This is the twelfth in a series on Franklin’s moral improvement plan, the rest of the posts are available here.
TRANQUILLITY: Be not disturbed at trifles, or at accidents common or unavoidable.
As discussed in more than one earlier post, Epictetus is pretty much the go-to guru on not being disturbed by trifles. Did your favorite beer glass shatter when you dropped it? Hey, that’s what glass does; it breaks. You enjoyed it while you had it, but now it has just started it’s long and inevitable return to its constituent parts. Did you get splashed at the swimming pool? What did you expect? Water gets splashed around at the swimming pool, no big deal. Did your wife or child die? People are mortal; get over it.
Ok, so the death of a family member is more than a trifle. And when Epictetus compares the death of a child to the breaking of a cup, it just doesn’t ring true. Surely nobody is that stoic. At least no mentally healthy person is. (And, as I noted before, there is no reason to think that Epictetus was ever married or fathered any children. So he didn’t really know what it is like to lose a wife or child.)
Seneca, at least, admits that a certain amount of grief is appropriate in the face of death. “Let not the eyes be dry when we have lost a friend, nor let them overflow,” he writes. “We may weep, but we must not wail.” He admits that even this allowance seems harsh, but his reasoning is somewhat more compelling than that of Epictetus. To Seneca, pronounced grief is a false show of affection. Loud wailing is an outward attempt to prove one’s love. However, one can only keep up abject mourning for so long. So if the measure of one’s love for the departed is the extent of his wailing, then even the most bereaved must finally “be over” the loss. True friends, however, will measure their love, not in tears, but in happy memories. Because unlike lamentation, which must eventually exhaust itself, happy memories can go on indefinitely.
Beer of the week: Lagunitas IPA – This California/Chicago IPA is a lovely orange-gold with fluffy white foam. Although there is plenty of hops, it is not excessively bitter. This is a nice malty India pale ale with a hint of tartness in the finish.
Reading for the week: Letter LXIII to Lucilius from Seneca – Another problem that Seneca observes with abject lamentation is that it shows that the loved one was not appreciated enough during his life. It smacks of carelessness to wail over the time that one should have spent with the deceased. After all, shouldn’t we direct all of that emotion toward the friends that are still with us, lest we set up a cycle of waiting until death to give voice to our love?
Question for the week: Are you making the most of the limited time that you have with your friends and family? (Obviously not. Rather, how can you make better use of your time with your friends and family?)
This is the eleventh in a series on Franklin’s moral improvement plan, the rest of the posts are available here.
CLEANLINESS: Tolerate no uncleanliness in body, cloaths, or habitation.
By Moscow, I did not smell very good. That fact is not surprising. After all, I’d been without a shower since Vladivostok, some 5,752 miles away. Hell, I’d been without warm water all that time. But the fact is, the trans-Siberian railway is primarily for people traveling only a fraction of the line. Doing the long-haul is not for those who are overly scrupulous about cleanliness.
Even on less extreme journeys, travel is usually dirty. This is especially true when it is done right. I don’t mind the tiny handprints on my khakis from the macaques or the rust stains on my jeans from my ill-conceived trip across the Hangang. A certain amount of mess shows that one has been doing something interesting.
Perhaps the unavoidable (and enjoyable) filth of travel is the best argument for maintaining a clean house and observing excellent personal grooming when at home. The true interest of travel is the experience of the new and the different. So for the proverbial dusty trail to be enjoyed properly, it must be made to stand in contrast to the dust-free homestead.
Beer of the week: Zombie Dust – Would that the dust in my house were all Zombie Dust! It took a trip across state lines, a wedding, a slumber party, and a very gracious friend for me to get my hands on this coveted pale ale from 3 Floyds. (There are certainly cleaner and easier ways to get my hands on this beer, but that’d be way less fun.) Zombie Dust pours with a frothy head, and smells strongly of tropical fruit. Mango, pineapple, and citrus assault the nose. The beer is quite hoppy, tingling from the time it touches the tip of the tongue until the bitterness catches just a bit in the back of the throat. But as it warms, caramel notes start to emerge and the yeasty sediment makes itself known. Truly, this is an excellent beer.
Reading of the week: Fellow-Passengers by Robert Louis Stevenson – The Scottish author wrote of paddling across Belgium in a canoe, rambling through the French mountains with a donkey, crossing the oceans by steamer, and ultimately settling in Samoa. This chapter is from his book Across the Plains, in which he details his train travels from New York to California. According to Stevenson, the trains crossing this continent smelled “of pure menagerie, only a little sourer, as from men instead of monkeys.”
Question for the week: Franklin’s advice is to “tolerate no uncleanliness”, but such a stark prohibition seems at odds with the moderation advocated in the rest of his moral precepts. How can we reconcile these ideas, especially given the fact that an obsession with cleanliness is manifestly harmful?
This is the tenth in a series on Franklin’s moral improvement plan, the rest of the posts are available here.
