Perennial Meditations — A Collection of Short Reflections on Wisdom
The Virtuous Path
In this reflection, we explore the path of virtue. Sages throughout history have generally agreed that virtue is the path to the good life. And choosing the way of “virtue lies in our power, and similarly so does vice,” wrote Aristotle in The Nicomachean Ethics.
Although despite the consensus on virtue and the good life, embodying a life of virtue is no less challenging.
The Gospel of Matthew advises:
Enter through the narrow gate. For wide is the gate and broad is the road that leads to destruction, and many enter through it. But small is the gate and narrow the road that leads to life, and only a few find it (7:13–14).
Similarly, the Buddha explained: “Bad deeds, and deeds hurtful to ourselves, are easy to do; what is beneficial and good, that is very difficult to do.”
How do we know if we are traveling the virtuous path?
First, the virtuous life is a difficult path and, therefore, will include mistakes along the way. To quote the legendary coach John Wooden, “If you’re not making mistakes, then you’re not doing anything.”
Second, examine your actions against the cardinal virtues of courage, temperance, justice, and wisdom. Marcus Aurelius wrote, if you find anything better than these… it must be an extraordinary thing indeed.
Finally, the life of virtue converges with acts for the common good. Remember these wise words from Seneca: “Wherever there is a human being, there is an opportunity for a kindness.”
We all must choose whether or not we walk the virtuous path. “No one saves us but ourselves,” according to the Buddha. “No one can, and no one may. We ourselves must walk the path.”
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On True Greatness
In this reflection, we turn to Friedrich Nietzsche (1844–1900) for wisdom. Nietzsche wrestled with how to live despite the hardships and challenges of life. He ultimately came to adopt the approach he called Amor Fati (translated from Latin love of one’s fate).
Nietzsche explained,
My formula for greatness in a human being is Amor Fati: that one wants nothing to be different, not forward, not backward, not in all eternity. Not merely bear what is necessary, still less conceal it… but love it.
The Amor Fati approach doesn’t attempt to erase the past but instead accepts what has occurred, the good and the bad, the mistaken and the wise, resulting in a perspective that is all-embracing gratitude bordering on a kind of enthusiastic affection.
The Roman Emperor Marcus Aurelius followed a similar approach. In his journal known today as Meditations, he wrote: “The blazing fire makes flames and brightness out of everything thrown into it.”
How would your life change if you didn’t “merely bear” the so-called undesirable aspects of life?
To quote the former slave turned Stoic philosopher Epictetus,
Don’t hope that events will turn out the way you want, welcome events whichever way they happen: this is the path to peace.
For Nietzsche, greatness is the unconditional love of life in the face of both setbacks and success.
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On the Beginner’s Mind
We turn to Shunryu Suzuki (author of the classic Zen Mind Beginner’s Mind) for wisdom in this reflection. In Japan, the phrase shoshin means the beginner’s mind, and it is the goal of Zen practice.
The Zen Monk Shunryu Suzuki wrote,
In the beginner’s mind, there are many possibilities, but in the expert’s there are few.
The beginner’s mind is an empty mind that is ready for and open to everything while being absent of self-centered thoughts of achievement. The beginner’s mind is our starting point; it is our original mind.
By being true to ourselves, Suzuki explained, we realize our interconnection with everyone and everything. Our mind becomes vast and in compassion with the world. This mindset allows you to notice yourself and to be in wonder with it. The beginner’s mind is ready to accept, doubt, and be open to the uncertainty of life.
The beginner’s mind is a practice of studying ourselves: “To study ourselves is to forget ourselves,” wrote the philosopher Dogen. The method of studying ourselves is an infinite path that Suzuki describes as the single-minded way:
The single-minded way is one railway track thousands of miles long. The sights may change, but there is no beginning or end to the track. No starting point, no goal, and nothing to attain.
By cultivating a beginner’s mind, we broaden our perspective and begin to see “there are many possibilities.”
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On Letting Go
In this reflection, we turn to The Bhagavad Gita (ancient Hindu scripture) for wisdom. The idea of letting go exists in many spiritual and philosophical traditions.
The Gita provides a narrative dialogue between Arjuna (a warrior) and Krishna (his charioteer) on dharma (or sacred duty). One of the critical lessons in the text comes from Krishna to Arjuna on letting go:
You have a right to your actions, but never to your actions’ fruits. Act for the action’s sake. And do not be attached to inaction.
Letting go of a traditional idea of success may seem a little odd at first glance. The psychologist Viktor Frankl advised: “Don’t aim at success. The more you aim at it and make it a target, the more you will miss it. For success, like happiness, cannot be pursued; it must ensue, and it only does so as the unintended side effect of one’s dedication to a cause greater than oneself….”
The Stoics also agree with the idea of letting go of the outcome. Your actions are within your control, but the “fruit” of your efforts are not.
In more recent times, Mother Teresa dedicated her entire life to serving the sick and the poor in Calcutta, India. A reporter once questioned Mother Teresa about the lack of success in reducing poverty.
Mother Teresa responded,
We are not called to be successful; we are called to be faithful.
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On Virtue and Vice
In this reflection, we turn to Marcus Aurelius (121–180) for wisdom on virtue and vice. The Stoics followed Socrates in the idea that virtue was knowledge and vice, ignorance. When people do right, it stems from virtue, and they go wrong from ignorance and false beliefs.
In Meditations, Marcus Aurelius wrote,
At the start of the day, tell yourself: I shall meet people who are ungrateful, abusive, treacherous, malicious, and selfish. In every case, they’ve got like this because of their ignorance of good and bad. The passage continues with Marcus expressing that he has seen the nature of the good and bad and knows what is morally right from wrong. He understands the true nature of the wrongdoer himself and knows that he’s related to me. None of them can harm or infect me with immorality., nor can I become angry with someone related to me. Because we were born to work together.
