Book 11

What a thinking mind can do: it sees itself, breaks itself down, makes itself whatever it wants to be, gets the results of its own work. Plants and animals—other people get to enjoy their fruits. But the mind reaches its own goal wherever death cuts life short. Not like dancing or acting and things like that, where the whole show falls apart if something interrupts it. The mind completes what it set out to do in every part and wherever it gets caught. So it can say: “I have what’s mine.” It also travels around the whole universe and the empty space around it and its shape. It reaches out into endless time and grasps the cycle where everything comes back and thinks about how the people after us won’t see anything newer and the people before us didn’t see anything more amazing. A forty-year-old with any brains has basically seen everything that was and will be, because it’s all the same type of stuff. What’s also special about a thinking mind: loving your neighbors, truth, respect, and not putting anything above itself—which is also what law does. So right thinking and fair thinking are the same thing.

You’ll look down on beautiful singing and dancing and fighting if you break the singing voice down into each individual sound and ask yourself about each one: “Does this overpower me?” You’ll be embarrassed. Do the same thing with dancing—break it down movement by movement, position by position. Same with fighting. So in general, except for virtue and what comes from virtue, remember to run to the details and break them down until you despise them. Apply this to your whole life too.

What kind of soul is ready to get freed from the body right now—whether to be put out, scattered, or stick around? This readiness should come from your own judgment, not from just being stubborn like the Christians[1], but from thinking it through and with dignity and in a way that convinces other people, without being dramatic about it.

I did something for the common good. So I got something out of it. Let this always be ready at hand, and never stop.

What’s your job? Being good. How do you do this well? From studying theories—some about universal nature, others about the specific make-up of humans.

First, tragedies were put on to remind us of what happens and that these things naturally happen this way, and that what entertains you on the stage shouldn’t annoy you on the bigger stage of life. You see that these things have to work out this way and even people who shout “Oh, Mount Cithaeron!”[2] bear them. The playwrights also say some useful things, especially this: “If I’m neglected by the gods, along with my children, there’s a reason for this too.” And again: “Don’t get angry at events.” And: “Harvest life like ripe grain”[3]. And things like that. After tragedy came old comedy, which taught with free speech and usefully reminded people not to be conceited through its plain talking—Diogenes picked up on this kind of thing too[4]. After this came middle comedy and then new comedy—but think about what purpose this was supposed to serve, gradually flowing toward the love of clever imitation. We know some useful things are said by these writers too, but what was the whole point of this kind of poetry and drama?

How clear it is that no other life situation is as good for doing philosophy as this one you happen to be in right now.

A branch cut from the branch next to it can’t help but be cut from the whole plant. Same way, a person torn away from one other person has fallen away from the whole community. Now someone else cuts the branch. But a person separates himself from his neighbor by hating and turning away, not knowing he’s also cut himself off from the whole system at the same time. But here’s a gift from Zeus who set up the community: we can grow back together with our neighbor and become part of the whole again. But if this kind of division happens too often, it makes what breaks away hard to unite and restore. Overall, the branch that grew together from the beginning and stayed connected by sharing the same breath isn’t like one that’s grafted back on after being cut off, whatever the gardeners say. Grow on the same bush, but don’t think the same way.

People who try to block you when you’re following right thinking can’t turn you away from healthy action. So don’t let them knock you off your kindness toward them either. Guard yourself equally on both sides—not just in steady judgment and action, but also in gentleness toward people trying to stop you or being difficult in other ways. Getting angry at them is also weak, just like giving up on action and giving in when you’re scared. Both are equally deserters—the one who runs scared and the one who gets hostile toward someone who’s naturally related and friendly.

“No nature is worse than skill”—skills copy nature. If this is true, then the most complete and comprehensive nature wouldn’t fall short of skilled craftsmanship. All skills make the worse things for the sake of the better ones. So does universal nature. This is where justice comes from, and from justice come the other virtues. Justice won’t be preserved if we either care about things that don’t matter or are easily fooled and quick to fall and quick to change.

The things that chasing and avoiding upset you about—they don’t come to you, but somehow you go to them. So let your judgment about them stay quiet, and they’ll stay still, and you won’t be seen chasing or avoiding.

