On Abandonment

"Nothing veils a star" (Aurelius, book 11, chapter 27) and we too, should confront existence with no intermediary. Indeed, we are "thrown into existence" (Aho, 2023) and in that existence, we immediately are encumbered with veils in the forms of pre-conceived meaning, religious and philosophical shackles, genetic predispositions, cultural responsibilities and expected duties. Many of these veils were placed there by our parents. Some of us willingly accepted the veils, while others of us have been figuring out ways to cast them off in order to see existence clearly and with our own eyes. Fortunately, for some, the beginning of the un-veiling takes place in the form of abandonment.

Abandonment can take a couple of forms. Whereas an individual relied on some notion for guidance, and that concept or belief failed to prove accurate or useful, then that person experiences abandonment in the form of broken trust. The other form of abandonment would be pure and simple subtraction of an idea, a person or a belief. Sometimes a single event of abandonment may fit both descriptions.

Abandonment may trigger fear and anxiety, or perhaps instill confidence. Regardless, the opportunity for growth and resilience are present with each abandonment, in that the definition and clarity of existence moves from low-fidelity to a higher fidelity until one can, eventually, comprehend existence as it is.

When Nietzsche declared the death of God, he was observing what had already transpired in the hearts of men for quite some time - that "God may have been an illusion, but ... a necessary illusion" (Gravil & Addis, 2007, p. 21). While God supplied aim, values, emotional relief and fortitude and even a future, the lived experience of man could not be fully supported by those dogmas. What he was taught on Sunday did not fully equip him on Monday, Tuesday, or any other day of the week. God abandoned man. Truthfully, however, all along, God was a creation of man and man abandoned that creation. Even for the Christian Kierkegaard, God could not be objectively ascertained (2007). Therefore, while some men may proclaim God is alive and well, he nonetheless must admit that his experience is one of faith and, at best, a belief, else eight billion people might agree on the definition and objectivity of God like they agree the sun shines.

All people must be abandoned or experienced abandonment. If they have the will to live and exist, each abandonment yields a stronger, sharper existence. While some abandonments are temporary, and others are permanent, with each successive sense of isolation, the individual is forced to use his own devices or seek help from others in his sphere - he must swim, or sink. His use of his rational thinking and volition (what is 'up to him') is what he must rely on if he is going to swim.

Below are a few reflections of milestone-abandonments, from my life, and how I dealt with each one.

I was seemingly fortunate in my childhood to avoid abandonments. Family, community, school, church and God were all relatively stable aspects of my life. My parents did not divorce, as did many of my friends' parents in the early 1980s and 1990s. There were no attacks on my religion or religion in general for that matter. My friends and I attended church on Sundays, went to school and played sports during the week, achieved our Scout badges and awards, served our community, and generally we got along and were decent kids. I felt secure in many aspects.

Certainly with visual reminders like the image to the side (The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, 2023), my confidence in some mental and moral foundation rested in Christ. Entwined in that mental paradigm was family and community.

But despite religious reassurances, I still suffered temporary, local abandonments. Being the youngest of seven children, my older siblings all left for college while I was still in public school. Some of the older ones would come home to visit at times, and when the hour arrived for them to drive back to college, I felt an immense sense of abandonment. To this day, I feel the sting of tears in my eyes and the pain in my gut and heart as I sat on the porch and watched them pull out of the driveway, down the street and out of sight.

Leaving the nest of home to go to college and a church mission to Guatemala felt like a deeper abandonment. The structure of church and school and being with friends and like-minded people softened the blow, but despite these lifelines, the fear and anxiety of saying goodbye, first to my parents after they dropped me off at the MTC, and then later saying goodbye to my brother and sister at the San Francisco airport, en route to Guatemala City, brought a harsh new reality of feeling alone.

3000 miles away from home and 6000 miles away from my parents (who were in Prague), living in the lush highland jungles of Guatemala brough a fresh new realization of abandonment. My courage was fortified not only in Christ, but also by the words of the prophets in the scriptures and the leaders in the Mormon church, both local and global. More experienced missionaries also were a succor to my homesickness and longing for old comforts. At that time, I had not known of Seneca's toti se inserens mundo (Seneca, 2024, Letter 66) but I certainly tossed myself into the work and service in front of me. In fact, early on, while living in Zona 18 in Pinares del Norte, I was so overcome with homesickness, I took all reminders, photos and letters of my family and stuffed them in the bottom of a suitcase and vowed to never look at them until I got over these emotions. My focus and attention, directed at learning Spanish, talking to people and serving others, proved to be the solution for overcoming the sense of isolation and abandonment. And while the spiritual practices of prayer and reading scripture were helpful, it was attending to the matters at present which ultimately resolved the fear and anxiety.

