Stoic Poetry

November 13, 2019 | Dear Eric, I sometimes—often, in fact—indulge a little too much. The temptation is so innocent a thing...just another slice of pizza, just another size up of my sweet blended drink, a large when a medium—or better still a small—would do... It's such as small sin, is it not? Such a tiny thing... But then I sit there afterwards, slightly bloated, or zipped up on too much sugar. Or, I'll feel the consequence in a few days when my waistline resists my belt and I need to tighten out another notch. It's a battle I can never quite win—this press to resist and consume less, to take a smaller share of whatever portion is offered to me, or whatever portion I decide I want or even need. Though I know there is some prize in saying no, especially after the deed isn't done. Though I usually decline that more worthy challenge and reward in favor of some delicious, invigorating, stimulating moments now of munching and sipping and, of course, the sweet distraction that these distractions bring. But maybe there's some virtue yet to be made of this excess? Perhaps there is something good to be done of too much?

It's actually not hard to turn the spoiled stuff of our weakness into the wholesome substance of virtue. For this transformation is accomplished whenever we recognize what we have done, and accept the consequence we suffer now, or the suffering to come, and then decide that, though we previously failed to restrain our hand, or mouth, or wallet, or libido, or whatever, in our former decision to consume too much, we can now play a secondary option of bearing well the consequence we have brought upon ourselves by virtue of our intemperate want. Goodness is ours now, as we groan through our tummy ache. Virtue is at hand, as we examine our drained bank account. Peace is close within sight, as we fess up our indiscreet folly. And though it may not feel very good in the moment of our rising; the fact of our choice now to rise—and the willful exercise of such strength—in standing from our fall...to totter upon our own two feet in the bare and open wind, is sufficient reward itself to not erase our past excess, but at least to make the living of such indulgence something worth living after all.

The distraction was seemingly good. Though the bearing well of recognizing the consequence of our unworthy distraction is something much better.

Full blog post URL: https://www.goingalone.org/post/stoic-poetry-bearing-well-the-pain-of-gluttony

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November 12, 2019 | Dear Eric, I recently added a new principle to The Good Life which I call the Principle of Public Speaking. The idea is to always imagine that anyone about whom I am talking is beside me, overhearing everything I say about them. In this way, I hope to enlist the normal courtesy and good manners we mostly all follow in not speaking ill or untoward of anyone to their face. Mostly, this strategy works; though sometimes I forget my plan and gossip about someone in ways I hope they never hear. It's an imperfect objective to never gossip about others, though a quite worthwhile aim to improve and strive towards.

Mostly, I think we gossip for the usual reason... Well, it's a usual reason for me, at least; and I'm becoming suspicious it is also the usual reason for you as well...for all of us, in fact. We wish to distract ourselves with life. We distract ourselves with the busyness of everything that occupies our mind: We go to school, and work, and make friends, and engage in fun and games and intrigue and drama and watch TV and clean the house and go shopping and take a nap or a walk or play with the dog, or raise kids and create a home and plan for retirement and then get old and perhaps pine for our youth and mull over regrets and how things could have been and tell ourselves of the better life to come when this veil of tears is done...and then we die. All the while we're distracting ourselves from the nothing which looms around our everything. We pretend with our many ways of living that there is no nothing behind and not supporting it all. We imagine we are not indeed floating in space; supported by no force other than gravity, which pulls inexorably towards a center of mass which is our planet, and then another center of mass which is our galaxy, and then still further centers of mass which are the galaxy clusters beyond. All aims ultimately ending within the incomprehensible depths of a galaxy cluster black hole. A mystery to be sure. A fact also to be sure...that if the universe is designed and tuned for anything...it seems to be designed and tuned for "the creation of black holes." Not us. What the hell do we make of that? These facts are almost incomprehensible... What do we make of such a place, such a home, such a purpose? I don't know...