The soul is a perfect sphere when it doesn’t stretch out toward anything or pull back inside or spread out or sink down, but shines with the light by which it sees the truth of everything and the truth in itself.

Someone will look down on me? That’s his problem. But I’ll make sure I’m not found doing or saying anything that deserves being looked down on. Will he hate me? That’s his problem. But I’ll be kind and good-natured to everyone, including him, ready to show him what he’s missing—not to shame him or to show off that I’m putting up with it, but genuinely and usefully, like that Phocion[5], if he wasn’t faking it. This is how the insides should be, and the gods should see a person who doesn’t get indignant about anything or suffer badly. What harm is it to you if you’re doing what fits your nature right now and accepting what’s right for universal nature right now—a human being focused on making the common good happen somehow?

They look down on each other while they try to please each other, and wanting to outdo each other they bow down to each other.

How rotten and fake is someone who says: “I’ve decided to deal with you straight.” What are you doing, man? You don’t need to announce this. It should show itself—it should be written on your forehead. Your voice should sound like that right away, it should stick out in your eyes right away, like how someone in love immediately recognizes everything in a lover’s look. A simple and good person should be like someone who smells strong, so that anyone standing nearby notices it right away whether they want to or not. Trying to act simple is a trick. Nothing is uglier than wolf-friendship[6]—avoid this most of all. A good, simple, and kind person has these things in their eyes and it’s not hidden.

Living beautifully—this power exists in the soul, if someone stays indifferent to indifferent things. You’ll be indifferent if you look at each of them separately and as a whole, remembering that none of them forces an opinion about itself on us or comes at us. The things stay still—we’re the ones who create judgments about them and sort of write them in ourselves, when we could choose not to write, and if one sneaks in somewhere, we could immediately erase it. Remember that paying attention like this will only last a short time and then life will be over. What’s so hard about things being different anyway? If they’re according to nature, enjoy them and they’ll be easy for you. If they’re against nature, look for what’s according to your own nature and go for that, even if it brings no glory. Everyone gets forgiveness for seeking their own good.

Where did each thing come from and what elements make it up and what does it change into and what will it be like after it changes and that it won’t suffer anything bad.

Gifts from the Muses.
First: My relation to other people—how we were born for each other’s sake, and in another sense, that I was born to lead them like a ram the flock or a bull the herd. Go back to the beginning: if it’s not just atoms, then it’s nature that manages everything. If so, the lower things exist for the higher, and the higher for each other.

Second: What sort of people they are at the dinner table, in bed, and in other things—and above all, what compulsions their beliefs create for them, and how arrogantly they do even these things.

Third: If they’re doing right, you shouldn’t be annoyed. If they’re doing wrong, it’s unwillingly and out of ignorance. Every soul is unwillingly deprived—of truth, of fairness, of treating people rightly. That’s why they’re upset when called unfair, unreasonable, greedy, or antisocial.

Fourth: You make many mistakes too, and you’re just like everyone else. Even if you hold back from certain mistakes, you still have the tendency to make them, even if cowardice or chasing reputation or some other vice keeps you from making the same ones.

Fifth: You haven’t even worked out if they’re making mistakes. Many things are done for reasons you don’t see, and in general you need to know a lot before you can judge another’s actions.

Sixth: Human life is just a moment, and soon we’re all laid out.

Seventh: It’s not their actions that trouble us—those lie in their own ruling minds. It’s our opinions. Take away the judgment that this is terrible, and the anger is gone. How? By remembering it’s not shameful. If shame weren’t the only evil, you’d be forced into many crimes—thieving and worse.

Eighth: How much heavier the anger and pain are than the things themselves that provoke them.

Ninth: Kindness is unbeatable, if it’s genuine and not faked. What can the most insulting person do if you keep being kind to him—and, if you get the chance, gently advise him, calmly show him where he’s mistaken: “No, son, we were born for something else. You’re not hurting me, you’re only hurting yourself.” Show him this gently, without sarcasm or bitterness, not like in a lecture hall or for bystanders’ applause, but just to him, even if others are present.