If homesickness weren't enough, I also had to manage being ill in a foreign country. I don't know what it was, but a doctor informed me that I contracted a virus. Some 29 years later, all I remember is being very sick and having the worse migraine in my life. Someone made the decision to send me to a hospital and I ended up spending a night being cared for. The next day, I was released to the care of other missionaries who kept an eye on me while I made a full recovery. During that time, I met Moses Vargas, to whom I disclosed my homesickness and loneliness.  He helped me understand I was not alone and that I lived and worked and existed alongside several hundred missionaries in Guatemala. When I said my prayers at 6am, I was praying with all the other missionaries and that thought brought me comfort. It was something more real and tangible than the comfort the Holy Ghost or Christ could provide.

One good thing about abandonment is that it reveals how humans play games with humans in the name of God. When I threw myself into the work, or when Moses Vargas and others consoled me, people would reason that it was the Holy Ghost and God and Jesus who inspired me or those 'other people' to bring me comfort and support. Looking back on this, I realize they were simply imbuing social ethics with a smattering of divinity.

When a leader of the church takes credit for other people's choices and deeds in the name of God, they do so in an attempt to garner more power for the church, not necessarily for God. A relevant example of this is from Uchtdorf (2019) wherein he makes the argument that when people perform acts of kindness, they are doing so in the name of God, and more specifically the church. However, the logic does not work both ways. If the same person (e.g. a missionary or member of the church) provides service to others, the church will attempt to take the credit, but if that same person does something dishonorable in the eyes of the church (e.g. use their tithing funds to give to a soup kitchen rather than to the church), the church will deem this act as not in the name of God and may even discipline the member (e.g. excommunication). The key message from the church to the individual is this: "obey and we will take the credit and uphold you the best we can, but dissent or misalign, we disavow you and you are on your own."

This key principal, even if unspoken, is discerned more acutely after having served a mission for the church. There is significant management and stewardship of a young man or woman for the first 20 or so years of their life. There are checkpoints, interviews, and to-do items in order to keep the person on the right track. But after those first 20 or so years, you are left to your own devices to keep the program going. As long as you follow the program after serving a mission (getting married, holding callings, having kids and repeating the cycle), you will fall under the good graces of the church. But if you don't follow the program or even fit the mold of a 'good' member, you are abandoned since your usefulness to the church is no longer valuable.

For me, in 1997, I realized I was a tool for the church. My whole life had been a checklist with regular interviews to ensure I was checking off all the boxes. And then when I returned home from my mission to Guatemala, it all went silent; I was abandoned and truly left to my own devices. When you've been told how to think and how to live the first 21 years of your life and when it all goes silent, you feel lost and disoriented.

I stayed true to the program, for the most part. I dated, eventually married, and my wife and I began a family. We accepted church callings and did all the enduring to the end we could muster. Children were born, babies were blessed, family home evenings were held, church attendance was regular like a metronome. During the week, my wife raised and cared for our children, while I commuted to work in the morning, worked all day, and commuted in the evening. Dinner, playtime, reading books, watching movies, playing games, cleaning up, bed time and then repeat. If only I had read Camus early in life, perhaps I would have been better prepared for what was coming.

In his Myth of Sisyphus, Camus observes, "we get into the habit of living before acquiring the habit of thinking" (1979). A bit later in the book he describes what I eventually would feel after 10 years of living the Mormon program. "Rising, streetcar, four hours in the office or the factory, meal, streetcar, four hours of work, meal, sleep, and Monday Tuesday Wednesday Thursday Friday and Saturday according to the same rhythm - this path is easily followed most of the time. But one day the 'why' arises and everything begins in that weariness tinged with amazement" (1979). For me the 'why' was eternal life with my family and before that, I was yearning for confirmation or refinement or even sanctification. But there was no whiff of this to be found. The weariness became almost unbearable and the platitudes Mormonism offered did not outweigh the church's never-ending demands for more time, more money, more of my soul, more sacrifice on my part only for the benefit of the church. In a time when I needed support and energy or even relief, I only ever heard calls for more sacrifice. I felt abandoned. Confronted with metaphysical abandonment, I perceived that my choices were limited and I could not see any resolution other than death.

I began seeing a therapist in May 2014. She helped me see that I was enough - that existing and being there for my wife and kids and others was sufficient. And while she helped me correct some faulty value judgements I had been making, I recognized the space in which I could simply exist. I finally existed before landing on essence. Between 2014 and 2015, I deconstructed my beliefs and eventually I abandoned Mormonism, at least in my heart and mind. Never have I grown so much, emotionally, philosophically, mentally, than in those years of truly discovering myself and what my values were. I finally could choose my essence, rather than conform to what someone else decided for me.

