Posts by Joshua

Show Notes:

The House of Atreus;

https://www2.classics.upenn.edu/myth/content/tragedy/media/atreustree.gif

Tantalus;

In the third book of Lucretius

Referenced In the 8th Isthmian Ode of Pindar

In the plays of Aeschylus;

Of which the Oresteia contains the following;

The Agamemnon (Text of the play)

[See also The Browning Version]

The Libation Bearers

The Eumenides

Iphigenia;

In Lucretius (he calls her Iphianassa)

And also;

Don's translation and commentary on The Letter to Menoikeus

Nates compilation of The Principle Doctrines

My recording of The Torquatus (with thanks to Cassius)

And finally,

Why we chose the Reid translation

Cassius, let me know if I left anything out!

Happy New Year!

On an evening that asks us to gaze into an uncertain future, the words that come to my mind rise up from an impenetrably deep and distant past. They are the words of Diogenes of Oenoanda, which he inscribed in stone.

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But if we assume it to be possible, then truly the life of the gods will pass to men. For everything will be full of justice and mutual love, and there will come to be no need of fortifications or laws and all the things which we contrive on account of one another. As for the necessities derived from agriculture, since we shall have no slaves at that time (for indeed [we ourselves shall plough] and dig and tend [the plants] and [divert] rivers and watch over [the crops), we shall] ... such things as ... not ... time ..., and such activities, [in accordance with what is] needful, will interrupt the continuity of the [shared] study of philosophy; for [the] farming operations [will provide what our] nature wants.

They are words, in part, that make me shake my head and smile; is there a charming naiveté about them? Yes, perhaps. But there is cold, steely prescience as well---the kind of sound cultural critique, a foresight born of wisdom, that would make the quack oracles of Delphi bristle with envy.

There is also, etched in that ancient stone, a strain of hope; a yearning for a better and wiser age---and that not selfishly, but altruistically wished for. His hope was not that he should live to see it, but that you and I, and those who follow, should live to see such an age; and I like to think we've seen a measure of it.

"That things are not so ill with you and me as they might have been, is half owing to the number who lived faithfully a hidden life, and rest in unvisited tombs."

-George Eliot

I was once reading the comments under a YouTube video when I came across one that I thought very clever. I actually laughed out loud, not something I do often, only to discover upon looking at the name that it was my own comment I was laughing at. This is precisely the kind of thing we can and should expect, in view of our two or three pound mammalian brains. 😄

Cassius , meet Cassius!

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As I interpret the argument, the theory was that if something is perfect then why would it increase? Sort of like adding an extra note or phrase to a musical composition can ruin the "perfect" composition. Hence the limit of pleasure as specified by Epicurus.

I wanted to flesh out my question more fully, particularly in light of what Godfrey has written here.

I can accept the basic argument that the hypothetically "perfect" can want (i.e. lack) nothing. What I cannot quite grasp is why an imperfect being (the human), arising from imperfect beginnings and employing imperfect means, must necessarily have as its aim something perfect. I think that Epicurus' solution to this Pythagorean/Platonic problem is a clever one, but at my current level of understanding I slightly wish that he had cut down that argument instead of trying to supply an adequate solution.

Nevertheless, I'm quite happy to acknowledge that this was actually the course he chose to take. Now I'm trying to better understand why he chose to take it. Since it recurs in almost all of the core texts, he must have felt that it was important.

I suspect that the answer has something to do with his conception of the gods; in paraphrase, 'they do not trouble us because their perfect happiness prevents them from wanting or needing to trouble us'.

Although here too, I confess that I am somewhat wistful about yet another missed chance...

Come to think of it, almost all of the parts of Epicurean Philosophy that are controversial even among Epicureans, from tranquility to his view of the size of the sun, hinge on these two premises of perfection and limitation.

Am I overstating that case? (Probably! )

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"The ability to increase is proof that a thing is imperfect."

In my recent reading of Philebus, I found myself wondering why the interlocutors so readily agreed with Socrates on that point: why is it so necessary for the telos to be perfect, and admitting of no increase? It comes from the same school of thought that held that the Heroic past was Golden or, as we imply by it's grammatical tense, "perfect". John Keats gave ironic expression to this idea in his Ode on a Grecian Urn, where he found the vessel's artistic engraving enchanting, perfect even, but lifeless in its perfection; so still was that still-life that it was still-born.

"Fair youth, beneath the trees, thou canst not leave

Thy song, nor ever can those trees be bare;

Bold Lover, never, never canst thou kiss,

Though winning near the goal yet, do not grieve;

She cannot fade, though thou hast not thy bliss,

For ever wilt thou love, and she be fair!"

-John Keats

I suppose I struggle to agree with Epicurus on this point; all that mindless numb tranquility, all that confusion about pleasure and pain---we could have avoided the whole troubling mess!

But it's questions like these that keep me going back to the texts, though too infrequently.

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I'm waiting impatiently to become a grand-mother, and I have a lot of works to do for this issue that is the most important and happiest issue in my life.

Congratulations, Elli, really. 😁

I wish you and your growing family the very best!

I have only read the introduction so far, Don, and (feeling slightly the sharp nip of Philodemus' words), can feel myself confident in pronouncing my own:

We're lucky to have this.

Thank you for your hard work.

Kind praise, Cassius, but I must turn some of it your way: thank YOU for your work in doing the final editing and publication; and, of course, for the numberless hours you have given in the maintenance of this platform, and in support of that school "which," in the hopeful words of Diogenes Laertius, "while nearly all the others have died out, continues for ever without interruption".

