Posts by Joshua

I thought of a poem during our conversation, but it took me ages to find it again. It's called "The Bloody Sire" by the American poet Robinson Jeffers:

_____

It is not bad. Let them play.
Let the guns bark and the bombing-plane
Speak his prodigious blasphemies.
It is not bad, it is high time,
Stark violence is still the sire of all the world’s values.

What but the wolf’s tooth whittled so fine
The fleet limbs of the antelope?
What but fear winged the birds, and hunger
Jewelled with such eyes the great goshawk’s head?
Violence has been the sire of all the world’s values.

Who would remember Helen’s face
Lacking the terrible halo of spears?
Who formed Christ but Herod and Caesar,
The cruel and bloody victories of Caesar?
Violence, the bloody sire of all the world’s values.

Never weep, let them play,
Old violence is not too old to beget new values.

_____

And here is Tennyson from In Memoriam:

Quote

Are God and Nature then at strife,
That Nature lends such evil dreams?
So careful of the type she seems,
So careless of the single life;

That I, considering everywhere
Her secret meaning in her deeds,
And finding that of fifty seeds
She often brings but one to bear;

I falter where I firmly trod,
And falling with my weight of cares
Upon the great world’s altar-stairs
That slope thro’ darkness up to God;

I stretch lame hands of faith, and grope,
And gather dust and chaff, and call
To what I feel is Lord of all,
And faintly trust the larger hope.

LV

‘So careful of the type?’ but no.
From scarped cliff and quarried stone
She cries ‘a thousand types are gone:
I care for nothing, all shall go.

Thou makest thine appeal to me:
I bring to life, I bring to death:
The spirit does but mean the breath:
I know no more.’ And he, shall he,

Man, her last work, who seem’d so fair,
Such splendid purpose in his eyes,
Who roll’d the psalm to wintry skies,
Who built him fanes of fruitless prayer,

Who trusted God was love indeed
And love Creation’s final law—
Tho’ Nature, red in tooth and claw
With ravine, shriek’d against his creed—

Who loved, who suffer’d countless ills,
Who battled for the True, the Just,
Be blown about the desert dust,
Or seal’d within the iron hills?

No more? A monster then, a dream,
A discord. Dragons of the prime,
That tare each other in their slime,
Were mellow music match’d with him.

O life as futile, then, as frail!
O for thy voice to soothe and bless!
What hope of answer, or redress?
Behind the veil, behind the veil.

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Life without God is futile--we might say 'meaningless'--so where do we find hope? Beyond the veil of death and into new life.

This week's discussion will be on the concept of 'meaning'. I'm copying this post from another discussion;

___________________________________________________________________

The first appearance of the phrase 'meaning of life' in the written record of the English language:

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

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CHAPTER IX. THE EVERLASTING YEA.
"Temptations in the Wilderness!" exclaims Teufelsdrockh, "Have we not all to be tried with such? Not so easily can the old Adam, lodged in us by birth, be dispossessed. Our Life is compassed round with Necessity; yet is the meaning of Life itself no other than Freedom, than Voluntary Force: thus have we a warfare; in the beginning, especially, a hard-fought battle. For the God-given mandate, Work thou in Well-doing, lies mysteriously written, in Promethean Prophetic Characters, in our hearts; and leaves us no rest, night or day, till it be deciphered and obeyed; till it burn forth, in our conduct, a visible, acted Gospel of Freedom. And as the clay-given mandate, Eat thou and be filled, at the same time persuasively proclaims itself through every nerve,—must not there be a confusion, a contest, before the better Influence can become the upper?

"To me nothing seems more natural than that the Son of Man, when such God-given mandate first prophetically stirs within him, and the Clay must now be vanquished or vanquish,—should be carried of the spirit into grim Solitudes, and there fronting the Tempter do grimmest battle with him; defiantly setting him at naught till he yield and fly. Name it as we choose: with or without visible Devil, whether in the natural Desert of rocks and sands, or in the populous moral Desert of selfishness and baseness,—to such Temptation are we all called. Unhappy if we are not! Unhappy if we are but Half-men, in whom that divine handwriting has never blazed forth, all-subduing, in true sun-splendor; but quivers dubiously amid meaner lights: or smoulders, in dull pain, in darkness, under earthly vapors!—Our Wilderness is the wide World in an Atheistic Century; our Forty Days are long years of suffering and fasting: nevertheless, to these also comes an end. Yes, to me also was given, if not Victory, yet the consciousness of Battle, and the resolve to persevere therein while life or faculty is left. To me also, entangled in the enchanted forests, demon-peopled, doleful of sight and of sound, it was given, after weariest wanderings, to work out my way into the higher sunlit slopes—of that Mountain which has no summit, or whose summit is in Heaven only!"

***

On the roaring billows of Time, thou art not engulfed, but borne aloft into the azure of Eternity. Love not Pleasure; love God. This is the EVERLASTING YEA, wherein all contradiction is solved: wherein whoso walks and works, it is well with him."