By 2019, my wife and kids were also "out" of the church. The last time we attended services was December 2018. On a Monday in January 2019, the lay leader (bishop) came to our home, unannounced, and correctly claimed that we were less than honest about our temple recommend responses and he demanded we surrender recommends to him. This was tantamount to a slap in the face and an abject judgment of what our church thought of us after all the sacrifices in time and money we gave it. We were abandoned by our church. There were no questions about how we got to that point and there were no offers of succor to bring us back to the 'right' path. We had been fully abandoned and we could not be happier.

2020 brought a new kind of abandonment. The COVID-19 pandemic introduced isolation policies which effectively brought a type of abandonment many had never experienced before. The only people we could come in contact with were our families, and friends and neighbors at a safe distance. The days seemed long as we sat by our computers, working remotely, and watched the evening news reports of the thousands of deaths from people who succumbed to the virus as well as people who died because of isolation polices (e.g lack of medical care). Politicians and medical experts played on our fears. Panic spread as people tried to hoard supplies and many resources became scarce.

Working for an oil and gas company during the pandemic was surreal, especially when the price of oil inverted (Gaffen, 2022). Radical changes and ruthless prioritization became the norm. Many outsourcing and offshoring projects, which had only been planned for in the coming years, became a rough-shod reality. Expats living in the United States were quickly abandoned by the corporation and were hurriedly repatriated with little to no concern for safety protocols for them or their families. Normal ranking of employees, in which a very small percentage are put on improvement plans, were flipped to become tools for cutting workforce. People who had been planning to retire in an organized fashion were shamelessly forced to quit or retire early.

When things began to somewhat stabilize in late 2021 and into 2022, those who remained with the company had to begin picking up the pieces. After losing so many people, help was hard to find. Having endured multiple rounds of complaints from his staff, one manager reportedly told his group of 300 employees "no one is coming to rescue us; we have to save ourselves." I can think of no better existentialist motto than that. While some have the luxury of creating layers of security, friends, people, processes and tools around them like a cocoon, eventually all of that gets stripped away and the individual is abandoned and he realizes no one is going to live his life for him - no one is going to provide all the answers - he is on his own, so he might as well accept it and begin rescuing himself.

Toward the end of 2022, nearly two years ago from the time of this writing, my mother died and abandoned me. To be fair, I had mostly abandoned her in my mind, but not in my heart. I loved her dearly and often remember fondly my times, memories and experiences with her. Eventually I came to see her as not only my mother, but simply another human, with flaws, insecurities, her own narrative and philosophy for life. And while it was more emotional than I had expected, her passing to me brought a new-found fortitude and love for life. As I recalled her life through my perspective, I realized how much light she gave me. Whether she intended it or not, the fact remains that I have instilled in me an unending source of motivation to seek the sunny side of life because of how she raised me. A mere glance at the sun, and feeling the rays on my face, reminds me of her. I don't know if I would have had this blessing if she had not abandoned me when she died. She died November 10, 2022 and the sun still shines.

My father still lives at the time of this writing, but he inches toward his own death. After my mother passed away, my father seemed to have a tough time adjusting. On one hand, he seemed to have a new lease in life and claimed he would live to 140 years old and even verbalized aspirations of going back to college to pursues a masters degree in psychology after he heard a speech by a trained psychologist. His need for companionship endured after mother's death and every attractive woman he met, regardless of age, became the one he was going to marry. He dominated in cornhole tournaments and he loved to sing for all the other residents in the assisted living home. He spent his days visiting and trying to inspire the remaining members of The Greatest Generation. He has always sought a way to be useful and to help others. This undying zest for life has been an inspiration to me. While amusing, his fight to continue to live and exist even to the age of 140, teaches me to also fight for meaning and existence. This passion for life is even more extraordinary knowing that his father psychologically abandoned him through anger and lack of conveying love and care to my father. Alas, my father, too, will pass; life will abandon him and when that day comes, I'll be an orphan and know that my own death will someday arrive.

All experience abandonment, even the Christian god Jesus. As Camus (1956) writes in The Rebel, even the son of God experienced the most exquisite abandonment. Believing he was solving two of mankind's greatest problems, evil and death, after he hung on the cross in agony and in utter despair, Christ came to conclude that all are abandoned no matter the divinity, luxury or privilege. Hence he gut-wrenchingly yells out the lama sabactani (see Matthew 27) and is awestruck at his total and complete isolation. Camus sardonically notes Christ's "agony would have been mild if it had been alleviated by hopes of eternity" (1956). When I read this passage a few weeks ago, it struck my like a lightening bolt. I imagined Jesus experiencing an unexpected and panicked brush with reality. After having believed his own message for over 30 years, he came to realize that he too would suffer the same fate that billions before and after him experienced. He was not who he claimed to be. No one is immune from abandonment.