That part is somewhere in that text, but I haven't found where.

Notes:

The Good Place;

The Brazen Bull;

Brazen bull - Wikipedia

en.m.wikipedia.org

Cicero's In Pisonem;

M. Tullius Cicero, Against Piso, section 77

(Somewhere in there he discusses the Brazen Bull)

^ THAT is a more helpful response, thank you Don!

I am far too ignorant of Prof. Warren's work to offer an opinion, Alex, although I understand that he was the editor of the Cambridge Companion to Epicureanism. Don might know something more there...

DeWitt's book is easy to recommend--in fact, I need to read it again myself, as it's been a few years.

I think my next read will be Lucretius and the Transformation of Greek Wisdom, by David Sedley. I was very impressed with the selection that Don read while we were discussing the Plague of Athens at the end of DNR Book 6.

I'm glad you enjoy the podcast! Hopefully someone else will have a more helpful response, Alex

-Joshua

Regarding the telos of the forum ( ), we have had a few interesting threads that might be worth looking at;

September 2019:

Thread

How Would You Answer Someone New Who Asked You: "What Is Epicurean Philosophy All About?"

If you met someone who asked you to explain to them what Epicurean Philosophy is about, how would you introduce them to it, and what are some examples of how it can be applied in everyday life?

Cassius

September 1, 2019 at 8:08 AM

July 2020:

Thread

Musings on A Quick Statement of "What It Means to Be An Epicurean"

My mind is distracted tonight and going in too many directions,, and in times like this it seems I always turns back to the fundamental issue of "what it means to be an Epicurean."

I do not expect to make any changes at the moment, but I am toying with the idea of deleting the quote from Lucian of Samosata (about "striking a blow for Epicurus") currently at the top of the home page. New people probably don't recognize that quote, and i am thinking it might be beneficial if we replaced it…

Cassius

July 13, 2020 at 10:57 PM

For my part, there is a great deal of looming uncertainty as to how much of my free time will be taken up by the online professional coursework that I'll be starting in January.

I don't think I'll know for sure until at least the first week of January. But I like the idea on the whole!

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Other research discovered that 20 minutes outside three times a week is the dose of nature that had the greatest effect on reducing an urban dweller’s levels of the stress hormone cortisol.

I'm outside 35+ hours a week, I must be as beatific as the Dalai Lama!

For me, it's the evening walks that I find restorative, and mostly when the stars are out—walking caeli subter labentia signa, under the gliding signs of heaven. Or, below that heraldry of star and planet, as Humphries renders it.

Dear me, is there to be a lot of shouting? 😅

Since we spoke a little bit about Thomas More a few weeks ago, I thought I would drop this in here. I can't say that I've read the play, but the film is good!

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O, for a draught of vintage! that hath been

Cool'd a long age in the deep-delved earth,

Tasting of Flora and the country green,

Dance, and Provençal song, and sunburnt mirth!

O for a beaker full of the warm South [...]

I'm a Keats-ian where beverages are concerned, whether its libations or poetry.

So wine for me, thank you very much!

I like the way Martin has put it.

Once you've got the core arguments right in your mind, there's room to relax. But minds are imperfect, and memory is frail---so that a certain degree of 'regular maintenance' is necessary to keep one's philosophy on a right heading.

The best way to preserve books from rotting away is to keep them in circulation, and to make new copies from time to time as the old ones fail. Papyrus crumbles, parchment fades---after a generation, nobody remembers anything. So it is with philosophy. We owe this much, I think, to our future selves---to keep the philosophical machinery of our minds in good working order: and perhaps we owe something more; something to those nameless millions as yet unborn, who have not heard the story of Epicurus of Samos. Who will not hear that story, unless we here and others like us are prepared to spend some small part of our own precious time in preserving it---to pass on that torch.

Because to strike a blow for Epicurus is in some measure to strike a blow against time itself, and forgetfulness. Consider--the whole history of our species up to this moment has transpired before the Milky Way galaxy has completed a tenth of one percent of its rotation! We bloom for a day, we lucky few; and in a flash our lives are gone, withered like grapes on the vine.

But though the vine whither, the Garden still has her secrets. By the end of a century no part of her is left unchanged. This plant dies, and that plant dies---

And the Garden remains. In what seems the bleakest winter, all of her hope lies hidden---tucked away in a seed.

Ah, but such seeds! In a monastery in Germany in 1417, a poem sprouted that had lain dormant for a thousand years, unfolding in its spreading leaves the knowledge of nature, and the way things are. Another of these, Italy held in her bosom; mouldering but not lost, buried under a hundred feet of volcanic ash, a cache of papyrus scrolls in 1750 sent forth green tendrils; fresh thoughts from long ago, winding their way through the dark tunnels of the lost villa toward living daylight. Then in 1884, in Turkey on the coast of Asia---where, knitted into cold barren stone, the very words of Epicurus himself were found to have taken root. Indeed, even the library of the Vatican itself came to bear this startling, alien and ancient fruit.

Who knows but that the hand of a child may not bury that acorn, whose growth comes to tower over every other oak. For a seed is so small a thing---and in the planting, it is then that we strike our greatest blow. But how should we do this?

Something comes to mind;

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VS41. We must laugh and philosophize at the same time and do our household duties and employ our other faculties, and never cease proclaiming the sayings of the true philosophy.