Category Archives: Philosophy

It was one of the most controversial poems ever written.

It is a remarkable, philosophical epic written in beautiful language, yet it is also much more. On the Nature of Things by Lucretius was a key text for the many followers of Epicureanism in the Roman Empire, and its rediscovery in the Renaissance was a major cultural event. The core aim of the poem, however, is to help people to live a better and more tranquil life, something which is can still do today. But before we get to the poem, who was Lucretius exactly?

Titus Lucretius Carus (99-55 BC) was a Roman philosopher and poet, who most likely came from an aristocratic family. On the Nature of Things (or De rerum natura in Latin) is the only work of his to survive. While almost nothing is known for certain about his life, it appears that he was either the friend or client of Gaius Memmis, a powerful politician. Based on evidence from the text, this relationship may have cooled over time. According to St. Jerome (who hated the philosophy of Lucretius) he went insane because he drank a love-potion, and committed suicide. There is reason to doubt the veracity of this.

We do know, however, that Lucretius was an Epicurean. That is to say, he was a follower of Epicurus, the 4^th century BC Greek thinker. Epicurus taught that the aim of philosophy was ataraxia (or peace of mind) and that this was only possible for people if they did not fear the gods. This was a radical concept in Epicurus’ time, and has been controversial across history.

Epicurus was a materialist and believed that the world was made of atoms. He taught that taking pleasure in moderation was the highest good. Because of this, Epicurus’ work has often been misrepresented. He was unfairly condemned as a simple hedonist uninterested in ethical issues. In reality, he believed that if people lived rationally and did not fear the gods, society would be transformed for the better, and individuals would be happier.

The poem is divided into seven books written in hexameters, the metre of epic poems like the Iliad and the Odyssey. Book I introduces’ the main themes: it defines atoms and presents the laws that govern the universe. The second book expands on Lucretius’ ideas on atoms, which are based on Democritus’ atomic theory, which Epicurus adopted. It also deals with the mind, senses, and the soul. Lucretius argues that they are produced by movement of special atoms. In this section, Lucretius also developed the idea of the ’swerve’. Whereas Epicurus’ atomic theory would seem to preclude free will, Lucretius argued that atoms ‘swerved’ when they deflect each other, and that this allows for a measure of free will.

In the third book, Lucretius deals with the mind-body relationship, and how they interact with the spirit. Lucretius argues that because our soul is only formed by atoms, we are not immortal and therefore should not fear an afterlife or the wrath of the gods. Death itself is not to be feared either, as we are only atoms. Lucretius believed that this knowledge would allow people to have peace of mind. To that end, Lucretius quotes Epicurus’ words, “Death is nothing to us”.

Book Four examines how the senses work and explains Epicurean ideas on sex, while the fifth book presents an overview of Epicurean cosmology. This has the planet earth as the centre of the universe. It also presents a similarly unscientific but very poetic account of the origin of the world and the development of culture and civilization

Book Six is also dedicated to explaining natural phenomena and discussing the great plague of Athens (430 BC). The Book concludes abruptly, and many topics that Lucretius stated he was going to investigate were not discussed. Many scholars believe that Lucretius may have died and did not complete the epic.

Epicureanism came under attack from Christians, who reviled the philosophy, as they deemed it immoral and dangerous. Lucretius was then forgotten until the Renaissance. One surviving copy of the epic was discovered in an Italian monastery, and On the Nature of Things then went on to become enormously influential on the Renaissance. Crucially, the poem encouraged many to accept a more secular worldview.

Right until modern times, Christians were discouraged from reading the work. Yet many writers were inspired by Lucretius’ poem, including the French essayist Montaigne, and the English dramatist Christopher Marlowe. Even after two millennia, On the Nature of Things is still a powerful and influential work of literature.

