On Excellence, Soul, and Why Rhetoric Matters: A Southern Reverie with Ancient Roots
Let me tell you something the Greeks knew and most folks forgot: arete ain't just a pretty word—it’s the whole point of being alive. It means excellence, sugar. Not just win-the-trophy excellence, but deep, holy, purpose-filled living. The kind where your soul hums like a well-tuned fiddle because you're doing exactly what you were made to do.
Socrates, bless his philosophical heart, said if you want to be happy, you gotta be good. Not Instagram-good. Not charity-auction good. But honest-to-God virtuous. Justice, wisdom, courage, self-control—that’s the real gold. And he didn’t say you might be happy with those things. He said you will be. Guaranteed. Like biscuits rise when the oven’s hot.
Now Aristotle came along with a bit more science to his soul. He said we humans are creatures of reason, and we’re at our best when we live like it. Eudaimonia—that’s their fancy word for deep well-being—isn’t just a feeling. It’s a way of being, a life soaked in purpose and lit by virtue. He believed that to flourish, you can’t just sit around with good intentions. You’ve got to act right. Be useful. Sharpen your gifts. Live with aim.
Epicurus? He thought pleasure was the goal, but not the kind you find at the bottom of a margarita. He meant the kind of peace that comes from knowing you’re living clean, living true. He saw virtue as the road that leads to joy, even if it isn’t always paved.
Now the Stoics—they were tough as a two-dollar steak. They said virtue is the only thing that matters. Storms may come, fortunes may fall, but if your soul’s steady, you’re rich in all the ways that count. They didn’t care much for gold or beauty or power. They believed your worth was in your choices, your grit, your grace under pressure. And honey, that’s something the modern world needs a heap more of.
As for Viktor Frankl—he came much later, but he spoke like a man who’d walked through fire - because he did. He said life’s meaning isn’t handed to you—it’s carved out in how you suffer, how you love, and how you create. Even when all else is stripped away, you still get to choose your attitude. That, my dear, is soul-deep freedom.
And then there’s rhetoric. Lord, don’t get me started. It used to be the art of persuasion, of moving folks with your words, not manipulating them. Aristotle called it “the ability to see what will persuade in any given situation,” and Cicero—now he believed a real orator needed a good heart, not just a silver tongue.
But rhetoric’s a double-edged pie cutter. It can serve the truth or dress up a lie in pearls and perfume. The Greeks feared that slick talkers could lead the crowd straight off a cliff—and history’s shown they weren’t wrong.
Still, in the right hands, words can build a republic, mend a marriage, or light a fire in a lonely heart.
So what’s the takeaway?
Live with purpose. Speak with care. Know your worth ain't in your wallet or your waistline, but in your will. Be excellent—not for applause, but because that’s how your soul sings. And when the world tries to sell you shortcuts or sweet-sounding lies, remember this: truth has roots, and virtue never goes out of style.