And so, we tell each other stories, and we live our lives, and we go to school, and then find a job and take a lover and get married and make children and save for our future and our security and enjoy amusements and we get on with life. And we also talk about one another. We share gossip about our co-workers and our family and our friends and the people we see on television. And thus the time passes by so soon... A lifetime of living and talking and gossip and distraction. Time passes until the end draws near and we hold our rosary perhaps to count beads - another distraction - until our breathing becomes so labored that we must drop the beads and simply look into the eyes of those who love us and who have come to distract us—and themselves—in our last moments with thoughts of love and togetherness and forever. And we then die and go out like candles with no further need of distraction or any other thoughts. At last we cannot avoid or distract any longer...as the thing we sought not to know is now the very thing we have not become.

Full blog post URL: https://www.goingalone.org/post/the-principle-of-public-speaking

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November 6, 2019 | Dear Eric, I'm very good at being wrong. It's a knack, kinda. And I'm often wrong on the same decision more than once. That's a real talent of sorts—not a good talent, but REAL. Being wrong once, and then again, can really drain us of our resources, not to mention our confidence and resolve. So, maybe it would be better if I stood less firm sometimes on my resolutions? Perhaps I should be more willing to step down or away from an aim when the wind begins to blow in another direction? Though something about this doesn't sound right or ring true to my sense that life is something of a fight which we must engage towards worthy ends. But what if those ends prove not worthy? Or simply wrong?

The risk it seems is that we may step away from a worthy aim. The risk is that we might give up too soon for fear we might fail in our pursuit of something good. How do we then prevent giving up virtue? The key is to clearly examine our goal to discover if it is truly good. For even if the aim is wrong—maybe not the right thing to do in this moment, or in this way—then as long as if it was a good thing to try, then the pursuit was worthwhile, then we were indeed engaging our time and energy and resources towards worthwhile ends. So now, when I endeavor to begin some new campaign of life I'll ask myself less if what I am about to do is the right thing to do, and more if it is a good thing to do. For then, even if I fail I will succeed. And if I discover later that this thing is indeed not good, not of virtue, not in the pursuit of the well-being of thinking creatures, then I will stop at once, and direct my time, energies and resources towards better ends. And I'll do so without much regret for lost time, wasted energy, or expended resources; as I am always one who seeks at least to use these well, even if I don't always quite get it right.

Full blog post URL: https://www.goingalone.org/post/a-good-reason-to-change-our-mind

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November 4, 2019 | Dear Eric, I've noticed a new trend in my thinking and writing... I've been coming upon the theme of fire often. Not fire, as in burning fire, but fire as a sort of symbol and emblem for the need we have to come together and keep back the night. It's a curious thing this community we seek—this community of warmth. I guess I really shouldn't be surprised though, as we humans seem to like being together. I think this is because when we are with others we feel more alive than we do when we're alone. Maybe this is why we like to die in the company of friends and family—or maybe friends and family simply prefer we die with them? As there's warmth and comfort around the glow of one-another. But, there's also a denial of sorts, and a distance of a sort, and a seeming refusal to face straight and plain what is... I think this is one reason we form friendships, and one reason we join clubs, and a reason to align our ideas and our actions, and our clothing, and the look of our yards and even the gods we say are true... Just imagine a world otherwise... A world where every man and woman was a culture of their own. Where each of us held sound-seeming perspective of our own view; the result of our own lives, and the bias of our unique biology, upbringing and experience. Would such a system work? Would a community of such individuals succeed or fail before it even got started? I don't think we can know...as I don't think we have the ability to live such lives en-mass. It seems we can only do this by ones and twos and ones again. Only sometimes do people appear among us who wish to live away from the fire. Maybe it's a fluke in their nature? Maybe they—we—are broken in some way? Those of us who are not attracted to the fire so much, and who would rather wander away into the cold and the dark to experience...the cold and the dark.

Full blog post URL: https://www.goingalone.org/post/to-experience-the-cold-and-the-dark

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October 31, 2019 | Dear Eric, It's a neat trick to neither lament nor attempt to remember the lives we did not live. For we all walk strange roads in our minds sometimes when our current path becomes rough or confused. It's tempting to reflect on the ways we could have gone instead of becoming now so seemingly lost. But what mastery to reflect little or not at all on imagined lives, no more than to be remembered as a cautionary tale to inform reason ahead of our future way.