Since we are all abandoned, we must all stand on our own. No one is going to fully live your life for you. You must seek out your own meaning and purpose, especially when you come to find out that no one knows what this absurd existence really means. If you come from GenX, like me, you will probably never forget the message from Dead Poet's Society (Wier, 1989): carpe diem! Seize control of your life! Make your own meaning! Exist since no one else will nor can exist for you.

In conclusion, I leave this thought and quote which conveys the idea of: no one has found an instruction manual for life and you're on your own.

The problem for Kierkegaard is entwined with our fundamental abandonment in freedom. Man is a free project: which is to say that there is no ‘world-historical’ source of instruction and no pellucid God-ward imperative. In what concerns us most deeply we are thrown back on our own decision. The speculative reason says, Kierkegaard, cannot help us in the matter of existence, for to speculative reason, existence ‘is a matter of infinite indifference’. Furthermore, I am utterly alone in my plight (Gravil & Addis, 2007, p. 47).

References

Aho, K. (2023, January 6). Existentialism. Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy; Stanford University. https://plato.stanford.edu/entries/existentialism/

Aurelius, M. (2021). Meditations (R. Waterfield, Trans.). Basic Books.

Camus, A. (1956). The rebel : an essay on man in revolt (A. Bower, Trans.). Alfred A. Knopf.

Camus, A. (1979). The Myth of Sisyphus (J. O’Brien, Trans.). Penguin Books. (Original work published 1955)

Gaffen, D. (2022, February 24). Analysis: Oil’s journey from worthless in the pandemic to $100 a barrel. Reuters. https://www.reuters.com/business/energy/oils-journey-worthless-pandemic-100-barrel-2022-02-24/

Gravil, R., & Addis, M. (2007). Existentialism (1st ed.). Humanities-Ebooks, LLP.

The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. (2023). You Are Never Alone. Churchofjesuschrist.org. https://www.churchofjesuschrist.org/media/image/mormonad-you-are-never-alone-4a54532?lang=eng

Seneca. (2024).  Ad Lucilium Epistulae Morales. Uchicago.edu. https://artflsrv03.uchicago.edu/philologic4/Latin/navigate/129/7/4/

Uchtdorf, D. F. (2019). “You Are My Hands.” Churchofjesuschrist.org. https://www.churchofjesuschrist.org/study/general-conference/2010/04/you-are-my-hands?lang=eng#p1

Weir, P. (Director). (1989). Dead poets society [Film]. Touchstone Pictures.

From Shipwreck to Fire

Remembering Heraclitus: Themes

If the dry, fiery soul is the wise, “enlightened individual” (Sweet, p. 59, 2007), then the damp, wet, or even drenched soul needs genuine, philosophical insight. And how curious to encounter this footnote in Remembering Heraclitus: “Ortega y Gasset in his Loss of Self in Art suggests that the philosophic impulse arises from ‘feeling shipwrecked upon things’” (Geldard, p. 96, 2001). The image is striking: a sopping-wet captain and his crew attempting to flee their ship that has crashed on craggy rocks! How far from being dry are those souls and in that sinking moment, when lives and fortunes are ruined, they are left wondering what has become of them. What twisted turn of events in navigation, reading bearings, and accounting of weather did they go afoul? They have become shipwrecked and now the process of recovery and the path to dryness and even fire begins – their first impulse to philosophy commences.

Perhaps the analogy can be further considered. Will the shipwrecked crew try again? Will they take the lessons they learned to heart to avoid a future shipwreck, or even despite their best efforts to avoid misfortune, will they nonetheless run aground unforeseen shallow rock? Is this never-ending cycle of flux their fate? Do their daimons lead them down this looping path to the point that their fate defines their character? And lastly, if they are to tread the endless path of flux, do they ever stop and wonder what their purpose is – what their telos is? Perhaps, like Zeno of Citium, a shipwreck offers transcendence and brings deep and fundamental discernment to the unfortunate soul, thus revealing their telos, and they never return to their former endeavor (see Long, p. 109, 1986). Is misfortune truly fortune? This essay will ruminate on these questions using Richard Geldard’s Remembering Heraclitus (2001) as the backdrop for the discussion.

