Stoicism In A Time Of Madness

My most recent travelogue is delayed. I’ve been talking with the ghost of my dog. At least I’m better off than Hamlet talking to ghosts before he goes off the deep end. Life could be worse.

I mention this because it’s hard to chill out and write about motorcycles while society is shitting its own pants. I’m trying but I’m about to fail… forgive me.

I notice the more explicitly whackdoodle things get; what with flakes gathering in the streets screaming and shouting and breaking shit and various other antics, the more sane people withdraw. Do you notice that? Crazy behavior is repellent to us. We find madness inherently distasteful.

Pondering this, I stumbled across a nice quote from Marcus Arelius. I’d heard it before but it seems to sum up the bullshit of midsummer 2020.

First, and in case you’re not a nerd, here’s some background. Arelius is the last of what’s called the “Five Good Roman Emperors”. He spent a lot of time contemplating and discussing stoicism… which is roughly the art of being a proper man. Or, as I like to say, “how to not be a fuck up”.

If (like me) you’re hindered by the useless and incomplete history education that America worked so hard to produce, it’ll help to know that Arelius came after Caesar smacked the Roman Republic silly. Caesar took the awesome but flawed Roman Republic and created the fearsome but doomed Roman Empire. If you’re not exactly sure what “Republic” means, don’t worry. Virtually every reporter who oozes onscreen to discuss the electoral college between now and Thanksgiving won’t have a clue either.

Anyway, Caesar actually did what ninnies have spent the last 3 years projecting on Trump. Here’s a hint, it wasn’t subtle. If Trump were Caesar, the swamp he wishes to drain would fuckin’ know. You don’t get a free ride from every damn piece of governance when you’re messing with the real deal. Trump ‘aint Caesar and that’s clear because noodle armed soyboy losers walk around screaming projected fantasies about how Trump personally raped their housecat; and the President puts up with that shit.

Anyway, the Empire did well for a while but eventually climbed up its own ass. In the end, a series of comically bad leaders and Game of Thrones asshattery drove the Roman Empire into the ground… hard. They killed it dead dead dead. Many Kings and nobles and Popes tried to restart the machine, but it was in pieces and could not be fixed.

None of this is small potatoes. The fall of Rome and a subsequent thousand years of war, deprivation, and plague puts nitwits in Minneapolis, Chicago, or Seattle throwing bricks into perspective doesn’t it? You’ll note that the brick-throwers talk a big game but come running to the hospital with modern medicine and a functioning electrical grid should they break a leg. They don’t want a different world, they just want to have a fit in the world made by their superiors.

Back to the story, Arelius was a genuine bad ass and a dangerous mighty Emperor but he was also not a fuck up (the latter is key!). Most of those that came after were complete fucking losers. The world sorely missed the wisdom of Arelius as it suffered a millennia of thugs and monsters after he was gone.

Arelius had this to say:

“The best revenge is to be unlike him who performed the injury.”

Damn! That’s just what I was thinking. Remember how I said we were repelled by madness? I think most of us instinctively wish to be unlike the crazies. The more the nutcases fuck society into the ground, the more the rest of us retreat to boring lifestyles. Being good to our families. Staying out of trouble. Keeping the car repaired, stocking the larder, paying off debts, etc… Keeping your shit together seems absolutely essential when everyone else is off their rocker.

When the freak flags are flying… it’s hip to be square.

There’s another part though. When I see the lunatics running around in the streets they seem… pained. That’s the word I for it. They don’t look happy. They don’t seem fulfilled. I see the hollowness that comes from lack of earned self esteem, lack of self control, lack (for want of a better term) of a properly lived life. The place meant to be filled with religion, or accomplishment, or love… it’s a gaping hole.

Is not every Karen just a miserable cat lady gone to seed? Don’t raving purple haired maniacs look “unwell”. Despite the white hot loathing directed at me and all that I love, my heart aches for them.

While I was contemplating this (and using Google to check the spelling of Arelius) I stumbled across another of his statements. This is one addressed the “hollowness” I’d sensed:

“When another blames you or hates you, or people voice similar criticisms, go to their souls, penetrate inside and see what sort of people they are. You will realize that there is no need to be racked with anxiety that they should hold any particular opinion about you.”

Damn! The man had it figured out. He wouldn’t fret that shitweasels throwing rocks and rending statues hate him. Nor should we. They define themselves by shrieking about imagined other people’s horrible racist, misogynous, evil, greedy, awful ways. They don’t define themselves by their own souls. We can and do define ourselves by our nature and our deeds. Their opinion of us is simply irrelevant.

Captain Stoic of 1840 years ago knew it all along. He had the good sense to write it out for us. I appreciate that.

Good luck folks. Keep on being well. Live wisely. Use the noggin God gave you. As for the rest, if you’re running around the streets like a crack addled toddler… you’re not fooling anybody.

That is all.