by danger? To what energetic man is not idleness a punishment?

Wrestlers, who make strength of body their chief concern, we see pitting themselves against none but the strongest, and they require of those who are preparing them for the arena that they use against them all their strength; they submit to blows and hurts, and if they do not find their match in single opponents, they engage with several at a time. Without an adversary, prowess shrivels.

These are words to remember in hard times. If we follow Plato, we had at least some role in choosing to be born in this place, at this time-- or else it was chosen for us by guardians who are wiser than we.

I was born in the early '80s. That makes me either a very young member of Generation X or a very old Millennial, depending upon which timeline you follow. I like the term X-ennial, referring to those of us who straddle the generational cusp. We were born into the world prior to the rise of the Devices, but we came of age with them. We were also born into a world in which the country was at peace and its power unquestioned-- but we came of age with the global wars and the rise of the surveillance state. Now we're entering a new era in which all of the trends of the preceding two decades are converging upon a kind of bizarre medicalized totalitarianism, with a creepy racial undercurrent. To put it bluntly, it sucks.

Earlier in the same passage, Seneca says that "God does not make a spoiled pet of a good man; he tests him, hardens him, and fits him for his own service." If the times are hard-- and they are-- let us be willing to say so, but let us also give thanks for the opportunity to become stronger, and wiser, than we were.

My apologies for the sparse posting over the last few days. I'm sure I can give you a fine excuse about how busy I am, but since these posts only take a few minutes, let's skip that and attribute it to a momentary failure of will.

And now let's move on.

Eliphas Levi, the famous 19th century occultist, wrote that

There is only one doctrine in magic, and it is this: the visible is the manifestation of the invisible.

Levi was, indeed, writing for people who wish to practice magic, but this idea is immensely useful whether you have any interest in magic or not. Visible things are manifestations of invisible things. We know this from our every day experience, don't we? Every person you know is known to you through your senses-- you see their face and their clothes, their expressions and their actions, hear their words, shake their hands. But you believe that those actions, words, expressions, clothing, and so on are visible expressions of something invisible-- the person themselves, as they exist in and to themselves.

(Either you believe that, or else you're a psychopath. Or a materialist, which is another way of saying the same thing.)

Following this idea, we can see that every visible thing is a manifestation of something invisible. And this, furthermore, suggests a doctrine which is, indeed, magical: We can cause change in the visible world by reaching higher, into the invisible.

Look around you. Consider your physical space. Consider your life. Are there things you wish to change? You can.

All of them?

No, not all-- and this is where we need to keep in mind the doctrines of the Stoics which we've been exploring lately. But many of them-- and probably more than you think.

How?

Let us turn again to Levi:

The intelligence and will of man are instruments of incalculable power and capacity. But intelligence and will possess as their help-mate and instrument a faculty which is too imperfectly known, the omnipotence of which belongs exclusively to the domain of Magic. I speak of the imagination, which the Kabalists term the DIAPHANE or TRANSLUCID. Imagination, in effect, is like the soul's eye; therein forms are outlined and preserved; thereby we behold the reflections of the invisible world; it is the glass of visions and the apparatus of magical life. By its intervention we heal diseases, modify the seasons, warn off death from the living and raise the dead to life, because it is the imagination which exalts will and gives it power over the Universal Agent.

The thing to keep in mind always is this:

Some things are in our control and others not. Things in our control are opinion, pursuit, desire, aversion, and, in a word, whatever are our own actions. Things not in our control are body, property, reputation, command, and, in one word, whatever are not our own actions.

That which is under our control can never be taken from us without our consent. That which is not under our control never comes under our control, even if it appears to for a time.

Joannes Stobaeus reminds us that

The ancient theologists and priests testify that the soul is conjoined to the body through a certain punishment, and, that it is buried in this body as in a sepulchre.

When we lose a friend or a family member to death, we mourn, as we should. But our sorrow is really for ourselves, who are temporarily deprived of their company, rather than for them, who are released from the tomb of the body.