Your Character is your Daimon

Fragment 119 is translated in various ways. Geldard (2001) notes that most translators translate it as “character is fate.” Sweet’s (2007) translation is “one’s character is one’s divine fortune” while Robinson’s (1991) is “a person’s character is his fate (divinity). As for Geldard (2001), he translates it as, “for human beings, character is the divine force.” There is a spectrum of interpretations for how one may grasp the meaning of this fragment. We may suppose our fate is entirely out of our hands and we seemingly resign ourselves to the fates the gods have doled out to us. Or we may interpret this fragment as a declaration of our freedom in which we get to control our attitude, narrative, and volition – we are the authors of our character. Geldard reviews various analyses of this fragment, one of which represents both ends of the spectrum as one and the same.

We have no say in the matter of which life we are thrown into. We don’t get to weave our DNA and choose our parents, nor even choose the best traits and aspects of our parents. In fact, we may even be chained with generational baggage, emotions, and “debt” if you take an Eastern philosophical view of the matter (see Geldard, p. 89, 2001). From this perspective of the fragment, our daimon is exerting destiny and fate upon us the moment our cells begin to replicate. But that is only one side of the coin, to reference the analogy Geldard uses. The other side of the coin represents the “so what?”

The character Andy Dufresne from Shawshank Redemption (Darabont, 1994) faced stacked odds against him, but how he responded to his fate (his daimon) ultimately defined his character. Indeed, our fate or perhaps our daimon, as our guardian spirit, senses the required obstacles we must face which act as catalysts for us to either succumb to defeat or to achieve a defining moment. From this side of the coin, then, we should not moan or gripe in the face of impediments, but rather we should thank the gods for showing us the way to finding our true character. As the well-known Marcus Aurelius passage teaches, regarding other people, the elements, and even wild animals, these are “hindrance[s]” and “obstacles” that indicate the “path” on which we can advance (Meditations 5, 20). In sum, our fate and impediments point the way to our character.

However, in a cosmos that never rests from change, we must be cognizant of the unending myriad of obstacles. We may think our character has been refined through the process of managing an impediment, but the reality is that the constant state of flux will demand we confront barriers endlessly.

Constant Flux

Fractals are intriguing mathematical constructs that exhibit self-similarity at different scales yet are vastly complex and ever-evolving. In other words, they are shapes that look similar or even identical depending on the focus and scale of the perspective. They're often intricate and detailed, yet they are built on simple repeating patterns or processes. Fractals can be found in nature, such as in the branching patterns of trees, the distribution of galaxies, the structure of coastlines, and even in the shape of clouds. Perhaps fractals are an apt metaphor for reality and existence as a whole: infinite, ever-changing, ever-evolving. Once set in motion, the math behind the fractal iterates and expands endlessly.

One of the major themes of Heraclitus is the nature of flux and the cause of it. According to Heraclitus, part of the process of acquiring wisdom is to be awake and conscious to comprehend “the thought that directs all things through all things” (Geldard, p. 46, 2001). Geldard then makes an interesting connection by quoting Anaxagoras who noted, “mind is infinite and self-sustaining, is unmixed, alone, and by itself …. [and] drives the whole revolution, so that it revolved initially, first in a small area and now more widely, and eventually more widely still” (p. 46, 2001). Could this description be applied to a fractal? Perhaps. And if this is the true nature of the Cosmos and as humans are intricately entwined in the details of the Cosmos, we must accept the idea that our own minds are tiny fractals in a larger fractal both of which are constantly changing and evolving and part of a massive chain which is infinite. Consider Fragment 45: “One would never discover the limits of soul, should one traverse every road - so deep a measure does it possess” (Robinson, 1991). Succinctly stated, change causes change and never ceases.

However, what does flux mean to the individual? First, the individual must heed the wisdom Heraclitus states. We must accept that change is constant and never-ending. To wail at the passing of every dead skin cell or formation of a wrinkle or to be overjoyed at the birth of a kitten or bloom of a rose is not wisdom. Implied in these overextensions of emotion is a desire for something to remain the same. A better reaction to change is to accept it and even embrace it.

Secondly, the individual must look both deeper into and take a wider perspective of the fractal. Upon further reflection of flux, and the more one becomes familiar with change, he will begin to note that there is a cyclical nature to existence. Seasons change; families shrink and grow; history seems both different, yet the same. If one becomes discerning enough, he will realize that feeling sadness or anxiety about change is folly, especially since he may have a chance to experience something anew. Spring flowers are never lost. Embracing a loved one on their death bed may seem to be final, yet sometimes we may feel we love the same soul in another person, such as the way a grandmother may have cooked a particular dinner is revealed again in the way a grandchild mimics the meal.

