Posts by Pacatus

Quote from Cassius

The issue of the actual physical existence of the Epicurean gods does not seem to me to be essential to any of those positions.

In my humble view, that seems exactly right. And that in itself removes fear of the gods (or personified Fate, or hellfire, etc.). My understanding is that Epicurus was not interested in either physics or metaphysics per se --- but only in understandings that led to a pleasurable/ pleasant life of happy well-being.

And although it perhaps should not be taken too dogmatically, the old maxim about absence of evidence not being evidence of absence would also seem relevant here. Especially given the apparent difficulty in defining the exact lineaments of such putative gods.

I think there are clearly feedback loops between the physical and the mental. But your chocolate cake example illustrates behaviors that may well become addictive, mask the mental pain, but ultimately create for pain/suffering themselves.

Although most of us are aware of psychosomatic responses that feed from the mental to greater physical health and well-being, it can also work the other way around. Non-stressful exercise for example -- walking, yoga, tai chi, laughter yoga (which starts with the physical rather than thoughts of funniness or good humor, but seems to feed fairly quickly -- 10 to 20 minutes -- into mental pleasure as well; the body enjoys laughing). Certain physical activities produce physical pleasure that fairly quickly translates into mental pleasure. I have personally found that physically stimulating the laughter response (e.g., by fluttering my diaphragm to simulate laughter) soon gets me to actually laughing, and becoming more cheerful. Norman Cousins famously testified to the reverse feedback (mental pleasure to physical pleasure), when laughing at funny movies for 20 minutes or so gave him hours of pain-free sleep.

I came across the following awhile back. Maybe it will be helpful:

When I was 50, my wife and I mostly retired from the marketplace to what we called our "wildy garden": 20+ acres of forest, field and a quick-water creek; we lived in a 1940s cottage. We grew many of our own vegetables, planted fruit trees, and the like. We lived there for 15 years. We were far from our families and most of our close friends. Though occasionally they would come to visit, mostly we were on our own. (My wife did return to part-time teaching for a few years, and I did most of the household chores.) But we have always been best friends, and easy together.

Our main two Yule/winter solstice traditions then were to make a meal together for taking time over, and to "throw wishes on the fire." We had a good, stout fireplace (I enjoyed splitting a lot of wood each fall), and I would make a concoction of spices and alcohol - usually brandy or rum. We would throw spoonsful into the flames, watch them flare up, and laugh.

Since moving from the country to the town, we will make the place cozy (as Kalosyni said), with our enclosed gas fireplace and some electric candles (no open flames allowed in our apartment). We will visit some of her family for a few hours on Christmas eve. On Christmas day, we will make a meal together for taking time over - and will make a few lighthearted toasts. And be grateful for our happiness together.

Be well, all.

Thank you for this thread. My comments fold some of what I've absorbed reading this with thoughts I'd already come to.

First, I identify as an introvert. I learned long ago the definition of an introvert as someone who tends to replenish their energy more in solitude than with others, though they may still find great pleasure in the company of others - especially friends. I have known extroverts who, being the opposite sort, found much alone-time to be tiring. Except for a few on the hard edges of the spectrum, most of us likely find ourselves in some range of "ambiversion."

I enjoy measures of both solitude and company. That is just part of my personal hedonic calculus.

Similarly for tranquility (atarxia) and other pleasures. I can experience tranquillitas alone and in the company of others. And I don't find it in conflict with other pleasures, any more than I find the pleasure of a good afternoon nap in conflict with the pleasure of a glass of wine. And tranquility, for me, does not imply stillness - just a non-turmoiled mind. I can experience tranquility in meditation as well as while watching an exciting sports event. again, it's just all part of my personal hedonic calculus - lesson which has taken a long time to learn.

I find in Epicureanism, as I understand it thus far, a kind of relaxation - perhaps like letting out a long sigh - that I do not find in, say, Stoicism or Zen. Though the path does take practice, it does not seem to be a gritting-of-the teeth sort. That's why, in part, that I decided to revisit it.

Thank you, Martin.

Thanks, Cassius. It likely fits my "hypertexting mind" as well.

As best as I can recall, my introduction to Epicurus was DeWitt’s book, picked up randomly (or perhaps intuitively) from a library bookshelf. Next was Avraam Koen’s Atoms, Pleasure, Virtue: The Philosophy of Epicurus. I have since read others, including Catherine Wilson and Hiram Crespo; I have Cassius Amicus Elemental Epicureanism, which I am just beginning to delve into.

I just consider myself an explorer. [I have also read (strictly as an interested layperson) in Stoicism and Pyrrhonism. And some Wittgenstein.] I keep coming back to Epicurus both because of its “sensibleness” (double meaning intended) and its ability, thus far, to bring me back from turmoil to both pleasantness and calm.

I am an introvert who values a few friends. I do not take introversion as a problem: just a natural part of who I am—the same with my ADHD, which has benefits as well as constraints (I reject the “disorder” of that final “D”). I handle solitude well, but am not hermit. I am not a “joiner” by nature, and dislike anything that smacks of puritanism—in the sense of condemning further inquiry. I dislike strident argumentativeness.

The best model of a nurturing group environment that I have experienced was in 12-Step meetings, where direct cross-talk and criticism were discouraged—but where people shared often divergent viewpoints from their own experience, with an intimacy born of being in a safe environment. Lessons thus learned were indirect, rather than direct. More direct learning came from a sponsor, whom was freely chosen. It was a mutually nurturing friendship among people who might seldom meet outside that context.

I do not know if I “belong” here. But it seems a good place to continue exploring.

To borrow a phrase from Hemingway, I tend to see the Garden as “a moveable feast.”