Posts by Pacatus

In Praise of Mystery: A Poem for Europa

Arching under the night sky inky

with black expansiveness, we point

to the planets we know, we

pin quick wishes on stars. From earth,

we read the sky as if it is an unerring book

of the universe, expert and evident.

Still, there are mysteries below our sky:

the whale song, the songbird singing

its call in the bough of a wind-shaken tree.

We are creatures of constant awe,

curious at beauty, at leaf and blossom,

at grief and pleasure, sun and shadow.

And it is not darkness that unites us,

not the cold distance of space, but

the offering of water, each drop of rain,

each rivulet, each pulse, each vein.

O second moon, we, too, are made

of water, of vast and beckoning seas.

We, too, are made of wonders, of great

and ordinary loves, of small invisible worlds,

of a need to call out through the dark.

– Ada Limón, U.S. Poet Laureate

Quote from Don

I'm pinning my hopes on the Europa mission

“All these worlds are yours except Europa. Attempt no landing there.” (A Space Odyssey, 2010: The Year We Make Contact)

Quote from Don

The construction of the two phrases is very similar:

1. τὰς τῶν ἀσώτων ἡδονὰς

καὶ "and"

2. τὰς ἐν ἀπολαύσει κειμένας

which Epicurus seems fond of doing in pairs.

Just some speculative thoughts:

κεῖμαι has apparently also been used to mean “ to lie sick / lie in misery / lie in ruins” – in context that could refer to the profligate, who take pleasures beyond the limits, and [καὶ] as a result lies in misery. That would support Elli’s interpretation. But, since the profligate would already be understood as one "in the enjoyment of pleasures out of limits”, that particular phrasing would seem redundant.

Both in light of fragment 211 and the pleasure that I take in a sweet afternoon nap, I would not take to κεῖμαι simply meaning the enjoyment of sleep!

This makes perfect sense, and I think is quite in sync with Epicurean tradition.

Don

One would think that Hedone/Voluptas would be natural options.

But -- you're Apollo all the way!

In Hinduism, there is the concept of “Ishtadevata”: your personally chosen or preferred god for devotion/worship/contemplation. Since the gods don’t tend to be jealous, that doesn’t mean you cannot honor other gods as well.

Given the Greek (and Greco-Roman) polytheism of Epicurus’ time – which really does not support relating to just an ambiguous, abstract notion of “divinity” (natural or supernatural) – and Epicurus’ encouragement to honor the gods … which might you choose as your “ishtadevata”? (Not that I think you have to be limited to the Greco-Roman pantheons.)

~ ~ ~

I am generally drawn to Dionysus: god of wine and song, dance and ecstasy (etc.).

But, on reflection, I think I’ll go with Gaia: goddess of the earth – a primordial Greek divinity that represents all the gifts of the earth in which we live. And, I think, a goddess who personifies the naturality (and nature) in which we exist. Perhaps not so distant as the gods that might dwell in the cosmic interstices of distant worlds …

As for some contemplative ritual or practice – I need to work on that.

Looking forward to seeing others’ thoughts …

Image of The Earth Goddess at the Atlanta Botanical Gardens.

A life of happy, harmonious well-being* and a pleasurable/pleasant life – in body and mind – are the same. Free from fear of gods or grave, I abide in simplicity and ease.

~ ~ ~

* My rendering of eudaimonia.

Quote from Cassius

We should begin to emphasis that again and keep at it!

It is a very helpful exercise -- and perhaps one that is never truly finished (at least mine is unlikely to be ).

Personally, I don’t have any problem with the variety of interpretations – which I suspect is inescapable in any milieu that does not stifle critical thinking.

I would be much more concerned about any sharp-edged, cookie-cutter definition about what a “True Epicurean™” must be and do. But, then again, I would not be much concerned about whether or not my understanding/interpretation of Epicurus fit the contours of that cookie cutter. (Till the Inquisitors show up, anyway – but then, Epicurean philosophy, as I see it, is really not amenable to any Inquisition. ) But, then again – again – I don’t mind being convinced that I am wrong, or at least would do well to rethink things (though I might be a bit stubborn along the way ).

After all, a hard rule-based (command-based, imperative-based) approach is more in line with Platonism / Stoicism / Kantianism – and strict creedalistic religions. I find an Epicurean outlook to be freeing from all that (and, in my case, has taken years to come to).

With all that said, there are certain lineaments of the philosophy that I think can be discerned (such as non-supernaturalism) – even as that discernment is advanced by continued study, and by dialectical discussion from multiple perspectives – as takes place on here every day. And, as my understanding has been thereby deepened (hopefully), I find myself more relaxed and at ease about it all.

~ ~ ~

Note: Perhaps my favorite portrait of Epicurus is Frances Wright’s fictional account in A Few Days in Athens – partly because of how she portrays him responding to issues like this one: robust reasoning, but always with graciousness and a kind of easy grace.

Do you think that Epicureanism is enjoying a resurgence of interest, as a scholarly topic, especially among women – such as yourself, Catherine Wilson and Pamela Gordon? If so (in your opinion), why?