There’s something poignant about last words. A final flourish made all the more beautiful because we know there’s no more wisdom to come. A reminder that all things come to an end. Eugene Delacroix, the 19th century romantic artist, certainly thought so when he painted ‘Last Words of the Emperor Marcus Aurelius’. The piece is exactly what you would expect when you picture the final utterances of someone so storied as Marcus Aurelius. Attendants and family clamouring around the deathbed with Commodus, Marcus’ son, prominently featured. 

Interestingly, Aurelius and Delacroix had more in common than perhaps either would have realised.  Aside from being a great admirer of the Stoics, Eugene Delacroix is also considered by some to be one of the last ‘old masters’ of European painting, while Marcus Aurelius is considered to be the last of the ‘good Emperors’ who oversaw the Pax Romana. This was a ‘Golden Age’ of Rome’s majesty, a time of unparalleled consolidation, development, peace and prosperity. These two men unwittingly oversaw the end of an era in their respective fields.

So, Marcus Aurelius was a Roman Emperor, and last in a line of greats. But what were his last words exactly, and why do they still resonate with us nearly 2,000 years after his death? Well, first, to better understand his words we must better understand the man.

Originally born Marcus Annius Verus, he received the name Marcus Aelius Aurelius Verus when he was adopted by Antoninus Pius, the adopted son of the then emperor Hadrian (of Hadrian’s Wall fame). This was a very common practice amongst the upper and senatorial classes of ancient Rome, as Roman inheritance laws did not favour women, and so it was important to guarantee familial legacy and succession through adoption. Of course, these adoptions were not random. Marcus was born to a family of significant political renown, with his grandfather serving as Consul and even Prefect of Rome, and his aunt, Annia Galeria Faustina, was spouse of Antoninus Pius, Marcus’ eventual adoptive father. It is safe to say, Marcus was groomed to rule.

After Antoninus’ death, Marcus would be raised to the status of co-emperor with his adoptive brother Lucius Verus, where he would receive his imperial name; Marcus Aurelius Antoninus Augustus. It’s important at this point to note that it was at Marcus’ insistence that Lucius was appointed co-emperor. Furthermore, Lucius does not appear to have had much of a political support base, and so he could have tried to have this potential rival removed and ruled alone. The fact that Marcus insisted upon this joint rule with his adoptive brother speaks volumes to the quality of his character. For eight years the pair served as co-emperors, until Lucius died of a stroke while returning with Marcus from campaigning in the Danube region.  

Despite a successful reign, Marcus Aurelius is best known today for his philosophical writings. Throughout his reign as emperor Marcus wrote what have come to be known as his Meditations, a series of personal journals detailing Marcus’ innermost thoughts and musings. An avid student of philosophy throughout his life and particularly of the Stoic philosopher Epictetus, Marcus’ journals show him to have been an incredibly introspective man, grappling with the heavy weight of his office, whilst being acutely aware of the transient nature of life. From writings such as “You have power over your mind – not outside events. Realise this, and you will find strength.” it is clear that, like any of us, the circumstances of his life impacted Marcus as he tried to find his way through the challenges he faced. 

Though it is not clear that these journals were ever meant to be shared with anyone, the collection is now one of the most popular philosophical texts around, thanks to a relatively recent resurgence in popularity as so many of us seek the wisdom of the ancients to help us navigate an increasingly uncertain future. Marcus’ Meditations have proven to be full of wisdom that transcends race, class, and time. Like many of us, Marcus was grappling with his purpose in life, even as he held one of the most powerful positions in the world. In fact, I think because we know these are personal journals, notes to himself, they resonate with us all the more. Even one of the most powerful men alive, for all his wealth, status, and success, grappled with the same issues we do today.  

So, what of his last words? Well, to that I ask; which ones? Should we consider his last words to be the last thing he spoke aloud, or the last thing he put to paper? We have records of both. Usually, we would only consider the former in such a discussion, but given the lasting impact of Marcus’ writing, I think you will find his written words even more compelling. 