MODERATION: Avoid extreams; forbear resenting injuries so much as you think they deserve.
As I noted in an earlier post, Sydney winters never get cold enough for a proper polar bear plunge. As a result, those who want a real winter swim have to be creative. Members of the Bondi Icebergs Club take blocks of ice with them into their beautiful tidal swimming pool. Cold water swimming is meant to be both salubrious and invigorating.
On the other temperature extreme (and on the other side of the world) are the Finns, who take great pride in their scorching hot saunas. There are even competitions (some of which end quite badly) where contestants attempt to sit in the hottest temperature for the longest period. Aside from the dangers associated with doing it competitively, the use of saunas is regarded as healthful and rejuvenating.
How does one reconcile these practices with the general proposition that extremes are harmful? The conclusion, I think, must be that extremes are not dangerous in themselves. A certain amount of extremity pushes the body (or the mind), very much in the way that physical exercise does. What is dangerous about extremes is when they cease to be extreme. Extremes are extraordinary conditions to be endured, and they should not be allowed to become ordinary.
Beer of the week: Pop-Up IPA – A “session” IPA is a tribute to moderation. It is a drink for those who want the flavor of an IPA without the extreme hopping or alcohol level. Unfortunately, I think that Boulevard dialed this beer back a little too much. To be sure, it is a fine beer, but the flavor is not quite as full as I would like. Pop-Up is a cloudy session IPA with a thick, sticky head. The beer’s aroma is dominated by grassy, floral hops. The aftertaste has a hint of pepper.
Reading for the week: Tartuffe, or the Hypocrite by Molière, Act I, Scene VI – “Men,” says one character in this scene, “for the most part, are strange creatures, truly! You never find them keep the golden mean; The limits of good sense, too narrow for them, Must always be passed by, in each direction; They often spoil the noblest things, because They go too far, and push them to extremes.”
Question for the week: Are occasional extremes really good for us, or is that just a justification for indulging in extremes that ought to be avoided.
This is the ninth in a series on Franklin’s moral improvement plan, the rest of the posts are available here.
JUSTICE: Wrong none by doing injuries, or omitting the benefits that are your duty.
According to Herbert Spencer, there is one law from which all other laws spring: survival of the fittest. Every individual ought to benefit to the extent that he is well adapted to his conditions and suffer to the extent that he is ill adapted. Consequently, all behavior that is conducive to survival is just. But this seemingly selfish principle has a number of caveats.
In the first place, the survival of the species is paramount over the survival of the individual. Spencer comes to this conclusion by comparing the ultimate result of the failure to survive. If any given individual (or even a multitude) dies, the species may live on. But extinction of the species necessitates the death of every individual.
One consequence is that adults have an obligation to the children in their family-group. Although adults deserve benefits commensurate to their fitness, infants deserve benefits inversely to their fitness. “Within the family-group most must be given where least is deserved, if desert is measured by worth.” The adults, therefore, subordinate their own good for the good of the infants.
Likewise, in larger society, individuals subordinate their own good, to some extent, for the good of the group. In living together, each individual gains some additional security against evils and some benefits from cooperation. In exchange, individuals must accept a certain amount of restraint, giving up the freedom to act in particular ways that harm or endanger the group. And ultimately, some individuals may even be expected to die for the good of the group.
Although the sacrifice of some individuals appears to be the complete subjugation of the individual to the group, society remains reducible to the survival of the fittest individuals. After all, the species or group or family is merely an abstract aggregate of concrete individuals. As the overall mortality of the society improves with cooperation, individuals live longer. And the longer individuals live, the more time they have for their superior adaptation has to show itself. Each individual, is therefore in a better position than ever to benefit from his superior adaptation or suffer from his inferior adaptation. “And vaguely, if not definitely, this is seen to constitute what is called justice.”
Beer of the week: Strela Cabo Verde – Contract brewing is when a brewer outsources the production of his beer. Pabst, for example, does not actually brew any beer any more; all of their beer is contract brewed. This is also common with “foreign” beers. The Bass that I wrote about in an earlier post was brewed in New York.
Strela is a beer from Cape Verde, off the coast of Africa. However, this bottle was brewed under contract in Belgium. On one hand, I would like to try an actual African beer. On the other, I am skeptical about the quality of African beer and well acquainted with Belgian beers. Unfortunately, this is probably the worst beer I have ever had from Belgium. Strela is a very pale adjunct lager. It smells of corn and tastes… bad. I hope that the stuff that is actually brewed in Cape Verde is better than this.
Reading for the week: Justice by Herbert Spencer – The chapter preceding this selection applies the principles of justice to the animals. Like human society, animal society develops more pronounced justice as the society becomes more complex.
Question for the week: Spencer acknowledges that as societies become more organized, individuals gain more benefits, but individuals also also become more constrained. And in some instances, society may demand more from an individual than he gains by being a member. Is there an inevitable tipping point resulting of the growth of society? Must increased organization always tend to a point where constraint outweighs benefit?