Professor Austin, how did you yourself come to Epicureanism – both as a subject for your scholarship, and for your personal life?

(I know you fleshed this out a bit in the final chapter of your book.)

Don

According to Wiktionary, ξενία can mean hospitality – so, close.

Γείτονας means neighbor – and γειτονεύω means to be neighbors, or to border on. I also found a reference to γειτονικός, meaning neighborly.

Could you combine the terms into a phrase meaning “neighborly hospitality” perhaps?

Welcome!

Thinking about this, it struck me that – like ripples spreading out on a pond – there might be a notion beyond a core circle of like-minded friends, but before the idea of community or society (a community of communities?) sustained by social contracts of mutual benefit.

I’ll call it neighborliness.

We are not close friends with our neighbors in our apartment building. We have seldom shared meals or entertainments. We seldom know their religion, if any (though our neighbors across the hall are Hindu) – or their personal or social philosophies. But we respect one another’s’ presence: e.g., keeping the noise volume down – whilst, at the same time, tolerating the running feet of our upstairs neighbors’ small children; as well as the occasional Saturday night party (which we also had in our youth). We help one another with doors, and carrying garbage bags to the dumpster.

We greet one another. We are a bit like Rilke’s “solitudes that border and greet and protect one another.”

Our closest neighbor was a young woman who lived in the apartment next to ours for a few years. She is a staff sergeant in the Army (who relocated to Washington, D.C. – where she now has some classified position). Once she was locked out of her apartment, and spent some hours with us, talking and sipping wine, while waiting for the locksmith. She helped us move some heavy items (we’re in our 70s and I have a bad back; she was incredibly physically fit: one of her passions). My wife looked after her cats when she had to go on some training missions. She was always on call if we needed anything. She still texts my wife once in awhile, just to keep touch.

Were we friends, in Epicurus’ sense? Not like our few close friends; not like Epicurus’ circle as I understand it.

But we were good neighbors for one another. “Solitudes that border and greet and protect one another.” I have known others.

Welcome!

I want to add that, for much of my life, I let the (unattainable) “perfect” both keep me from progressing from simple good to good – and be the condemnatory judge of wherever I happened to be in my life’s course. Never “good enough” – in the kind of Puritan/Kantian/Stoical milieu I had absorbed.

I had “good” programming for that in my early and formative years. And I compulsively (co-dependently) attached myself to people who would re-enforce/abuse/manipulate that tendency.

It was only in my 40s that (with the help of new friends) I was able to begin the process of extricating myself from that psychological morass. But it still lurks in my subconscious, rearing its head on occasion (especially in occasional nightmares).

Epicurus – after long searching in various spiritual and philosophical traditions (some helpful along the way) – gives me a sturdy base from which to examine and pragmatically address those tendencies. And that is why I am grateful to everyone on this site (even as I stumble along).

Maybe some of the newcomers here will not have to endure the years that I did.

Quote from Don

You can FEEL The Good. It's right here, now, in our bodies and our minds.

Ah! That dovetails with Cassius’ response to my post in the Pleasure vs Pain thread.

Aristotle, as I recall, said that the highest good is eudaimonia (which I render as happy well-being). But what is a eudaimonic life but one that is the most pleasurable/pleasant (including ataraxia)? Eudaimonia is just that – not some additional state to which pleasure and pleasantness lead (contra Aristotle, I think).

And it is an affair of pathe …

Quote from Don

It is of paramount importance to *always* adhere to VS71: Ask this question of every desire: what will happen to me if the object of desire is achieved, and what if not?

This is the kind of talk that always makes me tense up.  

“Stop calculating, Boss,” Zorba continued. “Forget numbers, break those disgusting scales, close the grocer’s shop.” (Nikos Kazantzakis, Zorba the Greek – I am, perhaps helpfully, far more the introvert than Zorba.)

Now, I would not advocate for an “unaware life” – quite the contrary. But neither do I want to be continually working an abacus in my head to calculate, calculate, calculate (nor a set of scales to weigh, and weigh and weigh) – or even to think, think, think.

I admit (unapologetically) that I have some Cyrenaic tendencies (while recognizing errors in Aristippus’ philosophy that I think Epicurus corrects). And, between the Scilla of ascetism and the Charybdis of tranquillism – as tendencies toward a shipwreck of possible error – I am unlikely to err toward asceticism (though I do value a certain simplictas in how I live).

With that said: although it might be “a bit early,” I’m going to enjoy an afternoon martini (even if it leads to an unplanned nap ).

~ ~ ~

Apologies Don if I am misinterpreting/misrepresenting you here.

Quote from Cassius

However the imagery of how the best life involves action, rather than being simply a floating disembodied mind, is useful for our purposes, I think.

I will add, though, that "living full measure" also includes (for me at least) a lively imagination (to which memory is also related): "At its most basic, every memory recall is imagination, because memories are reconstructed every time they are retrieved." [Davies, Jim. Imagination: The Science of Your Mind's Greatest Power (p. 19). Pegasus Books. Kindle Edition.]

Quote from Cassius

(not to spoil the plot, but the lead character ends up dead)