According to Cassius Dio, a Roman historian and senator, the last spoken words of Marcus Aurelius as he lay dying were “Go to the rising sun; I am already setting.”. To this day there is still some uncertainty around exactly what he meant. Was the rising sun Marcus’ own son and heir, Commodus? Given what we know of Commodus’ turbulent reign this may seem unlikely, but in truth Marcus did everything he could to groom his son to follow in his footsteps. Indeed, Cassius Dio even writes that Marcus put Commodus under armed guard just before his death to ensure none could accuse him of having a hand in it. It is only through hindsight that we know Commodus proved to be an unworthy successor. 

Donald Robertson, the American author and historian, has a different, and fascinating, take on Marcus’ last spoken words. He makes note of several references within Marcus’ Meditations of comparisons between wisdom and sunlight where he considers the mind as the sun, and wisdom and virtue as sunlight. Marcus felt that a wise mind casts out its virtues to illuminate the world just as the sun’s rays fall upon the Earth. His last words then, could be considered a call to put faith in wisdom and virtue, and find one who exudes these virtues to lead Rome.

Alternatively, it may have a more simple meaning. When the day is done, we look on to our plans for tomorrow; when Marcus was gone, he wished for his successors not to tarry but to move on to a new day, and new plans for the Empire. Ultimately, we may never know. 

So, those were Marcus’ spoken words, but what of his final writing? I find the final entry to his Meditations to be a much more impactful and fitting epilogue to Marcus’ life. His final entry reads:

When talking about the ‘great city’ Marcus is referring to the world as a whole, and all the wonders within, before going on to muse about his looming exit. With his usual introspective reflection he considers the inefficacy of being upset by the natural process of dying. He underlines the importance of acceptance, and leaving with grace, rather than railing against the end. Ultimately, this is so much of what we expect from one of the most famous Stoic philosophers to have ever lived; an acceptance of one’s circumstances. 

All things come to an end eventually, whether they be as insignificant as an article we’ve enjoyed, or as significant as our time on Earth, but we can look to the wisdom of those past and take solace in their own courage in facing these ends when they arrive. There is no benefit in raging against the dying of the light, it will end all the same. Better, in fact, to take these things in our stride, and accept the facts of life as they are. Like Eugene Delacroix, I too am a great admirer of Marcus Aurelius, and the impact of his life, death, and final words are as keen now as they were in 1844, and in 180. 

The influence of Plato on western philosophy has been immense; some of his key thoughts are encapsulated in the Allegory of the Cave. This presents some of his key philosophical ideas on the nature of truth, reality and even society. It is essential for understanding the Athenian thinker’s concepts which are still as relevant today as they were over two thousand years ago.

To understand Plato’s Allegory, it is first necessary to grasp some of his major ideas. In his masterpiece, the Republic, he outlines his theory of reality. He proposed that there are two worlds. There is the world of the senses that we know, which is always in flux, and unreliable. Then there was a second world; a timeless and unchanging world of eternal ideas or forms. What we call ‘truth’ is knowledge of these forms or ideas, which are the models for all that we perceive in the physical realm.  This world of Ideas is the ‘real’ world. According to Plato we can know the Forms by the practice of reasoning and philosophy.

Plato frequently used parables and allegories to communicate his arguments and to make points. The Allegory of the Cave, which appears in the Republic, was written by Plato to develop his ideas on reality and knowledge. It was designed to show the dichotomy between opinion and belief, and the real and the unreal. The story is told in the form of a dialogue between Socrates and Plato’s brother Glaucon.  

In the allegory, Plato has Socrates narrate that there were a number of prisoners chained together in a cave for a great period of time. There is a fire behind them, and between the fire and the captives are people carrying objects. The flames cast shadows on the walls before the prisoners who think that they are real.  So, the prisoners mistakes shadow-play for reality.  One day one of the prisoners’ escapes, and see the fire and realizes that what he understood to be real was only shadows.

He then explores the world outside the cave, and understands the nature of reality for the first time.  The prisoner realizes that the other chained prisoners need to know this, and that this would encourage them to escape the cave. On his return to the cave, the prisoner was half-blind because his eyes were not used to the sunlight. None of the prisoners would believe him and now think that he is blind. They refuse to try and leave the cave, and continue to believe that the shadows that they see is reality. In the dialogue, Plato has Socrates state that if the chained prisoners were freed, they would kill their liberators.