In the year 2020 Gandalf's conversation with Frodo feels more relevant than ever.

"I wish it need not have happened in my time," said Frodo.

"So do I," said Gandalf, "and so do all who live to see such times. But that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us."

Another one from Marcus Aurelius:

Men seek retreats for themselves, houses in the country, sea-shores, and mountains; and thou too art wont to desire such things very much. But this is altogether a mark of the most common sort of men, for it is in thy power whenever thou shalt choose to retire into thyself. For nowhere either with more quiet or more freedom from trouble does a man retire than into his own soul, particularly when he has within him such thoughts that by looking into them he is immediately in perfect tranquility; and I affirm that tranquility is nothing else than the good ordering of the mind. Constantly then give to thyself this retreat, and renew thyself; and let thy principles be brief and fundamental, which, as soon as thou shalt recur to them, will be sufficient to cleanse the soul completely, and to send thee back free from all discontent with the things to which thou returnest.

I find this one harder, in its own way, than the material on facing death.

From Hesiod, presented without commentary:

That man is altogether best who considers all things himself and marks what will be better afterwards and at the end; and he, again, is good who listens to a good adviser; but whoever neither thinks for himself nor keeps in mind what another tells him, he is an unprofitable man. But do you at any rate, always remembering my charge, work, high-born Perses, that Hunger may hate you, and venerable Demeter richly crowned may love you and fill your barn with food; for Hunger is altogether a meet comrade for the sluggard. Both gods and men are angry with a man who lives idle, for in nature he is like the stingless drones who waste the labour of the bees, eating without working; but let it be your care to order your work properly, that in the right season your barns may be full of victual. Through work men grow rich in flocks and substance, and working they are much better loved by the immortals. Work is no disgrace: it is idleness which is a disgrace. But if you work, the idle will soon envy you as you grow rich, for fame and renown attend on wealth. And whatever be your lot, work is best for you, if you turn your misguided mind away from other men's property to your work and attend to your livelihood as I bid you. An evil shame is the needy man's companion, shame which both greatly harms and prospers men: shame is with poverty, but confidence with wealth.

A reminder on the nature of good and bad conduct, from Hesiod:

Badness can be got easily and in shoals: the road to her is smooth, and she lives very near us. But between us and Goodness the gods have placed the sweat of our brows: long and steep is the path that leads to her, and it is rough at the first; but when a man has reached the top, then is she easy to reach, though before that she was hard.

I hope that the concluding words are true, but I will have to wait until I arrive at Goodness to let you know.

Another from Demophilus.

As many passions of the soul, so many fierce and savage despots.

I've switched gears a bit in the last few days, from acceptance of death to the matter of self-control. Both topics are highly unpopular in modern culture.

The issue of "passions" in particular is rarely one you hear discussed these days. You might hear someone referred to, approvingly, as "passionate," or a teenage job applicant might claim to an interviewer that they "have a passion for great customer service." Neither usage comes very close to what is meant by "the passions" in older writings. The contemporary word "instincts" gets a little closer to it. The passions are the lowest urges of the soul-- the drive for food or sex, to run away in terror or fly into a rage and fight.

The best way that I've heard the passions explained is that, in contrast to emotions, passions have no object. When we are overcome by hunger, we don't much care what we eat; when we're overcome by lust, we don't really care who we satisfy that passion with, either. From this, it's obvious how the passions can cause us problems. I have a number of food allergies-- these days, who doesn't?-- and if I eat certain things, unpleasant consequences reliably result. But if I don't watch my diet and make sure my blood sugar is stable, I'm likely to be overwhelmed by hunger, with the result that I might eat whatever's on hand.