• SARTOR RESARTUS:
  The Life and Opinions of Herr Teufelsdrockh, by Thomas Carlyle, ~1831

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Note that this text is considered a parody of Hegel, and that modern scholars find Carlyle's own opinions difficult to isolate. Here is a quote from Carlyle himself in a letter:

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

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Finally assure yourself I am neither Pagan nor Turk, nor circumcised Jew, but an unfortunate Christian individual resident at Chelsea in this year of Grace; neither Pantheist nor Pottheist¹, nor any Theist or ist whatsoever; having the most decided contem[pt] for all manner of System-builders and Sectfounders—as far as contempt may be com[patible] with so mild a nature; feeling well beforehand (taught by long experience) that all such are and even must be wrong. By God's blessing, one has got two eyes to look with; also a mind capable of knowing, of believing: that is all the creed I will at this time insist on.

¹'Pot-theist'; Carlyle was accused of pan-theism. Pot, pan, you get the idea

I've lived in 7 different places in the last 15 years, not counting the cab of a freightliner that I lived out of for two of them.

Looking back, there are things I wish I hadn't given away, things I wish I hadn't acquired, and things I would like to have but couldn't make practical use of in my current place.

It's unlikely that I'll ever own a house, but my experience has given me a good idea of what I'll want in it if I ever do.

Everything in it will be useful, practical, and optimized for utility.

For example; I once had a paper shredder with an irritatingly small bin that was a hassle to empty. So I took a wire rack shelving unit and cut out several wires from the surface of one shelf. I set the head of the paper shredder into the hole that this created, used a bent paper clip attached to the shelf to trigger the safety sensor, and put a large trash can with a can liner under the shelf. The paper shredder dropped the shredding directly into the can, and when I wanted to empty it I could just slide the can out and change the bag.

On the shelf there were two trays for sorting the mail. Once a week or so I could shred everything. The old system was troublesome, irritating, and messy. The new system was neat, tidy, efficient, and effortless.

Then I put a box of wine on the next shelf up with the spout hanging over the end, and a drip pan filled with corks hanging off the lower shelf to catch spills.

I put kitchen knives on a magnetic strip above the sink, with all my frying pans and small sauce pans hanging from hooks on the opposite wall. I don't want to pull everything out from the cabinet to get to the one sauce pan at the back.

So this is my advice; use a systems-based approach and optimize for an experience free of headache and hassle. I'm sure if I lived in that apartment any longer I would have had a mini-fridge next to my living room hammock. I still miss that hammock!

Julia, Don has a write-up that might be relevant to your question here.

And here is a thread where the question of Epicurus' birthday was raised in 2022.

Edit: another thread in the chain that led to the current paper by Don.

Dewitt's paper on this is only just over a page long, and he does point out that in Diogenes Laertius Timocrates is quoted claiming that Epicurus could not rise out of his chair.

Quote

[7] further, [Timocrates asserts] that Epicurus's acquaintance with philosophy was small and his acquaintance with life even smaller ; that his bodily health was pitiful,12 so much so that for many years he was unable to rise from his chair ;

[7] τόν τε Ἐπίκουρον πολλὰ κατὰ τὸν λόγον ἠγνοηκέναι καὶ πολὺ μᾶλλον κατὰ τὸν βίον, τό τε σῶμα ἐλεεινῶς διακεῖσθαι, ὡς πολλῶν ἐτῶν μὴ δύνασθαι ἀπὸ τοῦ φορείου διαναστῆναι

He also points out that the word ὠθεῖσθαι is "omitted by Bailey, and can only mean 'get myself pushed'".

So he suggests something like this;

“If you [plural], and Themista in particular invite me, I can have myself pushed in a three-wheeled cart to wherever you are”

He further suggests that this is not an offer to go there quickly. Dewitt thinks that a slow and laborious journey is signified, and that Epicurus is saying he would make that journey with all its hardships for his friends.

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Epicurus, however, was not a paralytic, and his conveyance was certainly "pushed."

(I have a feeling Don will enjoy that word 'certainly'...)

More on garlands;

Plutarch, That Epicurus Actually Makes a Pleasant Pife Impossible;

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No sufficient praise therefore or equivalent to their deserts can be given those who, for the restraining of such bestial passions, have set down laws, established policy and government of state, instituted magistrates and ordained good and wholesome laws. But who are they that utterly confound and abolish this? Are they not those who withdraw themselves and their followers from all part in the government? Are they not those who say that the garland (στέφανος [garland, wreath, chaplet, crown]) of tranquillity and a reposed life are far more valuable than all the kingdoms and principalities in the world? Are they not those who declare that reigning and being a king is a mistaking the path and straying from the right way of felicity? And they write in express terms: “We are to treat how a man may best keep and preserve the end of Nature, and how he may from the very beginning avoid entering of his own free will and voluntarily upon offices of magistracy, and government over the people.” And yet again, these other words are theirs: “There is no need at all that a man should tire out his mind and body to preserve the Greeks, and to obtain from them a crown of wisdom; but to eat and drink well, O Timocrates, without prejudicing, but rather pleasing the flesh.”

More on garlands;

Plutarch, That Epicurus Actually Makes a Pleasant Pife Impossible;

Quote

No sufficient praise therefore or equivalent to their deserts can be given those who, for the restraining of such bestial passions, have set down laws, established policy and government of state, instituted magistrates and ordained good and wholesome laws. But who are they that utterly confound and abolish this? Are they not those who withdraw themselves and their followers from all part in the government? Are they not those who say that the garland (στέφανος [garland, wreath, chaplet, crown]) of tranquillity and a reposed life are far more valuable than all the kingdoms and principalities in the world? Are they not those who declare that reigning and being a king is a mistaking the path and straying from the right way of felicity? And they write in express terms: “We are to treat how a man may best keep and preserve the end of Nature, and how he may from the very beginning avoid entering of his own free will and voluntarily upon offices of magistracy, and government over the people.” And yet again, these other words are theirs: “There is no need at all that a man should tire out his mind and body to preserve the Greeks, and to obtain from them a crown of wisdom; but to eat and drink well, O Timocrates, without prejudicing, but rather pleasing the flesh.”

