Prudence

Prudence.

In a twist, I went to a real dictionary site for a definition today. Mirriam-Webster defines Prudence this way:

Main Entry: pru·dence

Pronunciation:\ˈprü-d^ən(t)s\

Function: noun

Etymology:Middle English, from Anglo-French, from Latin prudentia, alteration of providentia — more at providence

Date:14th century

1 : the ability to govern and discipline oneself by the use of reason

2 : sagacity or shrewdness in the management of affairs

3 : skill and good judgment in the use of resources

4 : caution or circumspection as to danger or risk

I would be much happier discussing the Beatles' classic "Dear Prudence" than trying to get my brain and my keyboard around the concept of Prudence. I have no earthly idea how to "govern and discipline oneself by the use of reason."

No clue. I have an addictive personality. I have never had a handle on the concept of self discipline or moderation. Reason does not enter into the equation. Shrewd? Isn't that a little mouse-like rodent thing? The one with the pointy nose? No? Well, damn.

I know there are people out there who can be wise and temperate and moderate and rational and forward-thinking. Me? Well, let's just say I prefer other adjectives to describe myself. At least if you want to be accurate, anyway.

I have always held as my personal motto that anything worth doing is worth overdoing. That comes to all things that are usually not good for us - eating, drinking, sex, everything that stimulates that happy part in the central cortex.

RARELY have I thought ahead and considered what might result from my actions. Take this for an example: A couple weeks ago, I got a note from a friend who was looking for stories of gratitude for something she was working on. Sure, says I. I've got a great story or two about why I am grateful and some of the wonderful people in my life for whom I am grateful, so I wrote a little piece. It was published today in a story on the front page of the state's largest newspaper. My bit was not on page one, but on the jump inside.

Now the reason this woman is my friend is because were are former colleagues, competitors, actually. We spent many a dull (or exciting) evening sitting through town council meetings (those were dull) and board of selectmen meetings (usually more exciting). We were both REPORTERS. We wrote stuff and it got published. Me for one paper, she for another. We commiserated often about people who opened up to us, told us all kinds of things, and then were shocked, shocked! I say! to see their words in print.

And so this morning, there I was, full name and town in bold face, in the paper. Whoopsie. Oh well. Nothing I said there has not been said over and over in front of various other audiences. It just surprised me a little to see it. I had to read through real quick to make sure I hadn't gone overboard on the in-laws. (I hadn't.)

I spoke with my friend this morning and she told me that I was brave for being so honest and opening up like that. (I had said in the piece that I was a lesbian, that I did not speak with my family, that I left the church of my childhood and that my partner is Wiccan. I suppose that qualifies as opening up, particularly when it is done in the newspaper.)

See, this is one of those times when I opened my mouth and said my piece, not caring about who might listen, and who might be offended. I spoke my truth, from the heart, and with honesty. Yes, I do not have any contact with my family of origin, save one relative. No, my partner doesn't speak much to her family either. Yes, we are lesbians, yes I left the Catholic Church, yes I felt unwelcome and un-valued there, so I left, and yet, I have a really awesome aunt, who works for that same church, who loves me for me and ain't that grand? Well, it is all true, including the part about the aunt, who is indeed grand.

And the funniest part about this whole thing? I wrote to my friend who asked for stories, knowing she is a reporter, knowing that she was collecting stories from people to work into a larger story, knowing that it would be published, probably on Thanksgiving, and it never occurred to me that my story might be interesting enough to make it in the paper. I figured I might get some kind of anonymous reference along the lines of "estranged from her family" or something like that. I was completely unreasonable and completely naive in my thinking. ESPECIALLY for a former reporter. This is the stuff I used to do. How dumb was that? Oh well. I had a good laugh at my own expense and my aunt was thrilled that I had written such nice things about her in the paper.

So the best I have to offer is a perfect example of what prudence isn't. What I did with that little piece was not bravery in the baring of my soul to the world. It was dumb shit that turned out OK. Much of what I did as an activist was the same way. It was not bravery that motivated me to hold demonstrations in college or march on things - it just seemed like the right thing to do at the time and I never thought too awfully much about the consequences or the hazards. As often happens in my life, I suddenly find myself out at the end of a limb, surrounded by nothing but air and very far from the ground. Was it bravery that got me so far from the ground? Heavens, no. Focus on a goal, perhaps, if one wanted to be generous, but mostly it was not paying attention to the other stuff in the world.

As with most things in my life, sometimes they work out, and sometimes they don't.

What is prudence? I can give you the dictionary definition listed above. As for the practical application of the last of the seven virtues in this series, I haven't the foggiest idea. Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!

Justice

According to those genius-types over at Wiki, Justice is:

Justice is the concept of moral rightness based on ethics, rationality, law, natural law, fairness and equity. A conception of justice is one of the key features of society. Theories of justice vary greatly, but there is evidence that everyday views of justice can be reconciled with patterned moral preferences (Konow, 2003).[1].