I'd walk always today just where I am now. And walk tomorrow from where today's journey takes me. Never wanting to be someone else, or someplace else, or to be doing other than what I must or should or what necessity or the pursuit of virtue demands; all the while remembering my still better self and adjusting my aim towards that more worthy mark. And so, I'll live truly from day through day. I'll live well in the life that I have yet to live. There will be no pining for past lives never lived, or a current now only imagined like a dream, or some tomorrow which truly could never be. There's always room for a true tomorrow. There's always a place for a better next sunrise. Though only if we arrive at that place via the contented journey starting with now.

Full blog post: https://youtu.be/oj2btFUqyhY

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October 30, 2019 | Dear Eric, Both joy and suffering can yield the same sweet harvest if we know how to winnow the chaff from the grain. For there is good grain in misfortune. A very sweet grain, quite wholesome to consume or to just acquire or possess, or to even see even, or to simply know that it might exist—that alone is sufficient sometimes to take in the harvest, the knowledge that misfortune may bear us good fruit. Oh, but what then could not be a blessing if all is an opportunity to gain sustenance in life? This is the paradox of the Stoic mind; that all roads may lead to good. But maybe paradox is not the right word - though it seems a paradox from the more conventional perspective of good and bad fortune. How can both be one? It's quite easy, in fact. As perceived misfortune becomes good fortune when we learn to bear it well. We are blessed to be ill when we can maintain our balance by sitting down when dizzy. We make fever into something good when we close our eyes to wait in peace while our body rages in heat towards either death or recovery, and we wait quietly to accept either end. And pain even becomes like a teacher when our outward appearance and attitude displays sameness through pulsing ache and relief.

Each downward arc of life brings us into an arena more challenging and worthy than every upward blessing combined. For what opportunity is there is good fortune, but to enjoy and become more easily content? We recline still further into our warm pillows, resting in peace behind locked doors, buttressed and safe with full bank accounts, enjoying the lively chatter of those we love who now share our goodness and make of life as though this living were forever. There is not even the howling to contemplate from such secure and wondrous living. What a place! What a blessing!

I'm in no way suggesting we should seek suffering over peace and security. I'd never wish or want that for anyone. I'm only suggesting that all is not lost when things do eventually go wrong, as we might call it. For there is resolve in rising from the pillows, and there is attendance when the door lock is removed, and the chance for determination and hard work when the bank account is emptied, and introspection and reflection on what is true and important when the lively chatter has ceased, and we must face what may be real of both life and death. And understanding when the howling draws near and we've nothing to buttress a defense and must walk or stand alone out there in the wild. Now, it's time for a blessing of another sort. Now, it's time to stop counting our vain blessings of good and to instead see the blessing of goodness.

Full blog post URL: https://www.goingalone.org/post/the-blessing-of-goodness

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October 29, 2019 | Dear Eric, I'd like to tell you the tale of my falling, and my recovery. It's a good tale. And most of us have such a tale. Sadly, yours is largely just a story of falling; and there's not much lesson in simply going down, save perhaps as a cautionary tale to those who might likewise stumble. Though I know you'd argue this point with me if you could. But my point is—you can't.

When we fall and then rise we tell a story of up and down. It's a good tale. A worthy account. And fine instruction for the young, setting out and making ready for their own stumbling journey. But what of the account of our time on the ground? Isn't that something worth sharing as well?

The well-defeated know how to linger well in their defeat; as they've nearly given up; or they have given up—and are ready now to wait out their suffering until either life is done or the universe adjusts its orbit to somehow make things better. They are done...or nearly so. And such defeated simply rest in their fate like stones tumbled to the valley floor. Maybe there will be more to the journey if a flood comes to carry them further down the valley? Or perhaps soon the earth will simply cover them up with dirt for the long end underground... Either way—onward or downward—the well-defeated are ready.