Cassius; We may want to move these posts to a new thread.

I'm curious to know what you've found from Clay, Don. Here is a passage from Athenaeus, Deipnosphistae, on one possible meaning of κυλιστὸς (round, large, easily rolled);

Quote

I find also, in the comic poets[see Pamela Gordon above re: New Comedy], mention made of a kind of garland called κυλιστὸς, and I find that Archippus mentions it in his Rhinon, in these lines—

• He went away unhurt to his own house, Having laid aside his cloak, but having on His ἐκκύλιστος garland.

And Alexis, in his Agonis, or The Colt, says—

• This third man has a κυλιστὸς garland Of fig-leaves; but while living he delighted In similar ornaments:

and in his Sciron he says—

• Like a κυλιστὸς garland in suspense.

[p. 1084] Antiphanes also mentions it in his Man in Love with Himself. And Eubulus, in his Œnomaus, or Pelops, saying—

• Brought into circular shape, Like a κυλιστὸς garland.

What, then, is this κυλιστός? For I am aware that Nicander of Thyatira, in his Attic Nouns, speaks as follows,— “'᾿εκκυλίσιοι στέφανοι, and especially those made of roses.” And now I ask what species of garland this was, O Cynulcus; and do not tell me that I am to understand the word as meaning merely large. For you are a man who are fond of not only picking things little known out of books, but of even digging out such matters; like the philosophers in the Joint Deceiver of Baton the comic poet; men whom Sophocles also mentions in his Fellow Feasters, and who resemble you,—

• You should not wear a beard thus well perfumed, And 'tis a shame for you, of such high birth, To be reproached as the son of your belly, When you might rather be call'd your father's son.

Since, then, you are sated not only with the heads of glaucus, but also with that ever-green herb, which that Anthedonian Deity12 ate, and became immortal, give us an answer now about the subject of discussion, that we may not think that when you are dead, you will be metamorphosed, as the divine Plato has described in his treatise on the Soul. For he says that those who are addicted to gluttony, and insolence, and drunkenness, and who are restrained by no modesty, may naturally become transformed into the race of asses, and similar animals.

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And here is the Greek text which I won't re-format;

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εὑρίσκω δὲ καὶ παρὰ τοῖς κωμικοῖς ΚΥΛΙΣΤΟΝ τινα καλούμενον στέφανον καὶ μνημονεύοντα αὐτοῦ Ἄρχιππον ἐν Ῥίνωνι διὰ τούτων ῾I 687 K':'

ἀθῷος ἀποδοὺς θοἰμάτιον ἀπέρχεται,
στέφανον ἔχων τῶν ἐκκυλίστων οἴκαδε.
Ἄλεξις δ᾽ ἐν μὲν Ἀγωνίδι ἢ Ἱππίσκῳ ῾II 298 K':'
ὁ τρίτος οὗτος δ᾽ ἔχει
σύκων κυλιστὸν στέφανον. ἀλλ᾽ ἔχαιρε καὶ
ζῶν τοῖς τοιούτοις.
ἐν δὲ τῷ Σκίρωνί φησι ῾ib. 373':'
ὥσπερ κυλιστὸς στέφανος αἰωρούμενος.
μνημονεύει δ᾽ αὐτοῦ καὶ Ἀντιφάνης ἐν Ἑαυτοῦ Ἐρῶντι ῾ib. 31',' Εὔβουλος δ᾽ ἐν Οἰνομάῳ ἢ Πέλοπι ῾ib. 190':'
περιφοραῖς κυκλούμενος
ὥσπερ κυλιστὸς στέφανος.
τίς οὖν οὗτος ὁ κυλιστός; οἶδα γὰρ τὸν Θυατειρηνὸν Νίκανδρον ἐν τοῖς Ἀττικοῖς Ὀνόμασι λέγοντα τάδε: ‘ἐκκύλιστοι στέφανοι καὶ μάλιστα οἱ ἐκ ῥόδων.' καὶ τὸ εἶδος ὁποῖον ζητῶ, ὦ Κύνουλκε. καὶ μή μοι εἴπῃς ὅτι δεῖ τοὺς ἁδροὺς ἀκούειν. σὺ γὰρ εἶ ὁ τὰ ἐν τοῖς βιβλίοις ἀπόρρητα οὐ μόνον ἐκλέγων ἀλλὰ καὶ ἐξορύττων, καθάπερ οἱ παρὰ Βάτωνι τῷ κωμῳδιοποιῷ ἐν Συνεξαπατῶντι φιλόσοφοι ῾III 329 K',' περὶ ὧν καὶ Σοφοκλῆς Συνδείπνῳ φησίν, οὖσί σοι παραπλησίοις ῾fr. 139 N':'
οὔτοι γένειον ὧδε χρὴ διηλιφὲς
φοροῦντα κἀντίπαιδα καὶ γένει μέγαν
γαστρὸς καλεῖσθαι παῖδα, τοῦ πατρὸς παρόν.
ἐπειδὴ οὖν ἤδη καὶ σὺ πεπλήρωσαι οὐ μόνον τῶν τοῦ γλαύκου κρανίων ἀλλὰ καὶ τῆς ἀειζώου βοτάνης, ἧς ὁ Ἀνθηδόνιος ἐκεῖνος δαίμων ἐμφορηθεὶς ἀθάνατος πάλιν ητις γέγονε, λέγε ἡμῖν περὶ τοῦ προκειμένου, ἵνα μὴ κατὰ τὸν θεῖον Πλάτωνα ῾Phaed. p. 81e' 'ὑπολάβωμέν σε ἀποθανόντα μεταμορφωθῆναι [ἐν τῷ περὶ Ψυχῆς]: τοὺς μὲν γὰρ τὰς γαστριμαργίας τε καὶ ὕβρεις καὶ φιλοποσίας μεμελετηκότας καὶ μὴ διευλαβουμένους εἰς τὰ τῶν ὄνων γένη καὶ τῶν τοιούτων θηρίων εἰκὸς ἐνδύεσθαι.'

