Voice

Who kills a man kills a reasonable creature, God's image; but he who destroys a good book, kills reason itself...
--John Milton, Aeropagitica

On this day in 1644, John Milton released one of the most important tracts ever published in defense of freedom of the press, the Aeropagitica. His work paved the way for later English thinkers, such as John Locke and John Stuart Mill, to codify freedom of expression as a cornerstone of human rights. For this reason, today we honor Milton and the virtue of Voice.

The tale of Milton’s Aeropagitica makes the most “irony-fortified” story I think I have yet posted to TTV; see if you agree...

Most remember Milton as the poet who penned Paradise Lost. Later, though, he also served as a civil servant under Oliver Cromwell, leader of the Parliamentarians in their battle against the English monarchy (a war they eventually won, with the execution of Charles I and elevation of Cromwell from general to Lord Protector of Britain). The Parliament had just banished the Star Chamber, a sort of secret court that had been used unjustly by the monarchy against its enemies.

First taste of irony: On the heels of eliminating a tool of the Royalists’ abuse of power, the Parliamentarians then passed their own abusive law, the Licensing Order of 1643, which would allow the government to block the publishing of any book they wished (and was intended to prevent pro-monarchy pamphlets from being printed and circulated). Despite being on the side of the Parliamentarians, Milton dreaded the prospect of such censorship, and he spoke up about it in Aeropagitica. (Note, second nibble of irony.) (Third dose: Milton named his pamphlet after a similar text written in ancient Athens by Isocrates, who was defending the existence of Athens’ own version of the Star Chamber as a pro-democratic institution. That court met on the “Hill of Ares,” or Aeropagus.)

After writing the Aeropagitica, Milton later became a chief propagandist for the Parliamentarians, and even censored pro-Royalist and Catholic works. (Fourth ironic dollop.) He apparently justified this since the Parliamentarians, in theory, supported a more representative form of government, a republic, in contrast to the absolutism of a monarchy. (That Cromwell as “Lord Protector” abused power as much as any monarch that preceded him fuels the irony. Serving number five, by the way...)

Dose six: Although we now see freedom of the press as an anchor of a modern, secular world order, Milton cited Divine authority as expressed in the Christian Gospel of John (8:32: “...the truth shall set you free”) as justification for his views. (We have now exceeded the USDA recommended daily allowance of irony. We hope that you enjoyed your meal and will dine with us again at TTV.)

So, in Aeropagitica we have a proclamation of the importance of a free press penned by someone whose own support of such freedom varied depending on exactly whose book we were pressing. This reminds me of the discussion back at Zoongide’ewin, and the observation that the complicated human personages who serve as roosts for the virtues do not need to be perfect vessels--in fact, cannot be.

We may find variability in Milton’s own support of the freedom of Voice--an aggregate of the virtues of Open-Mindedness, Leadership, and Bravery, themselves tracing to the root virtues of Wisdom, Justice, and Courage. Yet this in no way diminishes the Worth of this virtue. As a basic principle of virtue ethics, we regard their Light as having Independence from the lamps through which they shine.  

Take a moment to consider a few of the books whose ideas have informed your personal development, be they spritual texts, academic tomes, or even just entertainment. Savor the freedom that allowed the ideas that shaped you to have Voice in those documents. And recall the moments when your own commitment to freedom of the press has wavered. (Fox News, anyone?)

Meanwhile, TTV will offer free bloodletting to anyone suffering from irony-overload after reading this essay.

May we see the gates of Voice, and perhaps make a home there. 

Dependability: Requiem for a Man Named Smith

He might not have meant something to somebody else, but he was like family to us. He meant something to us.
--Tyrone Dayhoff, about Neil Alan Smith

Here on TTV, we have explored virtues as they shine through the lives of renowned scholars, authors, saints, mystics, popes, military greats, and famous athletes. But really, as I explained back at Zoongide’ewin, it is my contention on this journey that, just as within every tree we’re bound to catch sight of at least one or two birds, likewise the life of virtually any person can give us a glimpse of great qualities.

So on that note, today I dedicate our essay to Neil Alan Smith, who died on Sept. 18 in St. Petersburg, Florida, at the age of 48 after a hit-and-run accident on his bicycle. Mr. Smith was not a famous naval hero, a Sufi mystic, nor an athletic champion. He was a dishwasher who lived in a trailer park. And after an initial obituary ran in the local paper, some bored commentator posted that a man working as a dishwasher at the age of 48 was “better off dead.”

The staff of the St. Petersburg Times, horrified at this indifference to the value of every life, wrote an in-depth commentary about Neil’s life, here. And no, they didn’t turn up any forgotten acts of dramatic heroism or “greatness” in Neil’s life: no babies rescued from a burning building, no trove of money quietly saved up for bequeathing to a worthy cause, no hidden cache of breathtaking works of art.