Curiously, such giving in to the onslaught of life reveals some quality of Stoic virtue—though the defeated may hardly feel like philosophers while lying bruised and battered and possibly in pain upon the ground. Though there is some virtue in facing the fact of our having been—or still being—pummeled; and that only death or change await, and that it might be time to simply wait out our suffering in some silence and resolve - resolve to go either on or accept our end, and to be alright with either path - though we'd prefer to go on, though we'd prefer not too suffer more, though we know it may be time to simply still the mind and the body and the tongue while the seconds tick on loudly in our ears. Maybe someone will offer us an aspirin to ease the pain? Or maybe a blanket to keep back the chill? Or maybe a hand up off the ground? But if not, then I'll lay here for a piece and consider my ample good fortune in keeping quiet and still. I'll exercise virtue in the midst of my fall through silent anticipation of either recovery or the end.

Blog post URL: https://www.goingalone.org/post/the-blessing-of-a-good-defeat

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October 28, 2019 | Dear Eric, When we are young there are many who hear; though as we age there seem fewer to listen. There is something about the ripeness of youth that draws the attention of life; like full and lustrous cherries hanging heavy on the rich bough of a cherry tree, ripe and inviting, drawing what is living close with the promise of energy, vitality and the nourishment of what is new. And this is good, as the young have very important things to say... They tell us about what is now, and what is next, and they offer promise to carry on after us once we are too weak to stand and walk on our own. The young are the vital link between ourselves and a future we will never know. And so, we listen to what they say, and we watch what they do, and we celebrate what they are and promise to someday become. This is a good thing. It's good for our species to look forward.

But the old have words as well...and sometimes even something to say, and their own time to speak; though their language may be less attractive than the ripe words of youth. For the old speak like acorns dropped from an ancient gnarled oak tree, peppering the ground below our feet among the autumn leaves. It's easy for such words to become missed, like a cool autumn wind passing by our ears, or an acorn covered up by a cloud of tumbling leaves. We are too distracted by our desire to get to and remain in the sunlight. Let us get out from under this old tree's great shade. Let's go out to the meadow there in the sun—as though the summer has just passed, it's a fine day nonetheless—and though we may not find cherries out there in the meadow, we'll at least be under the sun.

So, though we may have something to say in our old age, we'd better speak up while we are young and there's anyone yet who cares to listen. And though it's true our young words might be folly, it's good practice to voice opinion and hear response while others are still curious about what we might wish to say. And if we keep it up, we might then arrive still sooner at a place where our words resound with some real experience and meaning, and those who did previously listen might still linger to hear our more, and our better, and our words which drop like shaken acorns from a tree blown hard by the coming winter winds. Words which might be tangy or acid to taste—nothing like the sweet cherries of youth—yet which perhaps might nourish if gathered, stored and prepared with care. These are the words of a well-lived life. A life which perhaps began speaking with the interesting promise and folly of youth, and finished with something more permanent and sound to last through the night.

This is the Season of Philosophy... A time of life to speak what we've beheld as true. Before we pass forever to the oblivion which is seemingly also something true.

Blog post URL: https://www.goingalone.org/post/old-voices-command-small-audience

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October 27, 2019 Dear Eric, Nice try, that... Though maybe you will have the last laugh. But I think you left us on the promise of wishful thinking... You wished to live on. You convinced yourself so completely of life after death that you hastened to death to prove your point. Maybe now you are smiling and giggling from afterlife at my doubt and folly. Maybe you will get the last laugh. Though you sure did get a short life.

Sometimes it seems we need an extra set of hands to use in covering not only our ears, but our eyes as well. Anything to not see death coming. Anything to quiet the sound of our footsteps on the way to the gallows. By some estimates our species has had roughly one-hundred and fifty thousand years of sentience to prove the point of life after death; and so far the best we've come up with is faith, which is no better than wishful thinking. I think the case has therefore been made. Along with the evidence of dissolution. And the curious memory of not being, which we can each easily recall when asked to think about our potential existence before birth—that utter, timeless empty we recall of the long past before we were here, which reason suggests is the same future we'll know after we're gone. There's no good reason to think otherwise. Oh, but there's faith, and there's tradition, and there's songs of hope and big buildings and a wise man in robes who shakes my hand as we leave church on Sunday. And there's the service beside the grave and the hopeful faces. Surely, all this isn't just contrived for our comfort? Why...who would write such a big and impressive book if the story within the book were not true? Answer me that!?!