Wiki then goes on to explain the origins of a variety of concepts of Justice, dating back to the ancient Greek and Roman philosophers. About halfway through the reading, I decided that this was beginning to feel like a marathon of term papers and not a blog, which (at least in my experience) involves prose pulled straight from my posterior. It seemed, well, like homework. Huh. Can't have that. Distributorcap NY can do that research - he writes smart stuff all the time. Here, you get what I think, reality-based or otherwise.

Well, it turns out that there are lots of kinds of justice. Like the kind that says that justice means fairness and that everyone is treated the same. Then there is the one that says that justice is a natural law (think John Locke). Hobbes argued that justice was law that was imposed by an authority, and in an article called The Theory of Justice, John Rawls argued "you'll never find (bum bum ba bum) as long as you live, (bum bum bum) someone who loves you (bum!) like I dooooooo....." Oh wait, that's Lou Rawls. Damn. Thought this might be going somewhere fun. John Rawls said something about justice being a social contract that allowed for an impartial distribution of goods. See why I liked Lou better?

My favorite definition comes under the meritocratic version of justice and is attributed to Karl Marx: "from each according to his ability, to each according to his need." Wiki says: "According to contribution-based theories, goods should be distributed to match an individual's contribution to the overall social good."

Now that makes sense to me. To me, justice is about fairness. It is about people who work hard should get rewards and people who slack should freeze outside with the grasshopper while the ants are warm and fed.

Justice seems almost like it is about karma. And natural consequences for our actions. Be nice to people and people will be nice to you. Help others and others will help you. Be a raging shit to others, and they'll probably return the favor. We can only hope something awful is headed toward Crawford, Texas for the next eight years.

Ah, but that is retribution. Is retribution justice or is it revenge? Revenge does not seem like it is terribly just, merely punitive.

Justice, somehow seems like it should not be dealt out by a human hand. It ought to be handed down by nature or the market or fate or whatever god one cares to believe in. On the other hand, I grew up hearing "God's gonna get you for that!" Again, it sounds punitive, not to mention petty.

I guess justice would be for a bad person to understand just what kind of damage they have done sometime before they die (remember, I am not an adherent to the concept or belief in an afterlife. What you get here is what you get.) I would like to know that just once, Dubya will comprehend the grave errors he has made and the lives he has ruined. I would like to know that Alan Greenspan feels guilty, if only for a moment, before he dies.

Justice eludes me sometimes. I would have liked to see my own version of justice for Ronald Reagan, whom I hold personally responsible for the deaths of thousands of my peers from AIDS. My own version of justice would have been for him to linger for another 20 years, coherent for seconds each day, during which time he is nursed and cared for by gay male nurses. Who treat him well. And for those 30-second bursts of lucidity each day, he feels absolutely horrible. I have often said "Dig him up, I'll kick him! I'm not done with that bastard yet!" And it is true. I saw a T-shirt once in Washington, DC. It said "all I want is a cure and all my friends back." Yeah. Justice missed the boat there as far as I can tell.

Who knows, though. He may have had some kind of moment of enlightenment and remorse before he died. It gives me some small comfort to consider it.

But that is the kind of justice that is punitive, and probably not entirely just. I'd like to think that justice is like that of Solomon - wise but merciful.

But nowhere in the descriptions and articles that I read did I see anything about mercy. Is justice its own thing devoid of mercy? Somehow that does not seem right. Justice, I guess is a combination of the golden rule, the old testament and the new testament all rolled into one. Reward for effort, punishment for crimes, and leniency for humanity.

I am glad I am not in charge of meting out justice. I fear I would be too heavy-handed with the retribution part and not kind enough with the dispensation of mercy. I am glad also that whatever powers that do mete out justice thus far have seemed to spare me much of the retribution I have probably earned while doling out some extra credits in the mercy department. Perhaps that is what justice is after all? That those who feel remorse are shown mercy, and those who are unable to recognize their own errors and thus feel remorse, well, I don't know what happens to them.

I thought I knew where I was going with this one when I started and all I have managed to do is talk myself in circles and get lost. So much for research.

Perhaps my conclusion here should be that a definition of justice, much like the concept itself, is elusive.

Virtue

So, being nearly exhausted from that exercise and exploration of the concept of "sin" I have decided to explore the concept of "virtue." Why not? One good mental hernia deserves another, right? Hang on Queenie, here we go...

"Virtue" was something we girls were cautioned to protect at all costs when we were young, but something that we were most eager to be rid of as soon as possible, it seemed. But not too soon. Girls who had "lost their virtue" earlier than high school were looked upon very strangely and with scorn, and those in high school, depending upon what year we were in at the time, were looked upon with jealousy or ridicule or scandal. But that is just one definition of virtue.