What they found was Dependability--a man who carried out his job without complaint, year in and year out for over a decade, with no raise above minimum wage in all that time. His ten-year bonus was to filch a pair of beers from the restaurant fridge. And yet despite his Poverty (or, perhaps, because of it), he showed Generosity: On one occasion, when his landlord thought the electricity would be cut off from her property, he gave her more than enough money to keep the power on, and insisted she keep the extra.  

When I contemplate the scant details of his life, other virtues occur to me, such as the Jainist virtue of Saucha (Contentment); the Lakotan virtue of Unsilciyapi (Humbleness); the Jewish middot (virtue) of Miyut Sichah (Cutting out small talk). It makes me wonder what more might have been found in the life of Neil Alan Smith, had there been time and attention to notice.

As a doctor, sometimes I feel the entire world eventually makes it way to my doorstep--or, rather, my exam room. I have auscultated the hearts of wealthy celebrities who jet on high, and of humble folk who cleave to the ground--and everyone in-between. As above, so below: The virtues can be found in every heart, in every life, even in the animals.

The Divine calls out to us like a heartbeat, and it never, ever stops. Every face you see, every hand you shake is a portal to Her. Moment after moment we can hear this Calling, if we give that pulse the attention of Samā, of Worshipful Listening. Believe this. Count on it. Depend upon it.

May we see the gates of Dependability, and perhaps make a home there.

And Neil Alan Smith, rest in peace, and know that we honor you.

Genauigkeit

In the landscape of extinction, precision is next to godliness.
--Samuel Beckett, Irish playwright

According to legend, it was on November 18, 1307, that Swiss folk hero William Tell famously shot an apple off his son’s head. While the story, and even the life of the hero himself, may be apocryphal, many Swiss people point to this defiant act as the symbolic beginning of the modern Swiss nation. The story also illustrates the consummate Swiss virtue of Genauigkeit (Precision).

Genauigkeit (pronounced Geh-NO-izh-KITE) has at least 20 different translations into English, including Faithfulness, Shrewdness, Veracity--even rigidity. All of these nuances apply to the Genauigkeit of William Tell, but if we wanted to sum it up in just one word, Precision I think captures his nature best. Like their famed watches, renowned for supreme Accuracy in keeping time, the Swiss people themselves have a reputation for prizing exactitude, which may explain the popularity of the apple story.

There’s a wonderful (ahem) telling of the Tell story here, but for those who want the short version: William Tell, who lived in the region of Uri in central Switzerland, was known as an expert shot with the crossbow. At the time, his country had been taken over by invaders from Austria, whose local governor, a man named Gessler, had hung his hat on a pole in the central square of Tell’s village. Gessler demanded all the townsfolk bow before the hat. One day Tell passed by the hat with his 6-year-old son Walter without bowing to it, and an Austrian soldier arrested him. Tell refused to bow to the hat, and so the guard brought him before the governor.

Gessler, who disliked Tell, decided that as punishment, Tell would have to shoot an apple off Walter’s head, or else the Austrians would execute both of them. He promised Tell his freedom if he successfully made the shot. In front of a crowd of anxious villagers, Tell split the apple with a shot of miraculous Precision.

At that moment, Gessler noticed Tell had a second bolt in his jacket, and asked him why. Tell replied that if his shot had killed his son, he would have turned the crossbow on Gessler himself. An angry Gessler then went back on his word and took Tell captive. Tell later escaped, and in the fracas that followed killed Gessler with the second crossbow bolt. Tell then led a rebellion of the natives against the invaders. Legend has it this eventually led to the formation of the Swiss Confederacy, forerunner to the modern-day Swiss state.

It is not solely in the Excellence of his archer’s aim in which we find Tell’s Genauigkeit--a word that sparkles like a diamond, with so many facets. If we look carefully (applying Genauigkeit to Genauigkeit), we can find the ultimate virtues treasured here on TTV: Self-Knowledge and Self-Possession. Tell’s Clarity in understanding himself gave him the Strength to know he could not bow down to a literally empty-headed symbol of oppression. He knew his limits. Likewise, when confronted by the governor about the second bolt, Tell showed Truthfulness in revealing his will to exact Justice upon Gessler should the shot have killed his son.

The quotation from Beckett I used above invites a deeper contemplation of the meaning of Genauigkeit. What I think Beckett means, and what the story shows, is that when we face a threat of annihilation of that which we love, we must at those times summon Strength to our side, a Resistance that does not buckle (a Light aspect of rigidity, which normally I would not categorize as a virtue). In Genauigkeit, in knowing the Truth of who and what we are and are not, we find this Power, which can translate into action. We become the captains of our souls.