Lastly, for the individual facing endless change, perhaps the most important lesson for them to embrace is this: given the constant change and given the fact that the more change happens, the more we see similarity, then perhaps the long-term response to all flux and cycles is to live in harmony with the Cosmos – to live according to Nature as the Stoics would propose. One could argue that the individual should assume a long-term perspective and attitude about life. If change is constant and if we encounter repeat obstacles, then we ought to seek the choice that most aligns with the nature of existence. While an entire paper can be spent on this topic, instead of reading that essay, the reader may wish to watch and ponder two videos regarding the well-known economics game theory model called The Prisoner’s Dilemma. Video one (Agar, 2014) explains the prisoner’s dilemma, while video two explains the fascinating strategies employed while playing the game repeatedly (Agar, 2016). One, brief commentary on these videos is that the successful, long-term strategies used in iterative prisoner dilemma games are not unlike living a moral, virtuous life based on Stoic ethics.

Recurrence, to what end?

While applied ethics may be one reason to assume a long-term perspective, a related idea worth discussing would be the topic of ultimate ends for the individual. Geldard (2001) dedicates an entire chapter on telos and what we can learn from Heraclitus on this topic. This essay began by discussing philosophical and actual shipwrecks and how they are catalysts for change. The literal shipwreck must have been caused by one or many variables. Was the cause a faulty rudder, an incompetent navigator, or a lackadaisical captain, or were the elements – Nature – the sole causes of the ship crashing upon waves and rock? Were the captain and the crew completely helpless and only had God to blame for the crash? Once recovered on dry land or perhaps while drowning in the deep sea, they may have wondered: who’s in charge of all this or is it all chaos? What’s the purpose behind all this? Geldard contends that in Heraclitus’ perspective, there is “someone or something at the helm, which in turn implies a vessel with a rudder going somewhere” (p. 109, 2001). And with that implication, an aim for the individual could be found.

While Heraclitus does observe natural cycles and emphasizes constant change, he does not explicitly formulate a doctrine of recurrence or eternal return in the same way that later philosophers, like the Stoics and Nietzsche, do. However, there are a couple of gems found in Robinson (1991) and Sweet (2007) that indicate recurrence is a theme of Heraclitus and that with it, there is a heading to be found for the individual. Robinson quotes Aetius who wrote, “Heraclitus held that the recurrent fire is everlasting, and that destiny is a logos which fashions existent things through the contrariety of the directions in which they tend to run” (p. 173, 1991). Sweet, in his commentary on the themes of life, death, and the soul, discusses the dry and wet soul analogies of Heraclitus. He notes that Heraclitus proposes the soul gains power through wisdom and “becomes a dry soul” and “to the extent that it is identified with the universal fire” (p. 67, 2007). Furthermore, the truly wise person can attain such a degree of wisdom that their soul is unified with the universal fire and achieves a type of immortality. However, upon death, the wet or unwise soul turns to water and then earth and is merged into nature. While Sweet is not explicit, it could be assumed that the unwise person is reincarnated to try again, as it were.

Therefore, if it were assumed that flux is endless and recurrent and that individuals are tossed into the mix over and over again until they get it right and only when they become wise do they find an exit through unity with the universal fire, is this our answer to what our telos or aim in life is? One perspective Geldard brings into the analysis is that of Fowles. In this endless flux (what Fowles calls “The Situation”), “the only telos possible is an existential one” (p. 112, 2001). He quotes Fowles who writes, “To accept one’s limited freedom, to accept one’s isolation, to accept this responsibility, to learn one’s particular powers, and then with them to humanize the whole: that is the best … for this situation” (p. 112, 2001). In brief, one perspective is to simply accept existence as is. However, if this may seem distasteful, perhaps a more transcendental attitude of existence might invigorate life. Geldard offers the aim of unity with the Cosmos, or to be more precise, metaxy.

Fragment 10 focuses on the unity with the whole. “Seizures – wholes and non-wholes, being combined and differentiated, in accord and dissonant: unity is from everything and from everything is unity” (Sweet, 2007). Fragment 30 similarly notes, “this cosmos [the unity of all that is] was not made by immortal or mortal beings, but always was, is and will be an eternal fire, arising and subsiding in measure” (Geldard, p. 129, 2001). Geldard proposes that “the unity is the telos” of the human and that many texts from the same period of Heraclitus reflect this desire for transcendence away from the human existence Fowles describes and towards a metaxy or “in-betweenness” – a place between human existence and the Logos (p. 113-114, 2001). Geldard then reviews similarities between the teachings of the Old Testament prophet Jeremiah, the Buddha, and Lao Tse and the fragments of Heraclitus, all of which offer ideas for achieving unity.