Socrates, who is really only speaking the ideas of Plato, explains the allegory to Glaucon.  The cave and its shadows are the world of the sense, the fire is the sun, and the external world is the realm of Ideas. Most people are only aware of the shadows and not the real world. This is because they assume knowledge of the senses, and not the forms. Most people live in ignorance as a result. The escape of the prisoner from the darkness to the outside world reflects the rise of the soul from the sensible realm to the that of the Ideas, which is where truth resides. Like the prisoner, those who see the Forms will reject the old view of reality and want to know more about the truth, which can only be known intellectually. The allegory shows the two-fold nature of Plato’s view of reality. It also argues that everyone can know the truth, like the escaped prisoner, and become wise, if they only turn their mind to the Forms. It also shows, however, that enlightenment is challenging, as seen in the escaped prisoner’s problems with the chained men in the cave. This is because the majority are in error, like the chained prisoners, and are hostile to the wise who have seen the real world because they contradict popular beliefs.

For Plato, only those who know the Forms know the truth and should be leaders. Because of their knowledge, they understand goodness and abhor the immoral. As a result, they have a duty to help their fellows who are still in ignorance. Those who only know the shadows (sensible world) are the majority of people and are ignorant and irrational.  Those who have seen the Forms are wise and have knowledge of the goods. Plato believes that the rule of  Philosophers is the best form of government.  Because most people are ignorant, they are not fit to be involved in politics. This idea has been criticized as undemocratic as it argues that only the few should rule. Many commentators see in the allegory allusions to Socrates and how he was driven to his death by the Athenians. Socrates, like the prisoner who tried to tell the truth and urged people to change but was not believed and attacked instead. Several scholars have interpreted the Allegory as saying that those who know the truth will suffer for it like Socrates, because the minds of the majority are only directed at the unreal.

In the allegory, Plato presents many of his most profound and influential ideas. He used the story to illustrate the two-fold nature of reality, the nature of truth, belief, and opinion. The Athenian philosopher shows that people do not want to know the real and be free. Plato  uses his arguments to justify rule by the wise or philosophers. He also demonstrates that enlightenment was hard and that the wise often suffer if they try and help others. 

Plato (2000). The Republic. Harmondsworth: Penguin.

Juge, Carole. “The Road to the Sun They Cannot See: Plato’s Allegory of the Cave, Oblivion, and Guidance in Cormac McCarthy’s ‘The Road’.” The Cormac McCarthy Journal, vol. 7, no. 1, 2009, pp. 16-30

If you’re anything like me, I’m sure you’ll have noticed the bookshelves of your local store positively groaning with all manner of self-help books; stylish tomes offering a route to peacefulness and serenity. It’s no surprise that the pressures of our modern life, particularly stressed by the ongoing difficulties of the pandemic, are driving many to search for techniques and approaches that might offer them some peace in these trying times. 

What’s particularly interesting is how two different philosophies that have seen a resurgence of interest in the Western world both arrived at such similar conclusions for how to live a happy life, despite being separated by hundreds of years and thousands of miles. I’m speaking of course about Buddhism and Stoicism. The convergent evolution of the two outlooks, despite the vastly different environments in which they developed, has equipped adherents of each with remarkably similar approaches on how to overcome the challenges we all face in our lives. In fact, certain aspects are so similar that some historians have even deigned to theorise that perhaps there was some exchange of ideas between the forefathers of each ideology, although this idea has not been widely accepted. The similarities are more than likely a simple quirk of history. 

Stoicism was originally known as ‘Zenoism’; named for its founder, Zeno of Citium. Zeno was very wealthy and operated as a merchant until his ship was wrecked on a trading journey. He survived and travelled to Athens, where he ultimately came under the tutelage of the Cynic philosopher Crates of Thebes, before finally developing his own philosophical ideas which he went on to share with others. Interestingly, the name of the philosophy was changed to prevent the teachings becoming a cult of personality. Instead, the philosophy adopted the name of where it was preached, at the Stoa Poikile, a public hall in Athens.

