THE SINEWS OF A STOIC PHILOSOPHER

THE SINEWS

OF A STOIC PHILOSOPHER

by Michel Daw

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A poem inspired from Epictetus, Discourses, II.8

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Faithful, modest, and tranquil
With nobility undeterred
A desire undisappointed
And aversions unincurred

Pursuits duly exerted
Assents unerringly made
Resolutions carefully taken
And life embraced unafraid

A Hazardous Life

A Hazardous Life

I have a horror of rest;
Possessions encourage one to indulge in it.
And there is nothing like security
For making one fall asleep.

I like life well enough
To want to live it awake.
And so in the very midst of my riches
I maintain the sensation of a state of precariousness,
By which means I aggravate,
Or at any rate, intensify
My Life.

I will not say I like danger
But I like life to be hazardous.
And I want it to demand at every moment
The whole of my happiness
My courage
My health.

From André Gide's L'immoraliste (1902)/The immoralist (1953)

Stoic Poetry

As you may (or may not know, and may or may not care) I am an amateur poet (some would consider me a rank amateur). I recently came across a truly horrible little book, where the author had attempted to convert passages of Marcus Aurelius into verse. Of course, I immediately decided to join him (well, not immediately). While reading Seneca (Loeb edition - R. Gummere trans.), I came across a passage that had a very poetic feel to it. So, of course, since I am not one to leave well enough alone, I have expressed the passage in Sonnet (modified Petrarchan, if anyone cares).

What follows is the passage then the poem.

"And so we should love all of our dear ones, both those whom, by the condition of birth, we hope will survive us, and those whose own most just prayer is to pass on before us, but always with the thought that we have no promise that we may keep them forever -nay, no promise even that we may keep them for long. Often must the heart be reminded - it must remember that loved objects will surely leave, nay,  are already leaving. Take whatever Fortune gives, remembering that it has no voucher. Snatch the pleasures your children bring, let your children, in turn, find delight in you, and drain joy to the dregs without delay; no promise has been given you for this night - nay, I have offered too long a respite! - no promise has been given even for this hour."

SENECA: TO MARCIA ON CONSOLATION, x. 3, 4

Fortune's Gifts

So we should love those dearest to our heart,
Both young and old, whose lives we would prolong.
No hope have we that we will never part, 

None even that we keep them very long.

How often must the heart reminded be
that those we love will surely someday leave?
They are already leaving, don't you see?
For Fortune’s gifts no voucher we receive.

So drain the cup of joy without delay,
No promise has been given for this night.
Nay, I have offered too long a respite!
No promise has been given for this day!

Snatch now the pleasures that your children bring
That through delight in you their hearts can sing!

If

IF you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:


If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;
If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:
...


If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings - nor lose the common touch,
if neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And - which is more - you'll be a Man, my son!


From If by Rudyard Kipling


View this poem recited by Harvey Keitel.

My Creed

To live as gently as I can;
To be, no matter where, a man;
To take what comes of good or ill
And cling to faith and honor still;
To do my best, and let that stand
The record of my brain and hand;
And then, should failure come to me,
Still work and hope for victory.

To have no secret place wherein
I stoop unseen to shame or sin;
To be the same when I'm alone
As when my every deed is known;
To live undaunted, unafraid
Of any step that I have made;
To be without pretense or sham
Exactly what men think I am.

From My Creed - Edgar Albert Guest

View a video of Ben Kingsley reciting the above.