The Fire Burns Anyway

Discipline is good, and reason is good, but Zeno tells us that we are fire. We contain the divine spark that gave birth to the universe, and look at the universe! It's a swirling mass of energy! Things collide and explode... whole galaxies born in fire.

We have that in us. Maybe it burns brighter sometimes and darker at other times.

Today I met somebody in whom the fire burns very bright, but he is afraid of it. He wants to put it out because he fears failing. He won't risk anything... yet the fire burns. It would be easier for him if it didn't, but it does.

What a paltry thing to fear, failure, compared to the Divine fire.

I wish that he could see himself as I see him.

It's Good Training

"If you want to improve, be content to be thought foolish and stupid."

Epictetus


Maxims are important. It is advisable to have a supply of them at hand when times get tough. When we enter the stress response, when our adrenaline starts pumping and our heart starts beating our higher cognitive functions are shoved aside by our lower instincts. At these times maxims are a workaround back to rationality. They're a cheat code.

I find that the maxim which rises through my mental muck the most often is "This is good training."

I don't know exactly where I picked it up. I know that Epictetus advises us to repeat "It is for this that I trained" when we encounter tragedy, so it's probably related to that. Also, when I was in the military and somebody did something stupid all the NCO's would mumble "it's good training." More sweat on the training field means less blood on the battlefield, as they say. Make your mistakes when the stakes are low and you won't make the same mistakes when the stakes are high.

Hmm... so I guess I DO know where that comes from. Strange how writing a thing down can clarify it.

Anyway, I save "It is for this that I trained" for the big tragedies and "This is good training" for everyday annoyances.

Suppose, for example, that somebody asks something unreasonable of me. Suppose that I'm neck deep in a project and they want me to drop it all for a low priority task. I could swallow my rage and do it or I could blow up at them and call them selfish or I can repeat "it's good training," center my mind and work on a new skill.

"I understand, but this is my priority. I can talk to you about your thing later. I have to get back to this."

It's measured. Who can argue with it? It's not even mean. I'm just letting a fellow creature know what I'm thinking.

So what about when I lose my cool and do something stupid? Well, that's life.

If I want to improve, I must be content to be thought foolish and stupid. It's part of the game. I will make mistakes and people will see me make them. Some of those people will think that I am foolish and stupid. It WILL happen, so I will prepare for it. It's good training.

Nobody shows up to a golf course on Day 1 and smacks 300 yard drives time after time. They bounce balls off of trees, hit them straight up, plough divots everywhere... failure is part of the deal. If we can internalize this idea then failure will have less power over us. We will use it rather than subjugate ourselves to it. We will learn and move on.

It's good training.

Lazy Stoicism And The Viper's Tongue

I've got a mouth. I don't mean that I literally have an orifice which allows me to breathe and ingest nutrients, though I certainly have that. I mean it in the Southern sense: "That fella's got a mouth on him."

I'm sarcastic. In our age this trait is often characterized as a plus. I have a buddy, for example, who dates online and he says he's amazed by how many people list "sarcasm" as a positive personality trait. This perplexes him. Why would he want to date an openly sarcastic person? Why sign up for mockery?

"So I just scraped my car's rim against a curb, right? So not only do I have a scratched rim but my date is laughing at me and cracking jokes. Not attractive."

That one didn't work out. Now as a good Stoic I would try to develop myself to the point that neither the scratch nor the date's laughter mattered, of course, but his point is well taken. If the world is filled with potential dates why choose a sarcastic one? Why add to your burden?

My grandmother once told me that I have the tongue of a viper. She was herself a sharp-tongued German lady from North Dakota, brought up hard in an unforgiving environment  amid naturally Stoic people. Her world view was an unusual combination of deeply humanitarian impulses and high cynicism. She would feed every kid in the neighborhood but they would all fear the sting of her words if they stepped out of line. She passed this on to my father.

"A pessimist is never disappointed," he would tell me. He would also tell me to "watch my mouth" on a regular basis. I got his mouth, he said, and he got his mother's mouth... who knows how far back the mouth goes? No doubt some Teutonic tribeswomen once stood along the banks of the Danube taunting her nephew for skinning a hog the wrong way, and she begat me.

I can't relate that without admiration, though... I think that what people appreciate in a sarcastic comment is the fact that the originator had the nerve to make it in the first place. Perhaps sarcastic people come off as confident, or superior... I don't know.

As a supposedly practicing Stoic I make a conscious effort not to use my mouth. Sarcasm is insincere, after all. It's not kind and in my case it betrays irritation and insecurity.

I'd been doing pretty well in the last few months, but there came a day when I hadn't gotten enough sleep and I'd had one too many annoying personal interactions and my Stoicism failed me, or rather I failed it.

Whatever. In any case, I said something really sarcastic. My target pointed this out without replying in kind. It was embarrassing... for a moment.

"Well," my Stoic self said, "we don't want to do that again. Apologize, learn, and move on."

Which is what I did. Then we both felt better.

It was automatic. I didn't go home and lose sleep, I didn't mull it over with a friend, I didn't do an internet search on how to be less sarcastic... I just recognized the mistake, made a complete apology and vowed to do better.