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I find this interesting for several reasons; one is the connection in this passage between garlands and the "Epicurean" vices of gluttony, drunkenness, insolence, and immodesty. Another connection is with the proem to the fourth book of Lucretius;

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I traverse the distant haunts of the Pierides, never trodden before by the foot of man. ’Tis my joy to approach those untasted springs and drink my fill, ’tis my joy to pluck new flowers and gather a glorious coronal for my head from spots whence before the muses have never wreathed the forehead of any man. First because I teach about great things, and hasten to free the mind from the close bondage of religion, then because on a dark theme I trace verses so full of light, touching all with the muses’ charm. For that too is seen to be not without good reason; for even as healers, when they essay to give loathsome wormwood to children, first touch the rim all round the cup with the sweet golden moisture of honey, so that the unwitting age of children may be beguiled as far as the lips, and meanwhile may drink the bitter draught of wormwood, and though charmed may not be harmed, but rather by such means may be restored and come to health; so now, since this philosophy full often seems too bitter to those who have not tasted it, and the multitude shrinks back away from it, I have desired to set forth to you my reasoning in the sweet-tongued song of the muses, and as though to touch it with the pleasant honey of poetry, if perchance I might avail by such means to keep your mind set upon my verses, while you take in the whole nature of things, and are conscious of your profit.

-Cyril Bailey translation

So I offer 'thrice-garlanded' as one more possibility. And I also cannot help but think of this passage from Coleridge;

Quote

Weave a circle round him thrice,
And close your eyes with holy dread
For he on honey-dew hath fed,
And drunk the milk of Paradise.

Cassius; We may want to move these posts to a new thread.

I'm curious to know what you've found from Clay, Don. Here is a passage from Athenaeus, Deipnosphistae, on one possible meaning of κυλιστὸς (round, large, easily rolled);

Quote

I find also, in the comic poets[see Pamela Gordon above re: New Comedy], mention made of a kind of garland called κυλιστὸς, and I find that Archippus mentions it in his Rhinon, in these lines—

• He went away unhurt to his own house, Having laid aside his cloak, but having on His ἐκκύλιστος garland.

And Alexis, in his Agonis, or The Colt, says—

• This third man has a κυλιστὸς garland Of fig-leaves; but while living he delighted In similar ornaments:

and in his Sciron he says—

• Like a κυλιστὸς garland in suspense.

[p. 1084] Antiphanes also mentions it in his Man in Love with Himself. And Eubulus, in his Œnomaus, or Pelops, saying—

• Brought into circular shape, Like a κυλιστὸς garland.

What, then, is this κυλιστός? For I am aware that Nicander of Thyatira, in his Attic Nouns, speaks as follows,— “'᾿εκκυλίσιοι στέφανοι, and especially those made of roses.” And now I ask what species of garland this was, O Cynulcus; and do not tell me that I am to understand the word as meaning merely large. For you are a man who are fond of not only picking things little known out of books, but of even digging out such matters; like the philosophers in the Joint Deceiver of Baton the comic poet; men whom Sophocles also mentions in his Fellow Feasters, and who resemble you,—

• You should not wear a beard thus well perfumed, And 'tis a shame for you, of such high birth, To be reproached as the son of your belly, When you might rather be call'd your father's son.

Since, then, you are sated not only with the heads of glaucus, but also with that ever-green herb, which that Anthedonian Deity12 ate, and became immortal, give us an answer now about the subject of discussion, that we may not think that when you are dead, you will be metamorphosed, as the divine Plato has described in his treatise on the Soul. For he says that those who are addicted to gluttony, and insolence, and drunkenness, and who are restrained by no modesty, may naturally become transformed into the race of asses, and similar animals.