One of the themes in spiritual literature, pagan and Christian, from about 2500 years ago to... oh, about the day before yesterday... is the importance of controlling the passions, rather than being controlled by them. This, say the ancients-- and the medievals, and the early moderns-- is the key to true freedom. Much of the modern economy is based on arousing the need for sex, or for social acceptance, or for safety, or some other passion, through the imagery of advertising, and then getting you to think you can satisfy the instinct in question by purchasing this or that product. We would do well to learn from our ancestors, who knew that if you can control yourself, no one else can control you.

Another note from Demophilus:

No one is free who has not obtained the empire of himself.

In the modern world we tend to equate freedom with consumer choice or a lack of legal restraint. Demophilus here reminds us that we can be legally, politically, and financially free, and yet still be slaves to our own base instincts. We are not free unless we can rule ourselves.

Today, another bit of advice from Demophilus:

You cannot easily denominate that man happy who depends either on his friends or children, or on any fleeting and fallen nature; for all these are unstable and uncertain; but to depend on one’s self and on divinity is alone stable and firm.

Not an easy saying, but an important one. Everything in the created order is fleeting. Cultivate your inner self and depend on God alone.

Today, a brief reminder from Demophilus:

Make trial of a man rather from his deeds than his discourses; for many live badly and speak well.

This applies to me, too, of course.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Here is Abraham Lincoln's proclamation of thanksgiving from 1864-- a harder year than 2020, we may suppose.

The year that is drawing towards its close, has been filled with the blessings of fruitful fields and healthful skies. To these bounties, which are so constantly enjoyed that we are prone to forget the source from which they come, others have been added, which are of so extraordinary a nature, that they cannot fail to penetrate and soften even the heart which is habitually insensible to the ever watchful providence of Almighty God. In the midst of a civil war of unequalled magnitude and severity, which has sometimes seemed to foreign States to invite and to provoke their aggression, peace has been preserved with all nations, order has been maintained, the laws have been respected and obeyed, and harmony has prevailed everywhere except in the theatre of military conflict; while that theatre has been greatly contracted by the advancing armies and navies of the Union. Needful diversions of wealth and of strength from the fields of peaceful industry to the national defense, have not arrested the plough, the shuttle or the ship; the axe has enlarged the borders of our settlements, and the mines, as well of iron and coal as of the precious metals, have yielded even more abundantly than heretofore. Population has steadily increased, notwithstanding the waste that has been made in the camp, the siege and the battle-field; and the country, rejoicing in the consciousness of augmented strength and vigor, is permitted to expect continuance of years with large increase of freedom.

No human counsel hath devised nor hath any mortal hand worked out these great things. They are the gracious gifts of the Most High God, who, while dealing with us in anger for our sins, hath nevertheless remembered mercy. It has seemed to me fit and proper that they should be solemnly, reverently and gratefully acknowledged as with one heart and one voice by the whole American People. I do therefore invite my fellow citizens in every part of the United States, and also those who are at sea and those who are sojourning in foreign lands, to set apart and observe the last Thursday of November next, as a day of Thanksgiving and Praise to our beneficent Father who dwelleth in the Heavens. And I recommend to them that while offering up the ascriptions justly due to Him for such singular deliverances and blessings, they do also, with humble penitence for our national perverseness and disobedience, commend to His tender care all those who have become widows, orphans, mourners or sufferers in the lamentable civil strife in which we are unavoidably engaged, and fervently implore the interposition of the Almighty Hand to heal the wounds of the nation and to restore it as soon as may be consistent with the Divine purposes to the full enjoyment of peace, harmony, tranquility and Union.

Amen.

Today, some selections from an ancient Saxon poem entitled The Wanderer. This poem comes down to us from the Dark Ages. In such times, societies consist of war-chiefs who gather a following of fighting men about them from whom they receive absolute loyalty in exchange for rewards, often given in great feasts. What happens, though, when one's lord is killed, and one's fellow warriors slain, and one finds oneself wandering alone and friendless in the world?

