Notes and What I Learned From: Philosophy as a Way of Life - the essay "Philosophy as a Way of Life"

This is the last part of my lengthy review of Hadot's book Philosophy as a Way of Life. In the last essay of the book, Hadot makes a final summary of his main thesis: that philosophy was always to be lived!

He begins with a lengthy passage from Philo of Alexandria, who explains the many ways a lover of wisdom practices his craft. I won't copy it here, but you can find the entire passage on line at this site: https://www.earlychristianwritings.com/yonge/book28.html (scroll to the section THE FIRST FESTIVAL and begin reading from passage (44)).

The point that stands out foremost is that "during this period, philosophy was a way of life." (p. 265). We moderns are only now beginning to grasp this important concept, mainly due to the fact that the medieval Church threw philosophy into a chamber and locked her up in an academic prison! Later in the chapter, Hadot briefly explains this timeline. But during the ancient times, philosophy was viewed as a total way of being, thinking and living in the present instant, "the goal of which was to achieve a state practically inaccessible to mankind: wisdom" (p. 265). A bit further down the page, Hadot elaborates that being wise comprised of "peace of mind (ataraxia), inner freedom (autarkeia) and [possessing] a cosmic consciousness."

Indeed, there are the three parts of philosophical discourse, which are leveraged to learn and teach philosophy (physics, logic, ethics), but when it comes to embodying philosophy as a way of life, these are "no longer a theory divided into parts, but a unitary act" (p. 267). We are to embody and live logic, physics and ethics in the ever-present now. Our thoughts and speech are logical; our perspective assumes a cosmic consciousness and our actions are ethical and just. As Epictetus taught, "A builder doesn't come forward and say, 'Listen to me as I deliver a discourse about the builder's art,' but he acquires a contract to build a house, and shows through actually building it that he has mastered the art" (Discourses 3.21, v. 4 see this post).

In order to orchestrate the three parts of theory and discourse into a single, constant act of living, one must be ever-present and pay constant attention to his thoughts, and actions. "In order to realize this state of attention ... a number of exercises [are] necessary: intense meditation on fundamental dogmas, the ever-renewed awareness of the finitude of life, examination of one's conscience, and, above all, a specific attitude toward time" (p. 268).

From there, Hadot outlines how ancient Hellenistic philosophy became embedded into Christian philosophy, and was then relegated, first to monasteries and later universities, where it was enslaved into a "purely theoretical and abstract activity" (p. 270). She was finally liberated from this bondage by Descartes, Spinoza, Malebranche and Leibniz. A second wave of philosophical academics re-entrenched philosophy in the university, with the exceptions of Nietzsche and Schopenhauer. Hadot quotes Schopenhauer who wrote: 

Generally speaking, university philosophy is mere fencing in front of a mirror. In the last analysis, its goal is to give students opinions which are to the liking of the minister who hands out the Chairs. . . . As a result, this state-financed philosophy makes a joke of philosophy. And yet, if there is one thing desirable in this world, it is to see a ray of light fall onto the darkness of our lives, shedding some kind of light on the mysterious enigma of our existence.

Towards the end of the essay, he gives three examples from ancient times, of people who were true philosophers, despite writing and teaching nothing! These three were Cato of Utica, the Roman statesman Rutilius Rufus and Quintus Mucius Scaevola Pontifex. All three were Stoics who exemplified and embodied the philosophy and earnestly endeavored "to live in accord with cosmic reason" (p. 272).

Finally, the last two points from this essay are important reminders, no matter which philosophy we subscribe to. Hadot observes that since there were so many philosophical schools in the ancient world, we are afforded the opportunity to see how each of their perspectives play out in the real world. And lastly, wisdom must always be viewed from a "cosmic dimension" in that we must think cosmically, act cosmically and always keep in mind that we are parts belonging to the Whole. Hadot quotes Seneca yet again, with his reminder that one must live with all his being in the world - toti se inserens mundo. And related to this cosmic perspective is the fact that we enjoy this existence with fellow cosmopolitans. Philosophy was "practiced in a group" and each and every day, today, we live and practice some form of philosophy. Virtually everything we do stems from some philosophical idea. All of these ideas eventually aimed at "having an effect on ... cities, transforming society, and serving their citizens" (p. 274).

In sum, a lived philosophy is one which equips the individual with the capacity to maintain inner peace and equanimity, while reminding him of the freedom he possesses, coupled with the responsibility and duty to his environment and fellow cosmopolitans, while always maintaining the perspective of the Cosmos.

Notes and What I Learned From: Philosophy as a Way of Life - the essay "The Sage and the World"

Hadot frames the problem with a quote from Bernard Groethuysen:

The sage's consciousness of the world is something peculiar to him alone. Only the sage never ceases to have the whole constantly present to his mind. He never forgets the world, but thinks and acts with a view to the cosmos.... The sage is a part of the world; he is cosmic. He does not let himself be distracted from the world, or detached from the cosmic totality.... The figure of the sage forms, as it were, an indissoluble unity with man's representation of the world (p. 251)

Not only do we see a constant assent and acceptance of the world and cosmos as it is, but the Stoic sage would go as far as assuming a "fundamental attitude" of a "joyful 'Yes!'" And as mentioned before, Seneca endorses this viewpoint with his toti se inserens mundo, which implies not only saying 'yes' to existence, but then to throw oneself into the mix of it all. This is no half-cocked commitment, rather it admonishes total allegiance and resolve to live the best life possible for oneself.

With this frame in mind, Hadot observes that for modern man, "the quantitative universe of modern science is totally unrepresentable" and that people may not feel at home in the cosmos and even experience loneliness. How do we help people transcend this delineation and come to feel at home in the universe, as the ancients once did? The path of wisdom and philosophy suggests a few answers.