It was easy. It felt lazy.

I think this stuff is working. I think that by deliberately thinking a certain way I am actually forming a mental habit. My default state is becoming more Stoic.

It's weird that this surprises me, but it does. I had a similar experience recently when I lifted up my youngest son. It didn't hurt like it used to. I started lifting weights two months ago and now I'm stronger. I must have secretly believed that it wouldn't really work, and then was surprised when it did. Same thing with my Stoicism...

Hipster Irony

I'd like to develop my thoughts on hipsterism a bit further. In my last essay I described an encounter with hipsters in which I found that some self-reflection allowed me to abandon my own insecurity and appreciate them for what they were. I even admitted to displaying a certain amount of hipster aesthetic. I'm not a hipster myself, though. One stark difference between us remains: they value irony more than sincerity. I don't.

We live in an ironic age, we are told. One aspect of modern irony is self-deprecation. We make fun of ourselves. Why? According to Christy Wampole (How to Live Without Irony) we do so to preempt criticism. We do it out of fear.

"Take, for example, an ad that calls itself an ad, makes fun of its own format, and attempts to lure its target market to laugh at and with it. It pre-emptively acknowledges its own failure to accomplish anything meaningful. No attack can be set against it, as it has already conquered itself. The ironic frame functions as a shield against criticism. The same goes for ironic living. Irony is the most self-defensive mode, as it allows a person to dodge responsibility for his or her choices, aesthetic and otherwise. To live ironicly is to hide in public."

I think that there's something to this. We insult ourselves before other people can. If we produce something sincere on a social media platform and people mock us it stings because they are mocking who we are. If we present ourselves as clownish figures, though, we preempt their mockery with our own. We are in on the joke. It's safer. We risk less. Isn't this a species of cowardice? 

Wampole's essay is excellent, and I think that she is right to be suspicious of irony, but she misses a very important aspect of hipster culture: authenticity.

One of the great hallmarks of hipster culture is the rejection of consumerism. Hipsters shun the cheap and instant. Why do hipsters spend $200 on jeans made from antique looms in Japan? Because those are the REAL thing. That's what jeans are supposed to be. People put effort into them. People cared about them. That smacks of... sincerity.

In her essay Wampole pokes fun at trombone playing hipsters. Fair enough; it seems a little odd, but let me tell you, anybody who gets decent at the trombone is sincere. They may laugh about it with their friends, they may play it off as a quirky hobby, but they are absolutely sincere. Learning an instrument takes discipline and commitment. There's no irony to be mined there. 

Why learn the trombone at all? So that you can pull it out, play something jaunty for twenty seconds and then have a laugh with your friends? No. Hipsters learn to play trombone because the trombone is real in a way that Rhianna is not. I've seen hipster brass bands playing on street corners; they mean it. Complement their playing and their eyes shine with pride. 

What I see in the hipster movement is a looking back to some of the things we've lost as a culture. We used to make things with our hands. We used to pay real money for real craftsmanship. Life was slower. Hipsters were raised in a fast-paced consumerist wonderland where everything is available on demand, instantly. They crave something more meaningful.

Consider some evidence Jonathan Fitzgerald's counter argument to Wampole:

"All across the pop culture spectrum, the emphasis on sincerity and authenticity that has arisen has made it un-ironically cool to care about spirituality, family, neighbors, the environment, and the country. And pollsters find this same trend in the up-and-coming generation from which Wampole culls her hipsters, Millennials. A recent Knights of Columbus-Marist Poll survey found that among Millennials, six out of 10 prioritized being close to God and having a good family life above anything else. For those in Generation X, family was still important, but the second priority was not spirituality—it was making a lot of money. Clearly, a change has been underway."

Now, do hipsters present themselves with a bit of irony? Absolutely. If you're going to twist your mustache into waxed handlebars then you're going to stand out from the dominant culture, and irony is a serviceable defense mechanism. But behind the irony stands a deeper ethic: sincerity.

And let us remember that sincerity doesn't automatically mean "good." Take the classic example from the 80's megahit Wall Street, in which Gordon Gekko tells us that greed is good. It's supposed to be a cautionary tale, but people adopted it as a mantra:

There's no irony to be found there! He's completely sincere. That slicked-back hair is the predatory embodiment of a shark's fins. Those power shoulders are meant to intimidate. 

I'll take hipster irony over yuppie sincerity any day, friends. 

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Thanks to Greg Milner for linking to Wampole's essay. I found inspiration in a counter argument to that essay by Jonathan Fitzgerald. Read Mr. Fitzgerald's work here.

The Hipster And The Stoic

There's a new coffee bar where I live called Archive. My wife and I enjoy coffee and we enjoy playing cards in coffee shops, so we walked in and sat down. It was fun. The proprietors have a real eye for detail.

For starters everything looks reclaimed. The walls seem hung with old beams from leather boot factories. There's a very interesting image on the far wall made out of thread wound around nails. I looked around before I poked it. Nice tension; quality craftsmanship.