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And here is the Greek text which I won't re-format;

Quote

εὑρίσκω δὲ καὶ παρὰ τοῖς κωμικοῖς ΚΥΛΙΣΤΟΝ τινα καλούμενον στέφανον καὶ μνημονεύοντα αὐτοῦ Ἄρχιππον ἐν Ῥίνωνι διὰ τούτων ῾I 687 K':'

ἀθῷος ἀποδοὺς θοἰμάτιον ἀπέρχεται,
στέφανον ἔχων τῶν ἐκκυλίστων οἴκαδε.
Ἄλεξις δ᾽ ἐν μὲν Ἀγωνίδι ἢ Ἱππίσκῳ ῾II 298 K':'
ὁ τρίτος οὗτος δ᾽ ἔχει
σύκων κυλιστὸν στέφανον. ἀλλ᾽ ἔχαιρε καὶ
ζῶν τοῖς τοιούτοις.
ἐν δὲ τῷ Σκίρωνί φησι ῾ib. 373':'
ὥσπερ κυλιστὸς στέφανος αἰωρούμενος.
μνημονεύει δ᾽ αὐτοῦ καὶ Ἀντιφάνης ἐν Ἑαυτοῦ Ἐρῶντι ῾ib. 31',' Εὔβουλος δ᾽ ἐν Οἰνομάῳ ἢ Πέλοπι ῾ib. 190':'
περιφοραῖς κυκλούμενος
ὥσπερ κυλιστὸς στέφανος.
τίς οὖν οὗτος ὁ κυλιστός; οἶδα γὰρ τὸν Θυατειρηνὸν Νίκανδρον ἐν τοῖς Ἀττικοῖς Ὀνόμασι λέγοντα τάδε: ‘ἐκκύλιστοι στέφανοι καὶ μάλιστα οἱ ἐκ ῥόδων.' καὶ τὸ εἶδος ὁποῖον ζητῶ, ὦ Κύνουλκε. καὶ μή μοι εἴπῃς ὅτι δεῖ τοὺς ἁδροὺς ἀκούειν. σὺ γὰρ εἶ ὁ τὰ ἐν τοῖς βιβλίοις ἀπόρρητα οὐ μόνον ἐκλέγων ἀλλὰ καὶ ἐξορύττων, καθάπερ οἱ παρὰ Βάτωνι τῷ κωμῳδιοποιῷ ἐν Συνεξαπατῶντι φιλόσοφοι ῾III 329 K',' περὶ ὧν καὶ Σοφοκλῆς Συνδείπνῳ φησίν, οὖσί σοι παραπλησίοις ῾fr. 139 N':'
οὔτοι γένειον ὧδε χρὴ διηλιφὲς
φοροῦντα κἀντίπαιδα καὶ γένει μέγαν
γαστρὸς καλεῖσθαι παῖδα, τοῦ πατρὸς παρόν.
ἐπειδὴ οὖν ἤδη καὶ σὺ πεπλήρωσαι οὐ μόνον τῶν τοῦ γλαύκου κρανίων ἀλλὰ καὶ τῆς ἀειζώου βοτάνης, ἧς ὁ Ἀνθηδόνιος ἐκεῖνος δαίμων ἐμφορηθεὶς ἀθάνατος πάλιν ητις γέγονε, λέγε ἡμῖν περὶ τοῦ προκειμένου, ἵνα μὴ κατὰ τὸν θεῖον Πλάτωνα ῾Phaed. p. 81e' 'ὑπολάβωμέν σε ἀποθανόντα μεταμορφωθῆναι [ἐν τῷ περὶ Ψυχῆς]: τοὺς μὲν γὰρ τὰς γαστριμαργίας τε καὶ ὕβρεις καὶ φιλοποσίας μεμελετηκότας καὶ μὴ διευλαβουμένους εἰς τὰ τῶν ὄνων γένη καὶ τῶν τοιούτων θηρίων εἰκὸς ἐνδύεσθαι.'

Display More

I find this interesting for several reasons; one is the connection in this passage between garlands and the "Epicurean" vices of gluttony, drunkenness, insolence, and immodesty. Another connection is with the proem to the fourth book of Lucretius;

Quote

I traverse the distant haunts of the Pierides, never trodden before by the foot of man. ’Tis my joy to approach those untasted springs and drink my fill, ’tis my joy to pluck new flowers and gather a glorious coronal for my head from spots whence before the muses have never wreathed the forehead of any man. First because I teach about great things, and hasten to free the mind from the close bondage of religion, then because on a dark theme I trace verses so full of light, touching all with the muses’ charm. For that too is seen to be not without good reason; for even as healers, when they essay to give loathsome wormwood to children, first touch the rim all round the cup with the sweet golden moisture of honey, so that the unwitting age of children may be beguiled as far as the lips, and meanwhile may drink the bitter draught of wormwood, and though charmed may not be harmed, but rather by such means may be restored and come to health; so now, since this philosophy full often seems too bitter to those who have not tasted it, and the multitude shrinks back away from it, I have desired to set forth to you my reasoning in the sweet-tongued song of the muses, and as though to touch it with the pleasant honey of poetry, if perchance I might avail by such means to keep your mind set upon my verses, while you take in the whole nature of things, and are conscious of your profit.

-Cyril Bailey translation

So I offer 'thrice-garlanded' as one more possibility. And I also cannot help but think of this passage from Coleridge;

Quote

Weave a circle round him thrice,
And close your eyes with holy dread
For he on honey-dew hath fed,
And drunk the milk of Paradise.

Lucian of Samosata is a notable case of someone who managed to cross several boundaries, of class, language, and nationality; he was born in Roman Syria on the banks of the Euphrates, and his native tongue was probably a dialect of Aramaic. If his own biographical writings are to be believed (a dubious proposition, some think), he was apprenticed to his uncle, a sculptor. Failing in that, he traveled for an education, finding his way first to Ionia and then to Athens.

