The Last Stoic by Morgan Wade

text.
    “So read some.” Gus said.
    Mark flipped through the pages
randomly and opened the book around the middle.
    “ Quidquid quacunque tandem
ratione pulcrum est …”
    “There is an English translation
on the facing page.”
    “Ok.  I see.  Anything in any
way beautiful derives its beauty from itself, and asks nothing beyond itself. 
Praise is no part of it, for nothing is made better or worse by praise.  This
applies even to the more mundane forms of beauty:  natural objects, for
example, or works of art.  What need has true beauty of anything further? ” 
    Mark did not look up from the
pages.  He felt the length of his neck flushing.
    “That’s lovely,” Chantelle said. 
“I don’t think we’ve read that far yet, I don’t remember it.  My favourite line
is here.” 
    She grabbed the book back, found
a passage that was highlighted on a page with a folded-over corner and read out
loud.  Mark watched her as she read.
    “ Allow your mind freedom from
all other considerations.  This you can do, if you will approach each action as
though it were your last. ”  She handed the book back to Mark open to the
page she’d read from.
    “Nice,” said Gus.  “Meaning?”
    Chantelle beamed.  “Live life to
the fullest.  Live every minute like it’s your last.” 
    Mark continued reading, silently,
the paragraph surrounding the highlighted section. 
    Hour by hour resolve firmly, like
a Roman and a man, to do what comes to hand with correct and natural dignity,
and with humanity, independence, and justice…
    “I’m a Buddhist myself.”  Gus
said.
    Mark glanced up and tried to
reconcile Buddhism with the bawdy stories he had heard Gus telling in the car
on the way over.  He continued to read, listening with one ear.
    …dismissing the wayward thought,
the emotional recoil from the commands of reason, the desire to create an
impression, the admiration of self, the discontent with your lot.
    “I once spent a month at a
Buddhist retreat near Taos, New Mexico.  I was living at a resort in Colorado
at the time, working as a ski instructor, and one day I just snapped.”
    …See how little a man needs to
master, for his days to flow on in quietness and piety….
       “I just burned out.  It’s a
real lifestyle.  Parties every night, lots of booze, wicked weed, babes, and
lots of other stuff.  I mean, it was fucking fantastic in the beginning.  But
it can wear on you.” 
    …Are you distracted by outward
cares?  Then allow yourself a space of quiet, wherein you can add to your
knowledge of the good and learn to curb your restlessness… 
    “Anyway, I just up and left one
day, grabbed my stuff and pffft!”  Gus shot his hand straight out in front of
him and away, to indicate how quickly and completely he had vacated the
resort.  “I didn’t tell anyone I was leaving, not my pals or my girlfriend or
my boss, and I just drifted down the highway for a few days until I got to
Taos.”
    …Guard also against another kind
of error:  the follow of those who weary their days in much business, but lack
any aim on which their whole effort, nay, their whole thought, is focused…
    “I was really fucked up.  I
camped out in a city park in Taos for a few days, not knowing where else to
go.  I’d sit there on a park bench just crying for hours on end.  It was
pathetic.”
    …Were you to live three thousand
years, or even thirty thousand, remember that the sole life which a man can
lose is that which he is living at the moment…
    “On the third night, I was out of
my mind.  I was so stoned that, I was later told, I passed out under the statue
of Kit Carson.”
    And furthermore, that he can have
no other life except the one he loses.  This means that the longest life and
the shortest amount to the same thing…
     “Imagine my surprise when I woke
up in a Buddhist fucking monastery!  These guys had heard about me, found me,
and brought me back to their hideout.”
    …For the passing