The Wanderer laments:

Often when sorrow and sleep together

Bind the worn lonely warrior

It seems in his heart that he holds and kisses

The lord of the troop and lays on his knee

His head and hands as he had before

In times gone by at the gift-giver’s throne.

When the friendless warrior awakens again

He sees before him the black waves,

Sea birds bathing, feathers spreading,

Frost and snow falling with hail.

The wounds of his heart are heavier,

Sore after his friends. Sorrow is renewed

When the mind ponders the memory of kinsmen;

He greets them with joy; he anxiously grasps

For something to say. They swim away again.

The breasts of ghosts do not bring the living

Much wisdom. Woe is renewed

For him who must send his weary heart

Way out over the prison of waves.

You may find these lines familiar:

Where is the horse gone? Where the rider?
Where is the giver of treasure?
Where the seats at the feasting?
Where are the joys of the hall?
Alas for the bright chalice!
Alas for the mailed warrior!
Alas for the splendor of the chief!
How the time has passed,
has darkened under veil of night,
as if it had never been.

Where have they all gone?

A host of spears hungry for carnage

Destroyed the men, that marvelous fate!

Storms beat these stone cliffs,

A blanket of frost binds the earth,

Winter is moaning! When the mists darken

And night descends, the north delivers

A fury of hail in hatred at men.

All is wretched in the realm of the earth;

The way of fate changes the world under heaven.

This isn't a dark age-- not yet, not quite yet. But it seems for many of us a darker age than the one into which we were born. For decades those days have been slipping away. Now a time in which one could travel about the country by airplane without being subjected to a ritual disrobing before armed security guards fades, as though it had never been. Soon a time when one could gather with one's family on a holiday or appear in public without a mask may fade in the same way.

What hope is there for us who must endure, here in this world of constant change? The Wanderer tells us:

Good is he who keeps his faith,
and a warrior must never speak
the grief of his heart too quickly,
unless he already knows the remedy --
a hero must act with courage.
It is better for the one that seeks mercy,
consolation from the Father in Heaven,
where, for us, all permanence rests.

Nothing in this world is permanent. All is change, all is passing away. Only to eternal things can we look for consolation. The powers of Heaven have seen darker times than these and will see darker times still, and remain unchanging. Only there does permanence exist, and only there can we find solace.

You can never go wrong by looking to Epictetus, though the following saying is a very difficult one.

Never say of anything, “I have lost it,” but, “I have restored it.” Has your child died? It is restored. Has your wife died? She is restored. Has your estate been taken away? That likewise is restored. “But it was a bad man who took it.” What is it to you by whose hands he who gave it has demanded it again? While he permits you to possess it, hold it as something not your own, as do travelers at an inn.

None of the external things of life are ours. Not our homes or our possessions, not our spouses or our children, not even our bodies, and not even our minds. All of them are on loan. If we can keep this in mind, then, instead of being overcome when we lose them, we will be grateful for the time when we have them.

Profile

readoldthings

December 2024

S	M	T	W	T	F	S
1	2	3	4	5	6	7
8	9	10	11	12	13	14
15	16	17	18	19	20	21
22	23	24	25	26	27	28
29	30	31

Syndicate

Page Summary

Style Credit

Style: Neutral Good for Practicality by timeasmymeasure

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags

Page generated Feb. 4th, 2026 03:45 pm

Recent Entries

Daily Advice 12.16.20

Daily Advice 12.15.20

Daily Advice 12.14.20

Daily Advice 12.13.20

Daily Advice 12.12.20

Daily Advice 12.11.2020

Daily Advice 12.10.20

Daily Advice 12.7.20

Daily Advice 12.6.20

Daily Advice 12.05.20

Daily Advice 12.04.20

Daily Advice 12.03.20

Daily Advice 12.2.20

Daily Advice 12.1.20

Daily Advice 11.30.20

Daily Advice 11.29.20

Daily Advice 11.27.20

Daily Advice 11.26.20

Daily Advice 11.25.20

Daily Advice 11.24.20