Remember these nine as gifts from the Muses. Begin to be human while you live. And guard against two things equally—anger and flattery. Both are antisocial. Keep this ready: what’s manly isn’t rage, but gentleness and civility. This is more human and more masculine—true strength, not weakness. Like grief shows weakness, so does anger. Both are wounds, both give in.

Tenth (a gift from the leader of the Muses): Expecting bad people not to do wrong is crazy—you’re asking for the impossible. But letting them be that way toward others while expecting them not to wrong you—that’s unreasonable and tyrannical.

You especially need to guard against four ways your ruling mind gets twisted, and when you catch them, wipe them out, saying about each one: “This thought isn’t necessary.” “This breaks up community.” “This isn’t going to come from yourself”—consider not speaking from yourself one of the most absurd things. The fourth is when you’ll blame yourself, because this is the divine part in you being defeated and bowing down to the less honorable and mortal part—the body and its rough or smooth movements.

All the airy and fiery parts mixed into you, even though they naturally rise up, still obey the arrangement of the whole and stay here in your compound. And all the earthy and watery parts in you, even though they naturally sink down, are still lifted up and take a position that’s not their natural one. So even the elements obey the whole when they’re put somewhere by force, staying until the signal for dissolution comes from there again. Isn’t it terrible that only your thinking part disobeys and gets annoyed with its own place? Nothing violent is commanded of it—only what’s natural to it. But it doesn’t put up with this and goes the opposite way. Movement toward injustices and indulgences and anger and grief and fears is nothing other than turning away from nature. And when the ruling mind gets annoyed with any of the things that happen, it also abandons its own place then. It was built for holiness and reverence for the gods no less than for justice. These are also forms of being good at community—in fact, they’re older than just actions.

“Someone who doesn’t have one single consistent goal for his whole life can’t be one and the same person throughout his whole life.” What’s been said isn’t enough unless you also add what kind of goal this should be. Just like people don’t have the same opinion about all the things that most people somehow think are good, but only about certain kinds—that is, common goods—so too you need to set up a goal that’s social and political. Someone who directs all his personal impulses toward this will make all his actions similar and because of this will always be the same person.

The mountain mouse and the house mouse, and how the house mouse gets scared and runs around.

Socrates used to call the opinions of the masses “Lamias”—things to scare children[7].

Spartans gave visitors seats in the shade at public events, but sat wherever they happened to be.

Socrates to Perdiccas about why he wouldn’t come visit him: “So I won’t die the worst death,” meaning, so I won’t receive good treatment and not be able to return the favor[8].

In the writings of the Epicureans there was an instruction to constantly remember some ancient person who lived virtuously[9].

The Pythagoreans: look up at the sky in the morning to remind ourselves of beings that always do their own work in the same way, and of order and purity and nakedness—no star has a veil[10].

How Socrates looked wearing just a skin when Xanthippe took his cloak and went out, and what Socrates said to his friends when they were embarrassed and backed away after seeing him dressed like that[11].

In writing and reading, you won’t lead until you’re led. Much more so in life.

“You were born a slave—you have no share in reason”[12].

“And my dear heart laughed”[13].

“They’ll blame virtue, speaking harsh words”[14].

Looking for figs in winter is crazy. So is someone looking for a child when it’s no longer given[15].

When kissing your child, Epictetus said, you should whisper inside: “Tomorrow you might die.” “These are bad omens.” “Nothing’s a bad omen,” he said, “that indicates some natural process. Or is it also a bad omen for grain to be harvested?”[16]

Unripe grape, ripe grape, raisin—all changes, not into non-being, but into what doesn’t exist now.

“No one can steal your choice”—Epictetus[17].

He said you need to find a skill for giving consent, and in the area of impulses keep your attention, so they’re conditional, so they’re social, so they match the worth of things. Stay completely away from desire, and don’t use avoidance toward anything not under our control[18].

“The struggle isn’t about something trivial,” he said, “but about whether to be crazy or not”[19].

Socrates used to say: “What do you want—to have rational souls or irrational ones?” “Rational ones.” “What kind of rational ones? Healthy or sick?” “Healthy ones.” “Then why aren’t you looking for that?” “Because we have it.” “Then why do you fight and argue?”[20]