Stoicism is an eminently practical philosophy focused on how to live a good life and free oneself from emotional burdens. Stoics believe that we can free ourselves from the effect of the external world and live a good life by living in accordance with the four virtues: courage, temperance, justice, and wisdom. The central thrust of the philosophy has always hinged around accepting life for what it is, and living in the moment, as a cure for the woes of the human condition. Suffering is merely a perception, the Stoics say, and that by changing our perceptions we can change our outlook. Indeed, a key goal of any aspiring Stoic is to develop an internal understanding of control; that by understanding what is within our control we can better accept those things that are not. Epictetus teaches us as much, ‘The more we value things outside our control, the less control we have.’ 

Modern Buddhism was founded by a man called Siddhartha Gautama, who lived and taught philosophical and spiritual teachings in the region around the border between modern day Nepal and India. Although his life is described in early Buddhist texts, the specific details are somewhat contested; however modern historians do agree that Gautama was a real historical figure. Buddhist texts describe how Gautama was born into aristocracy and raised in a life of immense opulence. Ultimately, however, he cast off these luxuries and spent significant time reflecting and meditating on the nature of life. He gained an understanding of the cycle of birth and rebirth (a common belief of various religions of the region both then and now) and how to free oneself from it. The title, Buddha, can be roughly translated as ‘Enlightened One’. It was granted to Gautama after he spent a significant period of time meditating beneath a tree, wherein he reached a state of enlightenment (or nirvana), and achieved freedom from pain and suffering caused by attachments to the world around him. 

Buddhism is now one of the world’s largest religions, with over 500 million adherents and different sects interpret the teachings of Buddha in different ways. There are, however, some general core ideals. For example, the ultimate goal of adherents of Buddhism is to free themselves from suffering and, like Gautama, to see the nature of reality clearly and to live according to that nature. Buddhists believe in the idea of the four noble truths; existence is suffering, suffering has a cause, there is an end to suffering, and there is a path to the end of suffering.

You see, Buddhists believe that all suffering is ultimately caused by our desires (or trishna) and that these desires generate karma, which fuels the process of samsara or birth and rebirth. Thus, in order to free ourselves from suffering, and the cycle of rebirth, we must reach a state of nirvana or a freedom from attachments and desires. To overcome this suffering and reach nirvana, the Buddhists follow what is called the Eightfold Path; interestingly, this is somewhat similar to the four virtues of Stoicism. It consists of cultivating the ‘right’ understanding, thought, speech, action, livelihood, effort, mindfulness, and concentration. This idea is captured within the teachings of the Buddha, who states “If with a pure mind a person speaks or acts, happiness follows him like a never departing shadow. If with an impure mind a person speaks or acts, suffering follows him like the wheel that follows the foot of an ox.”

Beyond their similar origins, stemming from the experiences of one individual, both Buddhism and Stoicism are practical philosophies and have shown a focus and willingness to open themselves up to all comers. Both are inclusive styles of thought that encourage us to consider our own internal ability to improve our state of mind by focusing upon the one thing we can control; the way in which we engage with the world around us.  By finding happiness within us, we can free ourselves from the ever-changing tides of life; this is the ultimate principle of both Stoicism and Buddhism. Though one key difference worth highlighting is the extent to which each adherent is expected to remove themselves from their attachments. While Buddhists seek to free themselves of all worldly attachments, Stoics believe that some aspects of life (known as preferred indifferents, such as physical health) are acceptable to pursue, provided one does not damage their virtue in the process. 

Buddhism is sometimes considered a bit of a curious religion as it has no deity, so to speak. Buddhists believe that Siddhartha Gautama, the ‘Buddha’, was a real man who was able to free himself from samsara, the cycle of birth and rebirth, through the eightfold path, but do not believe he was, or became, a god. Though Stoicism is not a religion in the way that Buddhism is, it does have a strikingly similar idea embedded within it; the Buddhists have the Buddha, the Stoics have the ‘Sage’. 