While William Tell may have had a natural talent for archery, undoubtedly the Discipline of hours of practice allowed him to pull off the feat of the apple-shot. Likewise, regular return to our meditation practices, of honing our blade, gives us spiritual Genauigkeit. What practices or techniques do you use regularly in order to cultivate such Genauigkeit? When you face a horrific challenge that threatens what you care about, can you summon the Courage to nock your arrow and believe your aim will be true?

May we see the gates of Genauigkeit, and perhaps make a home there.

Zoongide'ewin

A mother is always a mother, and even if I have my faults, if she can see I am true, she will be full of love for me. 
--Louis David Riel 

When I started Ten Thousand Virtues, I compared the study of the virtues to a journey, such as Marco Polo’s travels along the Silk Road. We could liken each virtue to a fantastic oasis, discovered just beyond the next mountain or the next bend in the river, with its own fascinating character, much like the Invisible Cities described by Polo to Kublai Khan in Calvino’s wonderful book.

Another metaphor might be to consider virtue studies like bird-watching: When we walk the forest, we don’t expect any one tree to host an example of every avian species. Rather, in each tree we may easily spot one or two birds roosting, and with Patience eventually find a few others hiding out. With Abiding, we may discover a trove.

Likewise, each human being shows a mixture of qualities. That is being human, after all. And it is on that note that I bring today the story of Canadian folk hero Louis Riel, and a contemplation of the virtue Zoongide’ewin (Strong Heart), a value of the Anishinaabe-speaking tribes of North America.

“Mixture” is a term to keep in mind as we contemplate the life of Louis David Riel, who led a people of mixed European and First Nations blood, the Métis. As a reflection of their mixed heritage, the Métis speak a dialect called Michif that mixes French, English, and Anishinaabe (also known as Ojibwe or Chippewa). Riel’s story mixes fact and speculation; his life, triumph and trauma; his ending, madness and honor; his legacy, villainy or heroism, depending on whom you ask. He died in a governmental hangman’s noose, 125 years ago today.

For Americans who tend to think of our northern neighbor as quietly peaceable, the bloodshed of the consolidation of the Canadian frontier makes for surprising reading. In the late 1860s, while the U.S. mopped up from the Civil War, Canada added the western provinces to its confederacy. In Manitoba, Riel, the oldest son of a large, close-knit family of Métis Catholics, led the French-speaking majority, who faced a Canadian government survey that threatened their land rights. The result was the Red River Rebellion.

Tensions between local leaders and the pro-Canadian confederates surged when Riel’s provisional government hastily tried and executed an agitator named Thomas Scott. In the aftermath, Manitoba joined the Canadian confederacy, but provisional government leaders like Riel faced charges for the execution. Riel fled to the U.S. and spent the following years moving back and forth across the border as political winds changed. It was during this period that he had a mental breakdown of a particularly religious flavor: Riel believed God had chosen him to protect the Métis from harm resulting from the English-speaking confederacy’s expansion across the frontier.

After a final surge of resistance in Saskatchewan during the North-West Rebellion, Riel surrendered to Canadian forces on May 15, 1885. At a trial for treason, his attorney urged him to take an insanity plea, but Riel refused. A jury of six English-speaking protestants found him guilty and urged mercy, but the judge assigned Riel death by hanging. Riel had two small children, and witnessed the death of his third infant son while he awaited his execution. During the 4 months he awaited his death, he made peace with Catholic clergy he’d alienated during his rebellion and wrote a memoir.

Riel’s martyrdom had lasting effects on relations between French- and English-speaking Canadians--in fact, Québécois nationalists embrace him as a symbol of resistance to this day. The domination of the Liberal party in Canadian politics throughout the 20th century can be traced in part to repercussions of Riel’s execution. The complicated meaning of his life led one author to remark,

Riel is regarded by some as a heroic freedom fighter who stood up for his people in the face of racist bigotry, and those who question his sanity still view him as an essentially honourable figure. Riel nevertheless presents an enigma, although as historian J.M.S. Careless has observed, it is possible that Riel was both a murderer and a hero. [Emphasis mine.]

So: A mixture. And that brings us to Zoongide’ewin, or Strong Heart. A simple translation of this virtue would be “Courage,” but Zoongide’ewin means more than this. A better choice would be Integrity. As the scholars of the White Earth Tribal and Community College explain,

When we have a strong heart, we are able to face challenges with courage and integrity. A person living the value of zoongide´ewin acknowledges her own weaknesses and faces them with a strong heart.

