Sunday, April 18, 2010

Strength, even in weakness

I've not posted anything in quite some time.  My life has taken a few twists and turns, nothing major, just a little hectic.

I've been spending a significant amount of time reading some historical information on the Ancient Cynics.  As a Stoic, I figure I should delve into the lives of the men and women who set the stage for my philosophical forefathers.  The Cynics, as I've noted in other posts, were very interesting people.  A little crazy, but a lot of guts, courage and wiliness.

I believe that I've realized what primarily attracts me to the Stoic and Cynic lives in particular and the Ancient Greek culture in general.   It's one word: Courage.  The one virtue that is elevated to highest importance throughout the Greek noosphere and praxis is fortitude and its attendant acts.  Just read any Greek work of literature, from Homer to Marcus Aurelius, and you'll see what I'm talking about.  Courage, in all its manifestations, is a common thread through all Ancient Greek culture.

Once I realized this, I was almost immediately reminded of my love for Nietzsche.  What is it about Nietzsche that drew and still draws me to him?  It's his love of Courage.

That's not quite all though.  Those of you who don't know me well or haven't been around me much wouldn't know that I have a very deep love for people with disabilities, whether physical or mental.  To some people, this is simply a matter of 'feeling bad' for them or showing them pity.  I think it's deeper than that.

Nietzsche derides the act of pitying  someone.  Why?  According to him, it steals something from the person.  It takes from them their dignity and automatically lowers them and the pitier as human beings.   That's why for him Christianity is the lowest of religions:  it's the religion of pity of the less fortunate and it lowers the bar for human virtue (I don't hold this view, by the way, at least not to this extreme).  Nietzsche believes that we should elevate Strength and Courage and not Pity and Weakness. (this is a VERY simple analysis, leaving our his notion of the Last Man, Amor Fati, etc).

What about weakness, however?  Is weakness necessarily weak?  This is the gist of what I've been considering.  It is my assertion that the thing that draws me to Nietzsche, Stoicism, Cynicism and Homer is the very same thing that draws me to people with disabilities:  the Courage to BE in the face of the twists and turns of fate.

You see, it's easy to be courageous when you're physically and mentally strong, when you have an army backing you up, when you have a large savings account or a rich family.  None of that takes real courage.  You are simply, in the former situations, assuaging your fears with the security of these things.  No, real Courage is standing firm, moving forward, etc when all the safety nets are gone.  It's having no fear in the face of total destruction.  It's NOT having the natural ability, talent or resources and yet STILL holding your head up high.

I've known many people with disabilities and what strikes me is the amount of courage they show in the face of circumstances that people without disabilities dread the loss of on a daily basis.  Find a 'normal' person who won't admit dread of being in a wheelchair and I'll find you a WallStreet banker devoid of greed.  Good luck.  I would go so far as to say that even the Cynics didn't have as much courage as most of these folks.  To give up something of free will is totally different than having it taken away.  Fate is sweeter when it's self-fate, and harder to swallow when it's imposed.

Anyway, I guess I say all this to simply state that:  Courage can be most evident in the absence of natural strength.  Look for those moments in life when you have no reason to be Courageous and muster all you have to stretch yourself.  Don't provide excuses.  Don't blame others.  Don't bitch and moan about not having enough money, natural talent, or whatever else you're convinced you need.  No, step up, hold your head up, stick our your chest, and simple BE courage.

Take care,

brett