The Sage is a person who is completely free from the impact of the world around them. They have achieved the Stoic aim of no longer being impacted by the circumstances of their life, and instead have reached a state of total freedom, living in complete accordance with the four virtues. Sound familiar? This ideal is so rigid and has such a high bar in Stoicism that ancient philosophers were not sure anyone ever had, or ever could, reach that state, though some have argued that Diogenes of Sinope was perhaps a Sage. I believe that Siddhartha Gautama may well fit the Stoic ideal of a Sage as well.

For better or worse, modern society is driving us to look to ancient wisdom to endure the pressures of an unknown and uncertain future. Both Stoicism and Buddhism, so similar in their outlooks, offer practical routes away from the suffering implicit in day-to-day life. If we were all to spend a little more time following the eightfold path, and cultivating the four virtues, we might find that those issues we’ve been grappling with don’t seem quite so severe. While you navigate the challenges of this modern life, remember, ‘A disciplined mind brings happiness.’

“Stranger, you would do good to stay awhile, for here the highest good is pleasure…”

According to Seneca the Younger, these words could be seen at the entrance to the philosopher Epicurus’ garden in Athens. It was a place of seclusion, where, with a small group of friends, Epicurus taught and lived out his philosophy. But what was his philosophy, exactly?

During Epicurus’ life, his teachings grew in popularity, becoming one of the dominant philosophies of the age. He was a polymath. He covered diverse subjects, from ethics to biology. Epicureanism reached its zenith around 70 B.C. While popular in Rome, it faced criticism. Its teachings countered the Roman virtue of piety (pietas), the carrying out of all one’s obligation to the family and the gods, and ancestral custom (mos maiorum). Its emphasis on withdrawal from public life flew in the face of the Roman political system, where patricians were encouraged to follow the ‘ladder of office’ that an aspiring politician was expected to climb, handing out benefits and bribes to friends and clients as they rose.

For some ancient commentators, Epicurus’ views on the gods and the soul were problematic, and they proved the same for Christian scholars, who thought Epicurus’ views heretical. The Epicurean view? Simply put, when we come to a true understanding of the gods, we can conclude that they do not exist, or if they do, that they are indifferent to us. For Epicurus the soul is mortal.   He insists on materialist empiricism and his naturalistic, evolutionary, ideas about the formation of the world and the development of human societies cannot be reconciled with many religious teachings. For his heresy, Epicurus can be found in Dante’s Sixth Circle of Hell.

Bad press from ancient and medieval opponents of the philosophy, and skimming of its basic principles, play a part in the idea that Epicureanism is common hedonism, the self-centred and short-term pursuit of sensual pleasures, regardless of consequences. This reading of Epicurus’ teachings is reductive and misleading.

Epicurus teaches pleasure is the supreme good.  We should seek pleasure to achieve a good and happy life of good spirits (eudaimonia). Genuine pleasure, for Epicurus, involves the elimination of fear and pain. This is achieved by having enough food, a comfortable living situation, tranquil relationships, close friends, and the practice of moderation.

Epicureanism divides pleasure into two kinds. Active pleasure (kinetic pleasure) is felt when satisfying a desire or removing pain. For example, eating when hungry. Static pleasure (katastematic pleasure) comes from contentment or tranquility. For example, feeling full and satisfied after eating. These pleasures manifest in physical and mental forms.  The physical? Freedom from things like hunger, thirst, or ill-health. The mental? Freedom from negative thoughts, like fear and worry.  Freedom from physical disturbance is aponia and liberation from mental disturbance is ataraxia.  Epicurus has time for kinetic pleasures, but they are short-lived, so he places greater emphasis on the benefits of katastematic pleasures, which last longer.