He learned Greek and wrote with good style, gaining fame for himself and popularity (and notoriety) for his works. They were sporadically read in the east in the middle ages and since the Renaissance have never gone out of fashion in the west.

It was an exceptional career, and one that would be very difficult for most non-Greeks to imitate.

Things are quite different now. Literacy and education are widespread, books are mass-produced and easily accessible, and the internet has rendered most historical obstacles to learning obsolete.

In compensation, we have our own challenges; adherence to a philosophical sect is no longer the default. The language barrier between nations is less daunting than it was once, but the barrier between us and the language of the ancient texts is in some ways higher now than it has been in centuries; studying classics is also no longer the default.

Epicurus himself may have been in poor health; it depends which sources you rely upon. Here is the Suda, a tenth century Byzantine encyclopedia:

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This man assigned no importance to religion;[1] but there were three brothers [sc. of his],[2] who died in the most pitiful way, struck down by countless diseases.[3] As for Epicurus, although still young, he was not able to easily descend from his bed by himself, but he was short-sighted and fearful of facing the sunlight, for he disliked the most brilliant and shining of the gods. And indeed he turned his eyes away even from the light of fire, and from his lower orifices blood used to drip down, and such was the consumption of his body that he was not even able to carry the weight of his own clothes.[4] And Metrodorus[5] and Polyaenus[6], both of them his companions, died in the worst way men can die, and indeed they took for their impiety a requital that nobody might ever blame. So easily overcome by pleasure was Epicurus that in his last moments he wrote in his will a disposition that a sacrifice be offered once a year to his father, his mother and his brothers, and to the previously mentioned Metrodorus and Polyaenus, but twice a year to himself;[7] so that even in this the sage honored the higher degree of profligacy. And he had some tables of stone built, and gave orders that these be put in his tomb, this greedy and gluttonous man. He devised these things not because he was rich, but because his appetites had driven him mad, as if those things should die along with him.

So the compilers of the Suda are clearly hostile, but what about the fragments of Epicurus' own letters? Some scholars (DeWitt and Diskin Clay among them) have suggested that Epicurus makes reference to his travelling in a three-wheeled cart, as Pamela Gordon explains:

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Next we hear about the claim that Epicurus wrote letters that flattered Lysimachus’ minister Mithras, addressing him as one ought to address Apollo. At this point, we meet the fragments of the letters to Leontion and Themista mentioned in the previous section of this chapter. The language of these letters is extravagant: “By Lord Apollo, my dear little Leontion, how we burst into applause when we read your letter” (Παιὰν ἄναξ, φίλον Λεοντάριον, οἵου κροτοθορύβου ἡμᾶς ἐνέπλησας ἀναγνόντας σου τὸ ἐπιστόλιον); “If you [plural], and Themista in particular invite me, I am capable of twirling thrice and rushing to wherever you are” (Οἷός τε . . . εἰμί, ἐὰν μὴ ὑμεῖς πρός με ἀφίκησθε, αὐτὸς τρικύλιστος, ὅπου ἂν ὑμεῖς καὶ Θεμίστα παρακαλῆτε, ὠθεῖσθαι, 10.5)[footnote 35]. Idiosyncratic Epicurean language of the sort parodied in New Comedy may be at play here. The signification of “twirling thrice” is lost to modern readers, and the word for “applause” (κροτοθορύβου) was unusual enough to inspire an entry in the Suda, with this fragmentary letter as the only source (kappa 2480 Adler). Diogenes also records that these sources assert that Epicurus wrote to Pythocles (whom they identify as “good looking”), “I shall sit here awaiting your desired, godlike entrance” (10.5).

‐-------------------

[footnote 35.] Clay (1998: 247), who offers the translation “on a three-wheeled cart,” stresses the writer’s “enthusiasm and warmth.”

Presumably inferring that τρικύλιστος somehow derives from τρι - κύκλος, three - cycle.

Maybe the symbol of Epicureanism should be a tricycle!

I'd like to throw in one more contender; the myrtle blossom, sacred to Aphrodite/Venus.

https://toptropicals.com/pics/garden/m1/Aroma/Myrtus_communis4234_flower_.jpg

Note that this is the True or Common Myrtle, myrtus communis. Frescoes featuring this plant have been discovered at Santorini and Pompeii.

Somewhere buried deep in the records of this forum is a link to an article making the argument for the preferability of polytheism over monotheism, but I cannot find it at present.

This book by Jonathan Kirsch looks promising. And I know we've talked about The Darkening Age by Catherine Nixey before as well.

More Olympians:

Poseidon, Ares, Hestia or Dionysus (depending on who and when you ask), and Artemis.

Hades was not an Olympian, but his power rivaled that of Poseidon, who was second in strength after Zeus.

I really recommend Stephen Fry's Mythos audiobooks! You should at least do yourself the favor of listening to the first chapter here:

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Is there any external thing or circumstance (that is not itself defined as always painful) which at some time does not lose its character as generally painful and become pleasurable?

Does the meaning of this question change if you remove the word external?

This is a tangent, but consider the following Principle Doctrine:

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PD35. It is not possible for one who acts in secret contravention of the terms of the compact not to harm or be harmed to be confident that he will escape detection, even if, at present, he escapes a thousand times. For up to the time of death it cannot be certain that he will indeed escape.

Why does Epicurus think this is a problem for "the one who acts"? Cicero in On Ends suggests that this is not an effective deterrent; would Epicurus agree with him?