I dug out my ratty old Webster's to look up the official definition of "virtue."(Remember Webster's? Big, fat, red book with onion-skin thin pages, lots of columns and teeny, tiny type? Yeah, "dictionaries," they were called. But I digress.) Webster's says that virtue is: "n. 1. moral excellence; goodness; righteousness. 2. conformity of one's life and conduct to moral and ethical principles; uprightness; rectitude. 3. chastity, esp. in a girl or woman: to lose one's virtue." It goes on for a dozen definitions, but you get the picture. Funny how it was the third definition that was first in my mind. Must be stuck in yesterday's post still. Heh.

Traditional Christian texts identify seven basic virtues: Prudence, Justice, Temperance, Courage, Faith, Hope and Love. The first four of these are considered "cardinal virtues," and the latter three "theological virtues," presumably because the first four can be exhibited to others by our behavior, but the last ones can only be shown truly in the heart.

But this is not a term paper. This is my exercise in writing and thinking to see what sense I can make of issues that have confounded theologians and philosophers for centuries. What do I make of virtue? What place does it have in my life and my world? How do I define it, what value do I place on it, and is it of a greater or lesser concern than its black-sheep sibling, sin?

Virtue, as far as I can see, is the fine art of doing the right thing, and for the right reasons. Virtuous behavior has less value to me if it is done before a crowd or an audience. Even Jesus cautioned against public displays of personal virtue, advising people to do good works without recognition.

I suppose Humility, then, would be a virtue, although it is not listed specifically as such. I define humility in much the same way St. Francis of Assissi did in his prayer - to seek to serve rather than be served, to give rather than receive, to help rather than be helped. I try to do that each day, but often my ego and my selfishness get in the way. I like to do good things for others, but often I like to be praised for my efforts. In my mind, that sort of self-seeking wipes out any positive balance on that cosmic balance sheet that I might have made with the good deed itself.

Humility is difficult, and it is very different than humiliation. Humility is a voluntary surrender of the ego, a willful letting go of one's will, as it were. Humiliation is when some one, or some thing, takes your will and your dignity away. Humiliation is what happens when a parent belittles a child in public. Humility is when the parent publicly says "I was wrong" to the child.

Virtue seems impossible to define without including its opposite, vice. How do we talk about generosity without mentioning avarice? How do we discuss gentleness without including violence? Love vs. hate. Faith vs. doubt. It is too large to contemplate in one day, in one essay.

I suppose having virtue can be defined as being ethical, even when no one is looking. Being virtuous means more than being cash-register honest, it means being truthful and kind and considerate. It can also mean NOT rescuing someone who dearly needs to fail in order to grow. It also means not becoming so giving that you lose yourself to others. In order to respect others, I must first respect myself. In order to love others, I must first be capable of receiving love myself. Otherwise, the gift of self is not made as a gift but in an effort to fill a hole within.

For years I tried to practice virtue by helping always, putting myself last and making sure everyone's needs were taken care of before mine. A few years ago, though, I did some heavy-duty 12-step recovery work and began to change some things about myself. I determined that the group of people I had been associating with socially did not think much of me or me of them. I stopped calling them, and they seemed not to notice. That let me know all I needed to know.

I stopped relying upon others for my own self-worth and began to rely upon myself. Is this selfish? I don't think so. Is it indicative of an over-inflated ego? Not at all. We are talking here about self-worth. I have more now than I did then, and I will not allow myself to accept second-class treatment from anyone or any group. Is this virtuous? Not in itself, no. But it allowed me to develop virtuous thought processes and behaviors that were about offering real service and real gifts and not about seeking praise. Now I can do the right thing and not give a damn who notices. Sometimes, anyway. I still struggle with it.

Before I began to treat myself with dignity, I had no clear idea how to treat others that way. Before I was merciful to myself, I had no understanding of how important it was to show mercy to others. Before I began to be kind to myself, I had no real idea what it meant to be kind to others. A gift offered with strings attached is not a gift, it comes at a certain price. A gift offered freely is more valuable than any gold.

So virtue begins at home. "To Thine Own Self Be True" says the coin I get each year on my sobriety date. And it is true. But also on that coin is a triangle with the words "Unity" "Service" and "Recovery." The foundation of the triangle is Recovery, for without it, nothing else is possible. The two sides of the triangle are named Unity and Service. All three are necessary for a new life, and while the emphasis may shift around from time to time in a person's growth and development, all three are required if I am to grow and become the virtuous person I strive to be.

So: virtue. In my mind it means to be the person that my spiritual growth is leading me to be. It means to be good and kind and ethical and merciful, to treat others as I would have them treat me, to do the right thing even when nobody is looking, to show kindness and dignity to everyone I meet, even the ones who irritate me. It is to stand tall when others cower, to speak the unpopular truth, to work for justice and to be honest.

Please may I become all that. May I become that person. May I do the right thing without needing approval or praise. May I intuitively know how to handle situations. May virtue inhabit me and become my nature. This is my goal.