Epicurus differentiated between physical and mental pleasure and pain. Physical pains are fleeting and encompass only the present. Mental pains endure and can encompass the past (like pleasant reminiscences or regretting poor decisions) and the future (like confidence or doubt about what may happen).

Because katastematic pleasures concern the meeting of desires and the relieving of fears, Epicurus clarified and sorted the types of desire we experience by dividing them into three groups: Natural and necessary, natural and unnecessary, and unnatural and unnecessary (the vain desires).

The first is to be sought after, we should be receptive but wary of the second, and the third should be avoided. 

Natural and necessary desires, like the need for food, water, comfortable shelter, and human companionship, are hard to get rid of, but simply satisfied, giving pleasure when they are. They are necessary for life, and for a happy life, we must meet these desires. In satisfying them we reach aponia.

For Epicurus, natural and unnecessary desires, like fine food, designer clothes or sex, are not necessary for life, and are not always easily satisfied. These are kinetically pleasurable; yet they offer a katastematic risk: the greater the indulgence in these pleasures, the more habitual their consumption becomes.  If they are unavailable, we risk losing peace of mind because of an inability to fulfil an inessential desire. Epicurus’ advice is to be open to these desires, but to try to not become used to them.

Unnatural and unnecessary desires are things like a lust for power, wealth and fame, the vain desires. Epicurus teaches us these desires are not natural to human beings.  We are molded by society to want them, they are unnecessary and hard to satisfy, and without natural limits. Think of the person who relentlessly pursues power. No amount of power will satisfy them because it is always possible to get more and when they get more they fear losing it. They gain mental anguish, and the anger and enmity of those around them, who become envious. For Epicurus, these desires are unnecessary and unnatural. They cannot be satisfied, they lead to pain and fear, and they should be avoided.

Epicurus’ advocation of simple living is not to be followed too stringently. He was no puritanical ascetic, denying material possessions and pleasures in favour of spiritual ends, nor was he an insatiable hedonist, pursuing all pleasures regardless of the cost. For Epicurus, sources of pain are to be minimized. The object is not to get rid of all sources of pleasure or all physical possessions. If getting rid of something brings more pain than it alleviates, it is counter-productive in achieving a good and happy life.  Further, most kinetic pleasure is achieved in the process of satisfying our basic needs. Luxuries, though pleasant, bring little additional value. Moderation relative to oneself is the key.

“There is also a limit to simple living, and he who fails to understand this falls into an error as great as that of the man who gives way to extravagance.”

                                                                                    -Epicurus

When people think of the practice of moderation it often takes the form of a bossy and prudish moralism, the directive being not to indulge in ‘bad’ things and behaviours.  For Epicurus, moderation cuts both ways, one can have too much of a pleasurable thing too often and one can have too little not often enough. 

Think of someone at a lavish dinner party, they can drink too much wine and eat too much fine food too quickly, get drunk rapidly, get sick, have to leave friends and leave the party early, miss out on a pleasurable, sociable, evening, and the hangover the next morning brings pain. Epicurus would advise this be avoided. 

On the other hand, they can eat and drink too little too slowly, remain hungry, not experience a pleasurable and longer-lasting katastematic buzz of feeling just full enough and merry, and with that miss the loosening of inhibitions that can lead to fun and interesting conversation. The result is similar, minus the hangover. Epicurus would advise this should be avoided.

The goal is to reach aponia and ataraxia often enough and to make it last long enough so there is a continuous flow of pleasure without intervals of pain, then we can achieve eudaimonia. For Epicurus, on the physical level, finding the middle-ground relative to oneself is a part of reaching a long-lasting state of ataraxia.  The ideal Epicurean dinner party?  These happen frequently: close friends, free from fear and worry, gather. There is enough good food and drink for all, and all partake of it with moderation relative to themselves. Good times! You will notice that the absence of fear and worry make it the ideal Epicurean dinner party.

