Sophrosyne

It takes a great deal to anger me -- still waters run deep and all that. The slings and arrows of daily misfortune do not ruffle my feathers because, for me, human life by its very nature is tragic. We have the capacity to imagine the ideal but often lack the tools (or the fortitude) to acquire it, which leaves a constant sense of futility. I expect things around me to go wrong and for people to lie, cheat, and steal, so I harbor no illusions of finding happiness outside myself. Happiness comes only from within, usually by challenging myself to understand and achieve more. If the world comes crashing down around my ears, that's the world's problem rather than mine.

Such equanimity was prized by the ancient Greeks, who labeled it "sophrosyne" (so-FRA-si-nee). This stands in contrast to "hubris," the proud and follied mindset dominating modern life in the developed world. According to this mindset, one's failure to erupt at every slight, inconvenience, or insult denotes weakness. Yet the exact opposite is true -- what strength is there in enslaving oneself to fleeting and fickle circumstances, blowing to and fro like a leaf in the wind?

The result is comical. I see most of the people around me as weak for letting almost everything get under their skin; they see me as weak for letting almost nothing get under mine. As I've often thought, perhaps I was just born in the wrong century.