[xtypo_dropcap]E[/xtypo_dropcap]ver since I can remember I have admired those white-bearded old men whom we call philosophers. I admired their patience and wisdom, and their calm because these are qualities I do not naturally possess.
I was born in March so my astrological sign is Aries. In ancient Greek mythology, Aries was the god of war, action, and conquest. People born under the sign of Aries tend to be impulsive and have difficulty accepting others opinions—and I am no exception. All my life I have been unable to think before acting or speaking, and I have been known to blindly refuse to accept other’s opinions when I think they contradict my own.
One day, when I was about 16, an old family friend asked me, “What would you like to have most?”
“Patience,’’ I replied without thinking.
“Then, you should try,” he said.
I remember asking myself, “How can I be like those neat white-bearded men who speak when asked and whenever they speak they say something profound?”
Socrates is such a one; in the first book of Plato’s The Republic, Socrates logically disproves the rudely made assertion of Thrasymachus, a sophist, that justice is the advantage of the stronger. Through a series of skillful questions, Socrates, with patience and eloquence, gets Thrasymachus to admit that his view in fact promotes injustice. Socrates concludes that injustice is not good because it renders a person “incapable of action because he is not at unity with himself.”
Socrates’s wisdom comes twofold, as readers, we naturally try to answer Socrates’s questions through this process, come to see the steps of our own logic, strengthening, or changing our own opinions. We also compare our capacity to act under pressure to Socrates’s genteel manner of dealing with the overbearing Thrasymachus.
The ancient Greeks had a saying, “Wise people conquer their stars.”
One day, it occurred to me that in order to be like the ancient philosophers, I should follow this advice and conquer my own star. With this realization freshly tumbling upon me, the thought of overcoming my impulses seemed an enormous and impossible task.
Then I had one of those small moments of epiphany that when they come, short and powerful, change our thinking irrevocably.
The thought struck me, “I have the Aries element of conquest, which I can use to conquer my own defeatist thinking!”
This thought has given me a guiding beacon ever since, though it has not made conquering my impulses easy.
In my daily life, I still fight many battles, life continually gives me chances to practice thinking before I act and accept the opinions of others. These battles come unexpectedly, woven into the daily denim of contemporary Greek life. We blame one another to escape responsibility, take up arms at the drop of a hat, and lie to guard personal interests.
One could ask, with all these external battles, is it necessary to fight the internal ones as well? That depends on how you want to be. If you want to be like a white-bearded wisdom lover, which I do, you definitely have to conquer your star. Socrates cautioned about the paralysis that comes with allowing injustice, saying injustice is “of such a nature that wherever she takes up her abode, whether in a city, in an army, in a family, or in any other body, that body is … rendered incapable of united action.”
I was born in March so my astrological sign is Aries. In ancient Greek mythology, Aries was the god of war, action, and conquest. People born under the sign of Aries tend to be impulsive and have difficulty accepting others opinions—and I am no exception. All my life I have been unable to think before acting or speaking, and I have been known to blindly refuse to accept other’s opinions when I think they contradict my own.
One day, when I was about 16, an old family friend asked me, “What would you like to have most?”
“Patience,’’ I replied without thinking.
“Then, you should try,” he said.
I remember asking myself, “How can I be like those neat white-bearded men who speak when asked and whenever they speak they say something profound?”
Socrates is such a one; in the first book of Plato’s The Republic, Socrates logically disproves the rudely made assertion of Thrasymachus, a sophist, that justice is the advantage of the stronger. Through a series of skillful questions, Socrates, with patience and eloquence, gets Thrasymachus to admit that his view in fact promotes injustice. Socrates concludes that injustice is not good because it renders a person “incapable of action because he is not at unity with himself.”
Socrates’s wisdom comes twofold, as readers, we naturally try to answer Socrates’s questions through this process, come to see the steps of our own logic, strengthening, or changing our own opinions. We also compare our capacity to act under pressure to Socrates’s genteel manner of dealing with the overbearing Thrasymachus.
The ancient Greeks had a saying, “Wise people conquer their stars.”
One day, it occurred to me that in order to be like the ancient philosophers, I should follow this advice and conquer my own star. With this realization freshly tumbling upon me, the thought of overcoming my impulses seemed an enormous and impossible task.
Then I had one of those small moments of epiphany that when they come, short and powerful, change our thinking irrevocably.
The thought struck me, “I have the Aries element of conquest, which I can use to conquer my own defeatist thinking!”
This thought has given me a guiding beacon ever since, though it has not made conquering my impulses easy.
In my daily life, I still fight many battles, life continually gives me chances to practice thinking before I act and accept the opinions of others. These battles come unexpectedly, woven into the daily denim of contemporary Greek life. We blame one another to escape responsibility, take up arms at the drop of a hat, and lie to guard personal interests.
One could ask, with all these external battles, is it necessary to fight the internal ones as well? That depends on how you want to be. If you want to be like a white-bearded wisdom lover, which I do, you definitely have to conquer your star. Socrates cautioned about the paralysis that comes with allowing injustice, saying injustice is “of such a nature that wherever she takes up her abode, whether in a city, in an army, in a family, or in any other body, that body is … rendered incapable of united action.”
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