We only have a few more weeks by the firepit, and this week should come with a disclaimer. As this is being posted, the second-largest wildfire in the state's history is raging across the Texas Panhandle. Nothing in this post is meant to diminish the severity of that crisis for the communities impacted.
One of the most important observations about the universe contained within the firepit is the impermanence of it all. From the moment the fire starts, nothing remains the same inside of the cauldron, and eventually, every single fire becomes nothing more than a pile of ash - a memory of what used to be.
Knowing the fire is only temporary and that every moment is fleeting allows us to better appreciate the moment for what it is.
In 313 BC, a wealthy merchant named Zeno was on a voyage from Phoenicia to Peiraieus (the port of Athens) with a cargo of purple dye. The ship sank, and Zeno lost nearly everything he had. At that time, there was no insurance, so when theft or loss occurred, it was life-altering, and Zeno went from wealthy to impoverished in a matter of moments.
Surviving the shipwreck, Zeno washed up in Athens, facing what must have been a full-scale identity crisis. All that he had was gone. Like any person would, he turned to....a bookstore. While in the bookstore, he read the works of Socrates and then asked the shop owner where he could meet someone like Socrates to help him establish this new life. At that moment, the Cynic philosopher Crates of Thebes happened to walk by, and the bookseller pointed to Crates, suggesting that Zeno follow him. Zeno studied under Crates, who was known for his ascetic lifestyle and philosophical teachings emphasizing virtue and self-sufficiency.
Cynics (where we get our modern word "cynical") believed in living simply, embracing poverty, and distrusting society because of the frivolous pursuits of luxury and other unnecessary elements that ultimately led to corruption.
Zeno immersed himself in a simplistic lifestyle but kept his taste for engagement with society. He believed in leading a virtuous life but applied logic and reason to observations of nature in everyday life. This led to the creation of a philosophical view called Stoicism - where we get our modern word "stoic," meaning someone who endures hardship without visible distress.
One of the most famous subscribers to Zeno's philosophy was Marcus Aurelius, a Roman Emperor and Stoic philosopher who wrote meditations on the transient nature of life and the importance of living by nature, accepting life's ephemeral nature.
Nearly everyone around my age or older had our first exposure to Marcus Aurelius and his promotion of Stoicism in the popular movie Gladiator. Early in the film, the main character, Maximus, played by Russel Crowe, tells his troops, "If you find yourself alone, riding in green fields with the sun on your face, do not be troubled. For you are in Elysium, and you're already dead!" As a commander and loyal follower of the Emperor, Maximus inspired his troops not by encouraging their strength and vigor but by reminding them of their mortality. It was as if to say, "We are all going to die eventually, so if it happens in this fight, so be it."
The real Marcus Aurelius wrote, "Death smiles at us all, but all a man can do is smile back." In other words, much of life is outside of our control, so we must accept our fate - in the good times and the bad- and focus only on what we can control.
Not every trauma results in death. In fact, the most difficult negative experiences are the ones that we, like Zeno, have to learn to live with the consequences of. The Stoics would tell us that we have a responsibility to control what we can and let life take its course where we can't. When we look back on every incident, did we conduct ourselves in a way that guided us to the best possible outcome? Did we treat others with respect? Did we pursue just and right behavior? Knowing that we did all we could to arrive at the least painful outcome is the only way to accept the harm as unavoidable truly.
If this notion sounds familiar, but this is the first time you've heard of Stoicism, you may have heard The Serenity Prayer. "God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change; Courage to change the things I can; And wisdom to know the difference."
At some point, the fire will burn out. The warmth and pleasantries brought by the flames will be gone. We acknowledged the balance of life last week. This week, we recognize that for every beginning, there is an end. Our ability to look forward to the end with a smile is directly impacted by how we utilize the time between those two finite points.
If I knew the fire would be gone, did I maximize the potential of the fire while I had it? When I am standing over a pile of cold ash at the end of the night, did I soak up the heat while it lasted? Did I make the best s'mores and share them with those that mattered most? Did I look into the flame and receive the lessons it was teaching?
When I reach the end, will I have spent my time worrying about the impending tragedy, or did I capture all the value of the journey?