The fundamental tenet of Stoicism is the only truly good is virtue, and the only truly bad is vice. Realizing the true nature of good and evil can help us lead lives aligned with the world's reality.
As Seneca wrote,
We are bad people living among bad people, and only one thing can calm us — we must agree to go easy on one another.
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On Changing the World
In this reflection, we turn to the philosopher Soren Kierkegaard (1813–1855) for wisdom. For most of us, our initial thoughts on change lead us to look externally. However, Kierkegaard and many others advise us to look internally.
According to Kierkegaard,
The majority of people are subjective toward themselves and objective toward all others . . . but the real task is, in fact, to be objective toward oneself and subjective toward all others.
Kierkegaard identified a perennial human tendency that shows up countless times in philosophy and spiritual traditions. The Gospel of Matthew (7:3–4) asks: “Why do you look at the speck of sawdust in your brother’s eye and pay no attention to the plank in your own eye? How can you say to your brother, ‘Let me take the speck out of your eye,’ when all the time there is a plank in your own eye?”
The poet Rumi put it this way,
Yesterday I was clever so I wanted to change the world, today I am wise so I changed myself.
The idea of change starting with yourself is not only because it’s what is within our control. It is because “What we change inwardly changes our outer reality,” wrote Plutarch.
Mother Teresa tells us — “I alone cannot change the world, but I can cast a stone across the water to create many ripples.” We create an infinite set of ripples that extend to our families, friends, communities, and the world by focusing on changing ourselves.
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On Good and Bad Luck
In this reflection, we look to Marcus Aurelius’s journal, known today as Meditations for wisdom. Picture for a moment Marcus (the Emperor of Rome) writing the following passage:
Be like a headland: Marcus wrote, the waves beat against it continuously, but it stands fast, and around it boiling water dies down. ‘It’s my rotten luck that this happened to me.’ On the contrary: ‘It’s my good luck that, although this happened to me, I still feel no distress, since I’m unbruised by the present and unconcerned about the future.’ What happened could have happened to anyone, but not everyone could have carried on without letting it distress them. So why regard the incident as a piece of bad luck rather than seeing your avoidance of distress as a piece of good luck?
Well, you know from your studies what it is that human nature wants. Can what happened to you stop you from being fair, high-minded, moderate, conscientious, unhasty, honest, moral, self-reliant, and so on — from possessing all the qualities that, when present, enable a person’s nature to be fulfilled?
So then, whenever something happens that might cause you distress, remember to rely on this principle: this is not bad luck, but bearing it valiantly is good luck.
Not only are the challenges we face opportunities to respond virtuously they are also impermanent. The adage “this too shall pass” reveals itself countless times throughout history. On September 30, 1859, Abraham Lincoln said to a crowd at the Wisconsin State Fair: “An Eastern monarch once charged wise men to invent a sentiment to be ever in view, and which should be true and appropriate in all times and situations. They ultimately presented the words, ‘And this, too, shall pass.’ How much it expresses! How humbling in the hour of pride; how consoling in the depths of affliction!”
Similarly, Marcus wrote,
Time is a river of events, and its current is strong: no sooner does something heave into view than it is swept away and something else is being carried past instead, only to be swept away.
When something challenging occurs, we often think we know what it means long term. In truth, we can’t see the way life will unfold.
The next time you find yourself in distress, remind yourself of the opportunity and the timeless adage “this too shall pass.”
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On Sitting Quietly
In this reflection, we turn to the philosopher Blaise Pascal (1623–1662) for wisdom. What initially comes to mind when you think of sitting quietly in a room alone?
Pascal writes that the inability to sit quietly alone in a room is the source of all humanity’s problems: of boredom and anxiety as defining traits of the human condition; of the machinelike power of habit and the gnawing noise of human pride. But most of all, it is Pascal’s thought that the human being is a reed, “the weakest of nature,” that each of us can be wiped away by a vapor — or an airborne droplet — that grips me.
Pascal reminds us. We are weak, fragile, vulnerable, dependent creatures. But — and this is the refreshing twist — our wretchedness is our greatness. The universe can crush us; a virus can destroy us. But the universe knows none of this, and the virus does not care. We, by contrast, know that we are mortal. Our dignity consists in this thought. “Let us strive,” Pascal says, “to think well.”
We don’t generally think of our weaknesses as strengths. The unpredictable nature of our lives is what provides wonder, joy, and even heartache. We know that without fear, there is no courage; without darkness, there is no light. The paradox of solitude is that we can realize a deeper connection with ourselves and the world simply by learning to sit quietly.
To quote the philosopher Seneca:
The primary indication of a well-ordered mind is a person’s ability to remain in one place and linger in their own company.
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What is Up to Us?
How do we know what is truly within our control? In this reflection, we turn to Epictetus in the Enchiridion to be our guide:
There are things that are within our power, and there are things that are beyond our power. Within our power are opinion, aim, desire, aversion, and, in one word, whatever affairs are our own. Beyond our power are body, property, reputation, office, and, in one word, whatever are not properly our own affairs. Now the things within our power are by nature free, unrestricted, unhindered; but those beyond our power are weak, dependent, restricted, alien.
This principle is often referred to as the dichotomy of control and is central in Stoic philosophy and many other traditions. For example, we see the concept in the Serenity Prayer by the theologian Reinhold Niebuhr: “God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can, and wisdom to know the difference.”
There is great wisdom in knowing what is truly up to us. Initially, it may feel that there are many things outside of our control — which is true. However, over time, we realize there is more than a lifetime of work within our control.
As Marcus Aurelius put it,
The fruit of this life is a good character and acts for the common good.
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Image credit: Wanderer Above the Fog