the ravages of idealist perspectives.
I was heavily conditioned ("Pavloved") in such self-ravaging perspectives growing up, and they were reinforced over and over -- by family, culture, religion -- throughout my adulthood. [I sometimes think that such conditioning is like a years'-long slow hypnosis, with deeply embedded, subconscious, post-hypnotic triggers.] It took a long time -- and some wise counsel -- to begin to overcome them. I still get caught up sometimes.
Thanks for this! 
From a poem I wrote a couple of years back, entitled “Democritus Ridens.” (The quotes I posted above were the epigraph for the poem.)
He taught the world is round, fashioned of atoms whirling
in space -- that cheerfulness is a flourishing fountain
of health, a natural spring to cure our fevered fears.
Plato hated him: too much mirth, too little divine.
Epicurus, with liberating swerve, welcomed him
-- and all us commoners -- into his pleasant garden.
Now this amiable sage lampoons my gravity,
pretentious habits of self-baiting guilt and despair,
glancing askance in amusement from his portrait perch --
with an anachronistic plume-feather in his cap.
My plea, on this day weighing down like an iron sigh:
“O Philosophus Ridens, enlighten me to laugh!”
~ ~ ~
Coda:
Let us offer to those who suffer daily travail
at least the respite of cheerfulness: a festive inn,
however rustic, along the wearying long road—
_______________________________
“Plume feather”: reference to a reproduction I have of a painting by Jacob Duck (c. 1600-1667), titled “Laughing Democritus Seated Next To A Terrestrial Globe”
"A book of verses underneath the bough,
a jug of wine, a loaf of bread--and thou
beside me singing in the wilderness--
Oh, wilderness were paradise enow!"
This was a treasured statement of our philosophy when my wife and I lived a more simple life (for 15 years) in what I called our "widly garden'": growing vegetables in the kitchen garden, cutting and splitting wood for winter, planting fruit trees, gathering blackberries and wild cherries -- and my wife's homemade wine. Doesn't seem pessimistic at all to me.
But, re the Khayyam quote, I always thought Epicurus might have quipped: "Why are you in a wilderness? Are their no civilized gardens around?" 
I wonder if this is an echo of Democritus.
Philosophus Ridens: the Laughing Philosopher.
"Best is for a person to live a cheerful life as little distressed as possible."
"A life without festivity is a long road without an inn."
--Democritus
And among some prominent contemporary Christian groups, it is not just ancient history (if they have their way).
Welcome.
I am far too much a natural introvert (which I embrace, after years of living a -- for me -- deeply stressful extroverted life, especially my work-life: work that I was good at, but which took a toll in both physical health and any mental serenity) to "run" an Epicurean anything. Or enjoy more than a brief visit to even "the sweetest kind" of bed and breakfast. But I can see that it could be both a noble and a pleasurable venture.
(And I'm w Cassius on the nudist colony!).
I recently acquired a chain bracelet engraved with the words "Memento Mori." I know this is a phrase generally adopted by and associated with the Stoics. But, for me, it is a simple reminder to enjoy the simple pleasures and enjoyments -- and to choose happiness -- now; especially when I am on the edge of succumbing to stress, anxiety, anger, etc. -- which I have long been prone to do (along with getting caught in loops of endless overthinking). I pair "memento mori" with "laetus nunc es": be happy now.
"The sweetest kind of life"!!! 
I'd to imagine him dancing happily and joyfully in the garden.
I think sometimes we might get caught up in the notion of philosophy involving only mental exercise: study and discussion, thoughts on how to apply a hedonic calculus (or a "virtue calculus" for the Stoics), mind-focused meditation practices (and practices to "condition the mind," as Nate says), etc. The physical comes up more in terms of food and drink, sometimes sex, maybe taking a walk in nature.
But physical exercise can be free (unconditioned) in practice -- and as a practice. Socrates thought that spontaneous dance was the best exercise. As a youth, I did wild, free-form dancing after discovering Zorba the Greek. Later, in middle age, I practiced Tai Chi (very form oriented as a moving meditation). Then I discovered Tandava Yoga, which is like s free-form Qigong (no postures/asanas or prescribed movements) -- and which can be done in a very light way, like Tai Chi -- in which you breathe and allow your body to move as it wishes (that, in itself, is a kind of discipline). I find that I enjoy that very much (as well as, still, the occasional spontaneous dancing).
As Alan Watts once said: "The point is sometimes to go out of your mind -- so you can come to your senses" (rough quote from memory). I have also discovered Laughter Yoga (without the need for jokes, or funny thoughts or gestures).
My problem is a tendency to get lost in my head. Pleasurable, non-directed physical practices are helpful -- once I remember to engage them. 
Thanks so much!