On Ends, Book II:

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For those things which you were saying were very weak and powerless arguments,—when you urged that the wicked were tormented by their own consciences, and also by fear of punishment, which is either inflicted on them, or keeps them in constant fear that it will be inflicted. One ought not to imagine a man timid, or weak in his mind, nor a good man, who, whatever he has done, keeps tormenting himself, and dreads everything; but rather let us fancy one, who with great shrewdness refers everything to usefulness—an acute, crafty, wary man, able with ease to devise plans for deceiving any one secretly, without any witness, or any one being privy to it. Do you think that I am speaking of Lucius Tubulus?—who, when as prætor he had been sitting as judge upon the [pg 149]trial of some assassins, took money to influence his decision so undisguisedly, that the next year Publius Scævola, being tribune of the people, made a motion before the people, that an inquiry should be made into the case. In accordance with which decree of the people, Cnæus Cæpio, the consul, was ordered by the senate to investigate the affair. Tubulus immediately went into banishment, and did not dare to make any reply to the charge, for the matter was notorious.

XVII. We are not, therefore, inquiring about a man who is merely wicked, but about one who mingles cunning with his wickedness, (as Quintus Pompeius32 did when he repudiated the treaty of Numantia,) and yet who is not afraid of everything, but who has rather no regard for the stings of conscience, which it costs him no trouble at all to stifle; for a man who is called close and secret is so far from informing against himself, that he will even pretend to grieve at what is done wrong by another; for what else is the meaning of the word crafty (versutus)? I recollect on one occasion being present at a consultation held by Publius Sextilius Rufus, when he reported the case on which he asked advice to his friends in this manner: That he had been left heir to Quintus Fadius Gallus; in whose will it had been written that he had entreated Sextilius to take care that what he left behind him should come to his daughter. Sextilius denied that he had done so. He could deny it with impunity, for who was there to convict him? None of us believed him; and it was more likely that he should tell a lie whose interest it was to do so, than he who had set down in his will that he had made the request which he ought to have made. He added, moreover, that having sworn to comply with the Voconian33 law, he did [pg 150]not dare to violate it, unless his friends were of a contrary opinion. I myself was very young when I was present on this occasion, but there were present also many men of the highest character, not one of whom thought that more ought to be given to Fadia than could come to her under the provisions of the Voconian law. Sextilius retained a very large inheritance; of which, if he had followed the opinion of those men who preferred what was right and honourable to all profit and advantage, he would never have touched a single penny. Do you think that he was afterwards anxious and uneasy in his mind on that account? Not a bit of it: on the contrary, he was a rich man, owing to that inheritance, and he rejoiced in his riches, for he set a great value on money which was acquired not only without violating the laws, but even by the law.

As I said, this is a tangent. But it might be instructive.

Does the same hold for grief, sorrow, guilt, shame, fear, despair, etc?

Is happiness always pleasureable?

On the topic of desires, I do want to mention Ben Jonson's play The Alchemist. When the master of a London townhouse travels for his health, the servant he leaves behind falls into company with rogues, and they devise a number of schemes to cheat, swindle, and con their way to fortune. In one of these cons, the mark is a man named Sir Epicure Mammon, whose deep longing for the easy riches he hopes will be procured with the acquisition of the alchemical magnum opus - the legendary Philosopher's Stone - leaves him prey to a farcical series of embarrassments.

Here is Sir Epicure waxing poetic as he describes the panoply of his desires;

For I do mean
To have a list of wives and concubines,
Equal with Solomon, who had the stone
Alike with me; and I will make me a back
With the elixir, that shall be as tough
As Hercules, to encounter fifty a night.

***

I will have all my beds blown up, not stuft;
Down is too hard: and then, mine oval room
Fill'd with such pictures as Tiberius took
From Elephantis, and dull Aretine
But coldly imitated. Then, my glasses
Cut in more subtle angles, to disperse
And multiply the figures, as I walk
Naked between my succubae. My mists
I'll have of perfume, vapour'd 'bout the room,
To lose ourselves in; and my baths, like pits
To fall into; from whence we will come forth,
And roll us dry in gossamer and roses.

***

And my flatterers
Shall be the pure and gravest of divines,
That I can get for money. My mere fools,
Eloquent burgesses, and then my poets
The same that writ so subtly of the fart,
Whom I will entertain still for that subject.
The few that would give out themselves to be
Court and town-stallions, and, each-where, bely
Ladies who are known most innocent for them;
Those will I beg, to make me eunuchs of:
And they shall fan me with ten estrich tails
A-piece, made in a plume to gather wind.
We will be brave, Puffe, now we have the med'cine.
My meat shall all come in, in Indian shells,
Dishes of agat set in gold, and studded
With emeralds, sapphires, hyacinths, and rubies.
The tongues of carps, dormice, and camels' heels,
Boil'd in the spirit of sol, and dissolv'd pearl,
Apicius' diet, 'gainst the epilepsy:
And I will eat these broths with spoons of amber,
Headed with diamond and carbuncle.
My foot-boy shall eat pheasants, calver'd salmons,
Knots, godwits, lampreys: I myself will have
The beards of barbels served, instead of sallads;
Oil'd mushrooms; and the swelling unctuous paps
Of a fat pregnant sow, newly cut off,
Drest with an exquisite, and poignant sauce;
For which, I'll say unto my cook, "There's gold,
Go forth, and be a knight."