Practice Again and Again

Since the individual finds himself in an endless flux that recurs, and his telos is to transcend into metaxy, what key lessons must he practice repeatedly to achieve his telos? Geldard notes similarities between Heraclitus and his peers of the time. The first is Jeremiah who calls the people, like a shepherd to his sheep, to “feed [on] knowledge and discretion” (p. 116, 2001). Geldard notes that this call to knowledge and discretion invokes a greater individual responsibility for people to come to God’s terms and perspective. In a similar vein, Heraclitus teaches that “to God all things are beautiful, good and just” (p. 116, 2001) and humans irresponsibly assume a narrow, closed-minded perspective. If we are to achieve our telos, we must practice abandoning our restricted point of view and practice embracing the perspective of the Cosmos.

Related to the practice of assuming a Cosmic attitude is the work of letting go of the ego and its related attachments and embracing the will of the Universe. Geldard references the Buddha’s doctrine of separating the selfish ego of one’s identity and in its place, assuming an identity equal to that of Divinity. When we cease being fearful of losing ourselves and cease the longing for fame and ego, we begin to break “the bonds of attachment” (p. 118, 2001). Heraclitus similarly admonishes in Fragment 2 that we must “obey the universal” and not be like common people who cling to their own “private understanding” (p. 119, 2001). To achieve our telos, we must practice relinquishing our selfish egos every day. Every flinch or snap judgment towards grasping at some portion of fame, or power or status should be met with practicing a desire to flow with Nature and being unified with the Nature of things.

Lastly, Lao Tse noted the tension of justice in the Universe by observing that tautness is needed for a bow to succeed. If there is no tension because the string is too long, then the string must be shortened and if there is not enough string, then it must be lengthened (see p. 120, 2001). A sage practices and demonstrates his knowledge rather than simply retaining it. True, divine understanding and judgment is not simple learning, but rather, being truly awake and aware and acting accordingly. To this end, Heraclitus teaches us to not heed him, but the Logos (Fragment 50) and that common humans do not have good judgment, but only divine judgment is good judgment (Fragment 78). Therefore, to achieve our telos, we must avoid the common and instead practice observing true wisdom. It will take skill to know when to apply a virtue and how much or how little for the right amount of tension.

Conclusion

The idea of a philosophical life beginning from a shipwreck is not novel. Many observers through the years have found the analogy quite compelling. Vidauskytė (2017) notes that not only is a shipwreck a metaphor for the initiation of a philosophical life, but that seafaring also signifies the human discontent with staying on land and the desire to transcend the human domain of land and venture out to the beyond. She rightly observes Diogenes Laertius commentary on Zeno of Citium, who survived a shipwreck and traded his lost cargo of purple dye for living a philosophical life on dry land. But not everyone’s fate is a shipwreck. Our character is defined by our fate, through the endless flux of impediments and obstacles. And sometimes, the monotony and recurring nature of existence forces us to wonder what our ultimate aim is. Perhaps after enough voyages and challenges, we arrive at true wisdom and begin to see the Cosmos as it really is – we lose our common ego and pivot to a desire to be at one with Nature. With enough practice of taking the Cosmic perspective, laying aside our ego, perhaps we achieve transcendence, return to land, and dry our soul by a flaming, wise fire.

References

Agar, J. (2014, October 4). The Prisoner’s Dilemma. Www.youtube.com. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t9Lo2fgxWHw&ab_channel=ThisPlace

Agar, J. (2016, July 2). The Iterated Prisoner’s Dilemma and The Evolution of Cooperation. YouTube. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BOvAbjfJ0x0&ab_channel=ThisPlace 

Aurelius, M. (2014). Meditations (M. Hammond, Trans.). Penguin Classics, An Imprint Of Penguin Books.

Darabont, F. (Director). (1994, September 10). The Shawshank Redemption. Columbia Pictures.

Geldard, R. G. (2001). Remembering Heraclitus. Lindisfarne Books.

Long, A. A. (1986). Hellenistic philosophy : Stoics, Epicureans, Sceptics. University Of California Press.

Robinson, T. M. (1991). Heraclitus : Fragments. University Toronto P.

Sweet, D. (2007). Heraclitus : Translation and Analysis. University Press of America.

Vidauskytė, L. (2017). Metaphor of Existence: Seafaring and Shipwreck. [Egzistencijos metafora: kelionė jūra ir laivo nuskendimas] Filosifija Sociologija., 28(1), 11-19.

Io, Saturnalia! (And the Contemplation of the Eternal Return and the Wisdom Therein)

Round and round we go. We watch the pendulum swing, back and forth. Sometimes the swing is swift and sometimes the interval takes longer, but always and everywhere it (events, history, life, death, growth, regress, etc.) repeats.