Then there are the barristas, who look a lot like civil war veterans. Their beards are long and well kempt, and the whitewalled sides of their heads grow into slick-backed demi-pompadours. Jeans are made of selvage denim and cuffed. Footwear looks like something paratroopers strapped up before jumping over Normandy. Sleeves are rolled and suspenders bring it all together.

They're very friendly and they know what they're talking about when it comes to coffee. They view themselves as artisans, and the product justifies that view.

We enjoyed it.

Still, nagging at the back of my brain, a small voice kept saying "poseurs."

Why? Why did I feel a need to judge these very kind, sincere people?

One of the great benefits of Stoicism is that it cultivates an ability to separate oneself from one's thoughts and examine them from the outside. I think this is what Seneca means when he says:

"What progress have I made? I am beginning to be my own friend.’ That is progress indeed. Such a people will never be alone and you may be sure he is a friend to all."

First, I felt a little threatened. Hipsters often present as intellectuals. Sometimes it's a calculated pose, but in my experience it's often not. Often they really are people who read and think. They're into alternative lifestyles and alternative philosophies... What if they know something that I don't? What if they're smarter?

A number of them definitely are smarter. Isn't that good? Engaging in conversation with a smart person who knows something that I don't should be improving, not threatening. I have a feeling that a number of young Stoics I interact with online might fit into the hipster category. We're all reviving a nearly extinct philosophy, after all.  That's pretty fringe.

I find that these young Stoics really know their stuff. They're often not weighed down by family and career in the same way that I am. They have time to think. When I listen to them and offer them friendship we both benefit. When I refute them and offer sarcasm neither of us benefit.

So feeling threatened by hipsters is not a worthy thought. Moving on...

Second, I felt out of place. I didn't belong. I didn't dress like them, for starters. I keep a short beard and I wear those sort of 60's style glasses because those are about the only kind you can get anymore, but I was just wearing some old leather shoes, battered jeans and an old button up shirt... hang on...

There I am in a beard and horned rimmed glasses sipping fair-trade yirgacheffe coffee and playing cards with my wife on a reclaimed work bench while people talk about art and philosophy all around me...

Am I a hipster?

Does it matter? Maybe a good cup of coffee is just a good cup of coffee, and good conversation is just good conversation. Maybe choosing to think this way will make me more of a friend to all.

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I release the above picture into the public domain, because that's the kind of guy I am. This one's for you, StoicBeCuz.

Seneca on Moving

"Judging by what you write me, and by what I hear, I am forming a good opinion regarding your future. You do not run hither and thither and distract yourself by changing your abode; for such restlessness is the sign of a disordered spirit. The primary indication, to my thinking, of a well-ordered mind is a man's ability to remain in one place and linger in his own company. Be careful, however, lest this reading of many authors and books of every sort may tend to make you discursive and unsteady. You must linger among a limited number of master-thinkers, and digest their works, if you would derive ideas which shall win firm hold in your mind. Everywhere means nowhere. When a person spends all his time in foreign travel, he ends by having many acquaintances, but no friends. And the same thing must hold true of men who seek intimate acquaintance with no single author, but visit them all in a hasty and hurried manner. Food does no good and is not assimilated into the body if it leaves the stomach as soon as it is eaten; nothing hinders a cure so much as frequent change of medicine; no wound will heal when one salve is tried after another; a plant which is often moved can never grow strong. There is nothing so efficacious that it can be helpful while it is being shifted about. And in reading of many books is distraction."

My perception of the Romans of Seneca's time and class is that they were liesured and constantly in search of novelty. They were trying to fill up their lives with new places, exotic food, and ALL the ideas.

Is that bad? I don't know, but I DO know that I live in such a time myself, and I live in something like such a class. I don't have servants and I do have a job, but there are similarities.

I haven't found flitting from place to place and food to food to be very satisfying, and allthough I enjoy jumping from book to book I find that when I take Seneca's advice and really study just one I get a lot more out of it. When I flit I barely remember any of it.

More on this at the dabbalism reddit...

Be Your Own Friend

"What progress have I made? I am beginning to be my own friend.’ That is progress indeed. Such a people will never be alone and you may be sure he is a friend to all."

"Nothing, to my way of thinking, is a better proof of a well ordered mind than a man’s ability to stop just where he is and pass some time in his own company."

Seneca said this.

I've been thinking about it today because I read it in one of his letters last night. I think that as you consider your own thoughts from the outside, which is a Stoic skill, you maybe begin to see what Seneca meant.

My brain might think "She doesn't like me." Well, brain, not everyone is going to like you. Did you do anything you ought to regret in her presence? "No, I don't think so." Then it's on her to tell you if something is bothering her, and then it's on you to decide if that's valid. People have hangups, brain. Maybe you remind her of someone who hurt her, or maybe she's unhappy with the world and doesn't like most people... not your problem, though. "Gee, thanks, Stoic self." No problem. That's what I'm here for.

I actually have conversations like that with myself. I didn't used to. Must be Stoic. Or schizophrenic...

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Image, modified by an original by Calidius, is public domain