Note: I started to write up a separate thread, but then noticed Cassius created this one. So I'm just copying over what I wrote there.

_________________________

In light of a recent thread on the categories of desire, and another recent conversation on the topic of this thread, I wanted to add some clarity to why I answer the title question affirmatively; yes, I am provisionally of the opinion that desire is a kind of pain. As I said in a recent conversation, this is a consistent opinion, though not a strong one. I really am quite uncertain about this.

Desire is a conscious or unconscious feeling in the mind of wanting something; a preference to have where I have not, or to have not where I have.¹ Because a.) desire is a feeling, and because b.) "the feelings are two, pleasure and pain", desire is either;

1. Always pleasureable
2. Sometimes pleasureable and sometimes painful, or
3. Always painful.

The first proposition strikes me as facially absurd, but if some one wishes to defend it I'll hear them out. The main theater of dispute is between the second and third propositions. Before I begin, I'll note something that will quickly become obvious - that this argument, which is ultimately about feelings, pathe, is also an argument about words and definition, and about how language is used and how it should be used.

Take, for example, the phrasing of the thread title; Is Desire a Kind of Pain? I argue that it is. But it could be said that in defending that precise construction I am using language in a way that is self-serving. This can be seen in my response to the following deductive argument:

• P1. There is nothing other than pain that is always painful, and there is nothing other than pleasure that is always pleasureable.
• P2. Desire is by definition something other than pain, and also something other than pleasure.
• C. Desire, then, is neither always painful, nor always pleasureable.

And now my response, in which I categorize desire differently:

• P1. The feeling of pain is always painful.
• P2. The feeling of pain is differentiable. Just as we speak of mental pain vs bodily pain, it is possible to speak with even greater precision of the kinds of mental pain, and the kinds of bodily pain.
• P3. Each kind of pain is always painful when it is present.
• P4. Desire is a kind of mental pain.
• C. Desire is always painful when it is present.

You see the importance of language. Now, here are my immediate responses to some other objections:

• Isn't my desire for the continuation of something good that I already have pleasureable?

No. The current enjoyment is pleasureable, and the feeling of security that comes with certainty of (if that were possible), or confidence in, future enjoyment is also pleasureable. Future pleasures are not pleasant until you feel them. Future pains are not painful until you feel them. Let's explore this further with the next objection:

• If it's Christmas Eve and presents are expected Christmas morning, isn't it pleasureable to anticipate those presents?

Perhaps, but anticipating is not the same as desiring. I can anticipate a slap to the face without ever desiring one. It is possible to experience both feelings at once, or, if not, then in quick succession. But the desire, when and if it is felt, is felt as a kind of pain.

Note that I have said nothing about the intensity of that pain. It may be the slightest prick, or it might be much greater.

If one does experience the desire for their Christmas presents on Christmas Eve, the desire is felt in that moment.

I'll stop there for now. Again, I don't feel nearly as strongly about this as I might seem to let on, and I think I could be easily persuaded to a different opinion. Epicurus himself refers to "desires that are not accompanied by pain when they go unfulfilled" in the Principle Doctrines. If he's right, I'm probably wrong.

______________

¹ I suppose I'm drawing a distinction between desires, which are mental, and fundamental biological urges, which are physical, and which even insects respond to. Do tapeworms have desires? I would think not...

Very interesting, Don! Lucretius refers to Homer himself as "ever-flourishing", semper florentis.

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If the limit of pleasure is the absence of pain (ie. 100% pleasure 0% pain), aren’t unnecessary desires merely variation?

I agree with this, but I would put a different connotation on it. Satisfying unnecessary desires can be enriching. For example, I would prefer to live in a city with better museums; I don't actually need them, but I do enjoy them.

The limit of the quantity of pixels on a given screen is x, and even a black and white film will employ every pixel - but will the quality of the experience be better in full color? I think it probably will be.

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[11] [However, Zeno had good reason to ?] consider, in connection with many [writings of our school], that a doubt hung over the opinions which were those of our great men at the origins [of the Garden]; thus [he designated for Epicurus] certain letters, the summary on celestial phenomena To Pythocles ([Πρὸς Πυ]θ̣οκλέα περὶ̣ μ̣[ε]τεώρων ἐπιτομῆςand)

...I had no idea that there was even a suggestion that the authorship of the Letter to Pythocles was in dispute in the late second and early first centuries BC; that actually blows my mind. The Greek text at the Perseus Project has this at the beginning of the letter;

Ἐπίκουρος Πυθοκλεῖ χαίρειν.

"Epicurus to Pythocles, greeting."

There's a lot to unpack here.

Per usual, Cassius, you are five years ahead of me. I have just read the whole packet straight through on Attalus, following my most recent re-listen of Shakespeare's Julius Caesar, and I must say these letters get quite harrowing in the run-up to Philippi.

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Brutus

Are yet two Romans living such as these?
The last of all the Romans, fare thee well.
It is impossible that ever Rome
Should breed thy fellow. — Friends, I owe more tears
To this dead man than you shall see me pay.
I shall find time, Cassius, I shall find time.
Come, therefore, and to Thasos send his body;
His funerals shall not be in our camp
Lest it discomfort us. Lucilius, come,
And come, young Cato; let us to the field.
Labeo and Flavius, set our battles on.
'Tis three o'clock; and, Romans, yet ere night
We shall try fortune in a second fight.

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