Riel’s leadership of the Métis, especially during his last stand, when they faced overwhelming military force, of course demonstrates the bravery of Zoongide’ewin. But to me, much more telling was his refusal to reject or disown his actions by attributing them to insanity. Riel said simply, “Life, without the dignity of an intelligent being, is not worth having.” By embracing all of who he was and what he had done, without excuses, without defensive justifications, he showed Strong Heart.

During his last statement prior to walking to the hangman’s noose, Riel blessed both his own legal team and those of the government. An excerpt from his statement especially moved me:

The North West is also my mother, it is my mother country... I am sure that my mother country will not kill me [any] more than my mother did forty years ago when I came into the world, because a mother is always a mother, and even if I have my faults, if she can see I am true, she will be full of love for me.

When we examine our own actions, may we acknowledge all of what we are and have done, even those things that may have been rash or destructive. The path to our own liberation lies in embracing all of who we are, Dark and Light, the wholeness of the Truth, without flinching, but rather with the love of a mother for her all-too-human children.

Louis David Riel, we embrace all of you today.

May we see the gates of Zoongide’ewin, and perhaps make a home there.

Jollity

 
For he’s a jolly good fellow, which nobody can deny.
--traditional English song

A few weeks ago, we visited the Roman virtue of Auctoritas, the virtue of what Starhawk calls “Power-from-Within,” versus “Power-Over.” Today we will revisit this exploration of Power, via an archetype I call the “Happy King.” Tomorrow marks the 90th anniversary of the first complete public performance of The Planets, an orchestral suite written by British composer Gustav Holst. Each of the seven pieces (Holst skipped Earth, and Pluto had not yet been discovered when he wrote the suite) represents a planet of the solar system. They all have their merits, but it is Jupiter, Bringer of Jollity that has had the widest acclaim, and gives our virtue for today.

Holst was the son of a Swedish father and an English mother, both also musicians. As a teen he entered the Royal College of Music, and from the beginning hoped for a career as a composer. He had an enthusiasm for teaching music, however, and used that talent to pay the bills while writing and playing trombone in an opera band. Ironically, while The Planets brought him worldwide acclaim almost overnight, Holst expressed exasperation at the popularity of the pieces, feeling they overshadowed his dozens of other works.

Intriguingly, Holst took inspiration for this symphony not from astronomical observations, but from the astrological associations of the planets. (This again explains why he left out Earth.) Holst apparently had some talent reading his friends’ horoscopes. Per astrologers, the planet Jupiter--named for the Roman King of the Gods--has a certain influence on those born under it. Their jovial temperament shows virtues like Optimism, Expansion, and Bouyancy. Thus, the Jupiter suite attempts to exude this character. (Bouyancy may also apply to Jupiter from an astronomical perspective; its density is so low that, if we could find an ocean large enough to hold it, Jupiter indeed would float!)

Flautist Beverly Whitehead explains the strengths of the Jupiter suite:

It has an overall air of grand importance, and the jolly feel is highlighted by the C major key in which it is written. The whole movement sounds exhilarating, bringing the sense of joy that was in the composer's mind when he wrote it. The glorious ballad section in the middle suggests a typically English scene, and has inspired many patriotic hymns in both England and America.

For me, the jovian virtue of Jollity teaches an important lesson about the Greatness that results when we mix Power with Humor. Jupiter as Sky-God could exude a scary, martial, patriarchal, almost oppressive energy. But in Holst, we see Jove’s influence as true Magnanimity: Jupiter as bringer of Abundance, as provider. Not the imperiousness and madness of King Lear, but rather the Warmth and Affability of, say, Mr. Cunningham from Happy Days: 

Again, when we choose to exercise our power, we can do so from a place of insecurity, as did King Lear--in which case, we will threaten and rage madly to get our way. If, on the other hand, we tap into our Power-from-Within, we mix that Strength with traits like the Wiccan virtue of Mirth, or the Roman personal virtue of Comitas (Ease). These are signs of true Self-Possession--the Penultimate Virtue here at TTV (Self-Knowledge being the Ultimate.) When we channel from our creative fires, we radiate Reassurance and Providence. Our constellation of friends, family, and co-workers, not to mention perfect strangers, bask in our glow.

How do we tap into this? I think it starts with daily meditative practice, with Disciplina and Worshipful Listening (Samā).

Personally, I confess I have a longstanding soft spot for Jupiter, whose Magnificence and Joy make a heady combination. While I’m not an astrologer, for the past few weeks I have marked the Big Guy’s presence in the southwestern sky. The Bringer of Jollity appears as an especially bright star chasing the Moon across the starry heavens.

Tonight, sit outside after the sun goes down for a moment and wave hello to the Happy King as he sails across the sky. Consider how you, too, can shine Jollity down on your world.

May we see the gates of Jollity, and perhaps make a home there.