I'll answer with what I know. That the universe is mute on the subject. That the stories and songs and speeches and tears are our own. That nothing in nature says otherwise. That the stars shine just as bright or dim over a baby as a dead man. That none have truly ever returned. That our stories are our own, and are in conflict with one another, and vary by culture, and with the context of various group consensus. That what is common and true is our near universal love of life and dread and fear of death. We wish to live on. We're desperate not to go. And so, we keep the stories. And we whisper prayers. And we cover our ears—wishing perhaps for an extra set of hands to cover our eyes as well. Won't you help me cover my eyes, too?

Blog post URL: https://www.goingalone.org/post/covering-ears-and-eyes

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The Path of Wildness

October 20, 2019

Dear Eric,

I've an opportunity to exercise what is perhaps my earliest principle - The Path of Wildness:

The Path of Wildness is easy to find

The course of a stream

Leaves blown in the wind

A beast's track through the brush

And the direction of our first inclination

In particular, I've been offered a chance of new work in a new city. I know this routine well, it means a new life; or rather, a new chapter in my one and only life. Yumiko - my wife - knows this routine also, as she's been my partner in all but one of the many chapters we've so far shared. But should we do it - assuming the offer comes through? Should we give up our current safe and sane - a quite wonderful safe and sane to be sure - for the doubt and challenge of what is largely unknown?

I've done the math and the figures show nicely in favor of going. I learned that I must work until age 67 anyway, something about the way Social Security is set up, and so this is the same if we stay or go. And though my prospects at my current job are good if I stay, they aren't bad either if I go. It's safer, I think, to stay. As I've developed a reputation and many connections of trust and appreciation built of hard work and a dedication to doing good. Sure, I can build these again in the new place, but that's a lot of social capital to give up. But on the other hand, it may be wise to spread myself a little more around the public-sector community of Information Technology (my field), should hard times come and I need or wish to leverage connections for a new situation. But I'm not young. I'll be fifty-six with my next birthday. But yeah, I'll be fifty-six... How many more adventures have I got left in me?? And then there's my wife... She seems keen. I think she'd like a change. Heck, we'd both like a change. Not that this life is bad, but because we both enjoy change. Change is the thing we both love. Living many lives in a single lifetime is our hobby. It's the quality that brought us together and propelled us through our life together to date. We both know we'll need to settle at last. But in the meantime...do we have another adventure yet to enjoy and partake? I suspect we do. This is the gut feeling which I'll address shortly.

What I've just done there...that paragraph above...is the first part of The Path of Wildness. It's the exercise of evaluation, of collecting and assessing the facts of the case and the options ahead. It's looking at what is real and making an honest case for and against, or towards one option or the other, to the right or the left, or whatever decision might be made...or not be made; for not deciding is also an option, though maybe a very dangerous option. Can you live with yourself later if you do not decide? If you withdraw from the challenge of worthy life consideration, will you then find yourself haunted later with the echo of "what if?” Surely, that's a risk. Surely that's a fact. It's that risk - the risk of avoiding risk - which we attempt to assuage through the bold treatment of options just ahead of the life we might - or might not - live. And so, I'll step boldly - perhaps with shaking legs - upon The Path of Wildness and make my choice.

The Path of Wildness is easy to find

The course of a stream

Leaves blown in the wind

A beast's track through the brush

And the direction of our first inclination

And now, I've assessed the facts and I know better the reality of the options before me. I'll be darned if the way isn't clear. Even if the way is clear, it still isn't clear; as there is doubt and suspect and worry and possible regret huddled nearby whispering among themselves in the shadows of my fear. Muss muss goes the gossipy voices... Muss muss they seem to say, while shooting me...