Head-dibs

"You've endured countless troubles--all from not letting your ruling reason do the work it was made for--enough already!" (Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 9.26) There's this funny little feature on my computer called, "stickies." A little program that allows me to put "sticky notes" on my screen to remind myself to do something. I also have a pile of sticky notes, but use them to leave side notes on documents, reminders for someone else, so to speak. Over a thousand years ago, Emperor Marcus Aurelius left himself something like a sticky note in the above quote. He was able to recognize when he might very well have been the cause of problems he was experiencing, so he left a note to remind himself that enough is enough. There's this thing called a brain and that brain uses a thing called "reason." Specifically, "ruling reason." In other words, a line has been drawn--that's the rule. We might call it "conscience&

Yesterday's blog post about Anne Frank felt incomplete and it finally occurred to me that I missed an important element. I was so focused on the freedom of writing (journaling, blogging, keeping a diary) that I overlooked another key lesson implied in her quote. Here's what helped me realize my oversight: "Wherever a person can live, there one can also live well; life is also in the demands of court, there too one can live well." (Emperor Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 5.16) The thought came to me that Anne lived where she lived. For two years she had no choice. She could never leave her hiding place in The Secret Annex except in her imagination or on paper. The only people she could talk with were others in hiding as well. If they got along, they got along--but when they didn't, they didn't. So who was left to talk to but her diary? The point is this: " Wherever a person can live, there one can also live well."  Do your part to love and respec

Anne Frank wrote, "Paper has more patience than people." The Dutch Government issued a call for exiles to keep journals of their experiences and some think that Anne Frank's famous diary was her response to that call. Whatever her reason for writing, it is clear that she found a friend in a block of paper. Anne needed someone to talk to, simple as that. Sure, she lived in close quarters with others but those relationships could only go so far. She did not write every day, but when she did, Anne expressed what was on her mind: her stress, her thoughts, her need to work out matters. She worked it out with a pen. Paper is patient. Paper listens. Paper does not judge. Paper understands. Can one write electronically? Sure. There's something to the sound of clacking keys. But the dance of a pen on paper, the swoosh and swirl of thought flowing through the ink--captivating. It need not be legible. It need not make sense. Be mesmerized and soothed with the

“Apply yourself to thinking through difficulties—hard times can be softened, tight squeezes widened, and heavy loads made lighter for those who can apply the right pressure.” (Seneca, on Tranquility of Mind, 10.4) You know the song, "Pressure" as sung by David Bowie and Queen. The song plays a game that we should learn: it makes light of very difficult times. Listen to it. At the very beginning, there are no lyrics, just a sing-song  Mm ba ba de Um bum ba de Um bu bu bum da de Does that sound like someone under pressure? Singing a ditty? Take away the tune, read the lyrics as they stand and the song is quite dark--but the music reveals a change in perspective: there's another way to look at difficulties. The music is light! Apply a reverse-kind of pressure. The song says that love dares to make the change.  Well over a thousand years ago, the Roman Senator Seneca wrote about being intentional to stop and think through difficulties. "Hard times can be

Eight months ago I ditched my "to read" list and have focused exclusively on four books. That was a good decision. My intention is to continue reading these four books until always, but I'm in need of a small diversion. Since my favorite band of all time ever is "Rush" (intelligent rock and real music), I am enjoying another book by the greatest drummer and lyricist of all time: the quiet comedian and arm-chair philosopher, Neil Peart. "Far And Away: A Prize Every Time" (2011)

"Indeed how could exile be an obstacle to a person's own cultivation? Or to attaining virtue when no one has ever been cut off from learning or practicing what is needed by exile?" (Musonius Rufus, Lectures, 9.37, 39) Is one bettered by what sits on one's shelf, or by what one reads? Having invested so much time, money and space to the collection of so many books (and there are fewer in possession now than in time past), one wonders how many are for the sake of personal vanity and not personal cultivation. A person may not necessarily read a title but having it close it hand "for reference" brings a level of personal comfort--but when will that time come? And if that time never comes, then what is the purpose of collecting the title? Ever walk into an office and see a collection of books on a side table and notice how out out of place those books seem? Why does an insurance office have a embossed copies of "Moby Dick" and "Jane Eyre&

We are confused when it comes to the subject of death. When we receive word that an enemy has been killed or died, we are happy but when someone we know, like or love dies we are sad. So which is it? Are we happy or sad when it comes to the subject of death?  We eat without giving thought about the plant or animal that dies to feed us. We thrive on death. Freezers full of meat harvested at our own hand bring us delight with a little BBQ sauce, but when the dog dies . . .  Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, after hearing his father was ill, penned the following in a letter written April 4, 1787: “I have now made a habit of being prepared in all affairs of life for the worst. As death, when we come to consider it closely, is the true goal of our existence, I have formed during the last few years such close relationships with this best and truest friend of mankind that his image is not only no longer terrifying to me but is indeed very soothing and consoling, and I thank my God for gra

Grandpa dropped his glasses once in a pot of dye, And when he put them on again he saw a purple sky. Purple birds were rising up from a purple hill, Men were grinding purple cider at a purple mill. Purple Adeline was playing with a purple doll, Little purple dragonflies were crawling up the wall. And at the supper table he got crazy as a loon, From eating purple apple dumplings with a purple spoon. (Leroy F. Jackson) It does not happen often but when it does, I try not to act surprised.  "Why do you wear glasses?" The answer is simple: so I can see. Without them, the world is a blur.  "Why don't you wear contacts?" Because I wear tri-focals AND my glasses are treated as such that, when in the sun, the lenses darken, protecting my eyes from the glare.  "Don't they bother you?" No. I forget they are there.  In some ways, our thoughts are like grandpa's glasses. We view the world through a set of lenses, assuming everything

“The cucumber is bitter? Then throw it out. There are brambles in the path? Then go around. That’s all you need to know. Do not add, 'and why were such things made in the world?'" (Marcus Aurelius) A rotten cucumber is no good to one preparing a delicious salad but to a gardener preparing his compost, a rotten cucumber may be very good. If something has gone bad, repair it whenever possible, but if not, throw it away. A rotten cucumber is without repair to the cook. He does not ponder the existence of the nuisance, so why should anyone ponder the existence of a difficulty? The scientific mind wants to know and the philosophical mind wants to understand but good science already knows that all things break down and no combination of heat or chemical can make any good of a rotten cucumber if one intends to eat--unless one applies that rotten cucumber in another way.  The philosophical mind already understands that nature has no need for a trashcan, so wisdom dicta