Everyday Perception

While science may cause us to feel dizzy and confused, we still have access and control over how we choose to perceive the world. Regardless how the scientist or astronomer comes into scientific contact with the world, he still can observe and contemplate a sunrise or sunset. On this point, the predecessors of the Existentialists based their thought and focus on phenomenology. Hadot nods to Husserl and Merleau-Ponty, by noting that science is simply a "secondary expression" to actually experiencing the world. Simply observing, and experiencing the world and attempting to rediscover it as it exists, is one way for modern man to begin to reclaim his home in the cosmos. Hadot aptly sums, "philosophy is nothing other than this process by means of which we try 'to relearn to see the world.'" Later, he cites Bergson and how he argues artists are exemplars in seeing the world. "When they look at a thing, they see it for itself, and no longer for them." Stated differently, phenomenology in practice is an intentional endeavor to see and describe the world as it is. In Stoic terms, this is one of the practices of the discipline of assent. When we see the world as it is, we pause our value judgements, and try to see events and things as they are.

Aesthetic Perception

Beyond everyday perception and attempting to see things as they are, we can further advance our practice by contemplating how we perceive things and then to convert our attention into full participation with Nature.  Hadot cites the German-Swiss artist Paul Klee who noted the artist as having a dialogue with nature and see himself as as part of the Whole. Hadot writes, "there is the fact that we plunge our roots into the same soil, and that we share a common participation in the cosmos. This means that the artist must paint in a state in which he feels his unity with the earth and with the universe" (p. 255).

Speaking of a "gigantic Tintoretto in Venice" Cézanne described how it made him feel. He said Tintoretto's painting shows how "the earth and the sea, the terraqueous globe, are hanging above people's heads" and how "the horizon is moving off into the distance; the depth, the ocean distances, and bodies are taking flight, an immense rotundity, a mappamundi; the planet is hurled, falling and rolling in mid-ether!" Then Cézanne noted how he had the same "cosmic obsession" and how he wants to "lose [himself] in nature, to grow again with her, like her" (p. 256).

As an observation and related note to this, one modern theory of being, not dissimilar to Stoic physics and panpsychism, is that the universe in which we live is a simulation, and the player or programmer of the simulation is simply living in each of us, attempting to experience as many branches as possible. And perhaps, as part of this participation, each of us are doing what is programmed in us: to participate and create, thus closing the loop, or perhaps creating a new loop for future generations to enjoy.

New Spectator

Perceiving the world with fresh eyes is to see the world philosophically.  Hadot rightly notes how Seneca seemingly strips a veil from his eyes and glances on the world anew and in that process experiences "stupefaction" as if "seeing [this world] for the first time" (Letter 64). Hadot also notes a similar sentiment from an Epicurean philosopher. These evidences point to how the ancients similarly saw the same "paradox and scandal" we see today: "man lives in the world without perceiving the world" (p. 258). In other words, we proverbially shut our eyes to the phenomena of existence! We mindlessly go about turning our perception of the world into standard operating procedures, through "worry, quarrels, social rituals, and conventional values" (p. 258). Sadly, we hardly take time to pause, reflect, step back and look up, around, beneath us and wonder.

Thankfully, we have a solution to this problem.  We are both the perpetrators of not perceiving, as well as the remediators of seeing the world with a fresh perspective. Hadot argues "we must separate ourselves from the 'everyday' world in order to rediscover the world qua world" (p. 258). In brief, this spiritual exercise consists of stopping to smell the roses! Instead of rushing off to your next meeting, meander a bit, pause, look up, around and on the ground and simply observe. Contemplate the nature of existence; be in touch with the world around you; appreciate the moment.

As I write this passage, it is February 6, 2026 and the sunshine is pouring down on the earth and it feels like a fresh spring day with the air temperature at 75 degrees - perfectly comfortable. On days like these, I am transported back to my 5 year-old self when it was just me and my mom at home. Often, I would go outside to play. Even then, as a young child, the freshness of the world made such a strong impression on me. I can recall the buzzing of bees around the honey boards my dad hung on the side of the garage. I can see a bee land on one of those holes and poke its tiny body in the board. I can feel the fresh, cool grass and the lumps in our lawn from all the apricot pits from the trees in our yard. I can smell the fresh dirt and spot a pea pod in the garden. I can taste the sweet peas after cracking open the pod and spilling the little green balls into the palm of my hand. The fresh, plump, deep-red raspberries hang on prickly stems, then I pick them off one by one, and taste the earthy scent and feel seeds stuck between my teeth. I can still hear the grind of the seed mill 4 blocks from our home and I can see a white line drifting across the sky, as a jet makes its way to some unknown destination. When I stop and purposefully observe and slow down, I think this is what Hadot and others meant by becoming a new spectator of the world.

This Moment is Eternity

Looking on the world and cosmos as a new spectator, in a sense, freezes time. This very instant and moment helps us to dive entirely into the cosmos and experience the entirety of Nature. The more time we spend looking at the world anew, in our present moment, the more we begin to see Nature as it is. We separate ourselves from the future and the past, and we only see an ever-present Now. Doing so helps us to seize the day and live each moment and each day to its fullest. As Hadot notes, "concentration on the present instant implies the suspension of our projects for the future. In other words, it implies that we must think of the present moment as the last moment, and that we live each day and each hour as if it were our last" (p. 259). 

By coming into contact, intensely, with the present moment, we focus our perception on this current link in a long line of links which span time immeasurable from past to future. When we see the world now, and contemplate the present instant, we begin to appreciate the entirety of the cosmic project. And to be sure, whether tomorrow, or next week or next decade, we can return to this present moment in an "ever-renewed effort" (p. 261) to practice living and being present in the eternal Now. And by perceiving the world, we simultaneously "perceive our unity with the world."