As I contemplate it (not much, but sometimes) in my elder years now, I find that I am not afraid of death either. {Emphasis on that word "find" -- it doesn't really feel like a decision: I just find myself in agreement with Epicurus; but maybe I have internalized his teaching on the subject as just plainly making sense.}
______________________
EDIT: But I just recalled some lines I wrote a few years ago --
How tragic for the the single flame to fear
annihilation in the larger fire,
or waterdrop to be afraid to fall
again into the vastness of the sea.
______________________
Or maybe just "nothing, nothing, nothing -- nothing at all..." (With apologies to Archibald MacLeish, "The End of the World".) And thus nothing to fear ...
Welcome.
I recall that Haris Dimitriadis wrote in his book about neurotransmitters and chemical responses underlying pleasure/happiness. Here is a visual that I found along the way:
Here is a quick sketch of something less "woo-woo" -- though it leaves a lot out and would be open to hearing feedback or additional ideas for labels, etc. And may need to show how to integrate of feelings, emotions, sensations, desires, etc.
Epicurean chakras! 
Display MoreI'm experimenting with short, evocative prose passages as a way to outline and explain certain aspects of the philosophy, á la Marcus Aurelius or "Zen Flesh, Zen Bones". Here is an early effort.
_____________________
When the tyrant Polycrates desired to bring water to his city, the geometer Eupalinos excavated a tunnel through the heart of a mountain, instructing his crews to dig from both ends at once. The tunnel was finished many years later when the workmen met in the middle.
If it is springwater that will slake your thirst–if the end of life is buried under a mountain–summon the geometers. But if you seek instead a sound mind, soothed by pleasure and untroubled by fear, go to the garden of Epicurus. Leave geometry at the gate, and enter. Does death frighten you? He will teach you to smile at it. Do the gods disturb you? He will instruct you in the blessings of real peace.
Enter, friend, and be healed.
Essentially a western "haibun": a prose section capped by a brief poetic fragment -- which would be a haiku in the Japanese form. But I like the notion of doing it without trying to adhere strictly to the Japanese aesthetic. (I've tried it using a brief couplet, but this works at least as well, using the Epicurean epigram.) Well done!
A Small Ode to Epicurus
You have welcomed us all to your Garden,
no matter the gender or class.
Pleasantness you offer - with simple fare,
friendship, tranquility and ease.
We can leave our burdens in the byway
with the clutch of traffic and dust,
find respite in a homey oasis
whose invitation is open,
conveying conviviality, peace,
and time to draw a common breath;
to relish the freshening fragrance
of lemons, marjoram and sage;
cool water or bloodred wine, rough brown bread,
salad greens, dark olives and cheese:
unadorned pleasures, sans the toil and strain
of over-fed extravagance;
lively talk of philosophy, laughter
at nagging follies we once learned
from our elders by strictest rote - and fear.
Under your eaves, we can relax:
embrace the evolving turnstile seasons,
heartbeat of the earth, rain and sun;
celebrate the fullness of the senses
and feelings that inform our way.
Under your eaves, we can abide: happy
in the naturalness of ourselves.
~ ~ ~
You have welcomed us all to your Garden,
which we now carry with us as we go …
A rather sage therapist friend of mine (who both helped me through a really rough patch, and helped me to look into myself), said that anger and fear arise from the survival/defense response - fight, flight or freeze. And thus, in appropriate context, can be very helpful emotions. This seems to me to accord with your analysis here - of "natural anger".
But, partly through layers of socialization, many of our emotions can become maladapted: anxiety over future events that may never come to pass, anger at perceived slights, and the like.
The trick is to recognize the difference. And to practice "calm and awareness" before we get caught up, so that it is available to us when needed. (Still working on that ...) I have sometimes used a simple gesture: raising my hand in a ward-off position - just like a batter stepping out of the box - and sometimes actually say to myself "step out." If in the company of others, I might make the gesture very slight as to be unnoticeable (but I still feel it). The idea is just to create some mental/emotional space. (But, as I say, still working on it all ...)
as I recall Marcus Aurelius wrote a passage about dragging his butt out of bed in the morning.
Ah yes. But my pleasure-loving self enjoys those long, half-asleep morning-moments. (The Epicurean versus the Stoic?)
As Theodore Roethke wrote:
"I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow."
(Funny how that line is embedded in my memory ... 
)
Unfortunately, none of us may be "average." So I think that Kalosyni is right: we need to pay attention to our own (possibly variable) rhythms. My wife is sure that I operate on something like a 23 hour cycle, and so adherence to clock-time doesn't work for me. Sometimes I'm up till the wee hours; sometimes I'm in bed at "dark-thirty." It's a bit like my ADHD: I've learned that the worst I can do is fight it. Following nature is also following my own nature, as best I can.
Oh, and I do like naps!