Satisfying our natural desires is insufficient to reach ataraxia and have atranquil mind.  The removal of mental anguish and worry is a must.  Therefore, for Epicurus, to attain ataraxia we should not fear death or the gods. Not to fear death because we are not conscious of it when it happens, and the gods because it is unlikely that they pay attention to human affairs. The Roman poet Lucretius quotes Epicurus:

“Death is nothing to us.  When we exist, death is not; and when death exists, we are not.  All sensation and consciousness ends with death and therefore in death there is neither pleasure nor pain. The fear of death arises from the belief that in death, there is awareness.”

                                                                                         

Marcus Aurelius was arguably one of the greatest Roman emperors.  He is also the author of one of the primary Stoic texts, the Meditations.  As far as scholars can tell, it was intended as a private journal, in which he recorded his observations about the people around him, as well as advice to himself on how to deal with those people. 

For someone curious about what it means to behave in a Stoical manner, Book One of the Meditations is essential reading. In just a few pages, Marcus tells us what he has learned from the various mentors he has been blessed with in the course of his life.

One of these mentors was Stoic philosopher Maximus, who had mastered, Marcus says, “the art of being humorous in an agreeable way.”  From him, Marcus learned the importance of maintaining “cheerfulness in all circumstances, as well as in illness; and a just admixture in the moral character of sweetness and dignity, and to do what was set before me without complaining.”   So much for the common belief that the Stoics were glum, pessimistic, emotionless individuals!  This was a man, says Marcus,  about whom “everybody believed that in all that he did he never had any bad intention.”

From Catulus, another Stoic philosopher, Marcus learned not just to love his children but to love them “truly.”  He also acquired useful strategies for dealing with other people.  He learned, for example, that when a friend unjustly blamed him of something, he should not get angry but should instead try to restore that friend to “his usual disposition.”  Along similar lines, the Stoic philosopher Rusticus taught him that when someone insulted him or wronged him, he should “be easily disposed to be pacified and reconciled, as soon as they have shown a readiness to be reconciled.”  If you can’t tolerate the occasional vexatious behavior of friends, you probably don’t have any!

From Diognetus, the philosopher who introduced him to Stoicism, Marcus learned not to busy himself about “trifling things.”

From an unnamed tutor—he refers to this individual as his “governor”—Marcus learned “endurance of labor, and to want little, and to work with my own hands, and not to meddle with other people’s affairs, and not to be ready to listen to slander.”

From the philosopher Sextus, he learned “to look carefully after the interests of friends, and to tolerate ignorant persons, and those who form opinions without consideration.”  Sextus, he tells us, “never showed anger or any other passion, but was entirely free from passion.”  This makes Sextus sound like a wooden being, but this apparently wasn’t the case, inasmuch as Marcus also describes him as being “most affectionate.”

Although Sextus possessed considerable knowledge, he did not display it in an ostentatious manner, a trait that Marcus thought was admirable.  Along similar lines, Marcus appreciated the subtle but effective manner in which the scholar Alexander corrected the speech of those he encountered.  If they uttered “a barbarous or solecistic or strange-sounding expression,” Alexander would not mock them; he instead attempted “dexterously to introduce the very expression which ought to have been used,” so the person could learn the correct usage without having been chided for misusing language.

Marcus’s mentors also taught him that, besides not flaunting his own knowledge, he should not begrudge others their knowledge.  He notes that Antoninus Pius—who was both Marcus’s adoptive father and emperor of Rome just ahead of Marcus—was “most ready to give way without envy to those who possessed any particular faculty, such as that of eloquence or knowledge of the law or of morals, or of anything else; and he gave them his help, that each might enjoy reputation according to his deserts

From the philosopher Alexander, who was a Platonist rather than a Stoic, Marcus learned not to form the habit of telling people that he had no time for leisure, or of continually excusing neglect of loved ones by claiming that he had important business to attend to.

One last comment is in order: it was the practice of Stoicism that led Marcus to actively seek out mentors.  A Stoic takes his life to be a work in progress, so he is grateful for any insights other people can provide him.  Most people don’t seek mentors, for the simple reason that they don’t think they have any important lessons left to learn.