The Roman Emperor Marcus Aurelius noted this a few times in his Meditations (2014).

"a man of forty with any understanding whatsoever has in a sense seen all the past and all the future" (11.1).

This same translation of Meditations makes a note and commentary on Book 2.14, which is related to this thought. 

"see the same things: The eternal sameness of things is another frequent theme in the Meditations, taking two widely disparate forms. One (as here) derives from the belief of orthodox Stoicism, evidently accepted by Marcus, that from eternity to eternity the world goes through an endless succession of identical cycles (so that all that happens has happened before, and will happen again): see especially 9.28, and also 5.13 (and note), 5.32, 6.37, 8-6, 9.35, 10.7.2, 11.1.2, 12.26. For the doctrine of everlasting recurrence see LS, 52; Sandbach, pp. 78-9. The other is the expression of a world-weary and often dismissive view that 'there is no new thing under the sun' (Ecclesiastes 1:9) in human life, behaviour, and depravity: with a few years' experience (in 7.49 and 11.1.2 Marcus puts it at forty) you have 'seen it all'. See also 4.32, 4.44, 6.46, 7.1, 8.25, 9.14, 9.33, 10.2.7, 12.24 ('monotony and transience')" (2014).

This time of year (December to early January) usually prompts a lot of introspection for me. I reflect on the year, I try to indulge in the festivities, I recall Christmases past and I plan for the future - revisiting and revising plans, taking account of the current situation in life and evaluating options for the future, and then making course corrections as needed.

This year, as part of this introspection, I decided to research and learn a bit more about the Roman festival known as Saturnalia. While I've always known something about it, I searched for meatier content about what it was like and from whence it was formed. For this, the book entitled The Christmas Encyclopedia provides a very adequate explanation and summary.

A pre-Christian harvest and winter solstice celebration held throughout the Roman Empire in honor of Saturn or Saturnus (from the Latin satus, “to sow”), god of agriculture, who reigned during the so-called Golden Age of Rome, a time of peace and prosperity. Originally celebrated for one day on December 17, the festival under the Caesars extended through December 24, in which the spirit of gaiety and frolic prevailed, recalling that Golden Age. All work, businesses, schools, and matters of court were suspended, criminals received reprieves from punishment, war was not waged, and no humans were sacrificed to Saturn; the lighting of numerous candles in his temple symbolized such mercies.

Instead, festivities began with the sacrifice of a young pig in the temple. Each community selected a Magister Ludi (Master of the Games) or a Saturnalicus Princeps (Chief of the Saturnalia), a mock king, who supervised the feasting, revelry, singing, and dancing. He was chosen by lots, sometimes as the one who found the coin hidden in servings of pudding. Masters and slaves traded places, with masters serving their slaves, who could bid the former to perform any task and could exact ludicrous punishments should they fail to execute them. Class distinctions were suspended as well, as a spirit of humanity seized everyone to do good unto his neighbor, including dispensing money to the poor. Transvestism was common and, in keeping with the tradition of masquerades, in northern provinces, Germanic tribes often donned masks in the likenesses of horned beasts and hideous creatures, symbolic of spirits which were believed to inhabit the winter darkness.

Statues of Saturn, as well as homes, were decorated with holly, sacred to this god; with evergreen wreaths, symbolic of the sun; and with evergreen garlands, symbolic of the renewal of life at the approaching winter solstice, December 25 on the Roman or Julian calendar. (In the Christian era, these evergreens would come to symbolize eternal life through Christ.)

At the conclusion of the festival came the exchanging of gifts: signillaria (clay dolls) for the children and strenae (olive branches honoring the woodland goddess Strenia) or cerei (wax tapers or candles) for the adults.

The festivities were essentially repeated for three days at the January Calends, beginning on the first day of the new year (January 1). This was especially the time when the populace presented the emperor with votae(gifts).

Although the Saturnalia was not the sole winter solstice festival of the Roman Empire (among other festivals, a feast on December 15 honored Consus, god of the storeroom; one on December 17 honored his consort, Ops, a mother goddess), it was by far the most important in terms of its traditions and symbols, many of which the early Christian Church adopted into the Christmas season. The lighting of candles, decorating with holly and evergreens, giving of gifts (the Wise Men that visited the manger had no monopoly on gift-giving), holiday charity, and the unrestrained merrymaking all were most recently derived from the Saturnalia.

The basis for these traditions actually originated some 4,000 years before the birth of Christ in the land of Mesopotamia, which included Sumer, later corresponding to Babylonia; through northern and western routes, the customs reached Greece, Rome, and other parts of Europe. The equivalent Sumerian and Babylonian celebrations, respectively, were the Zagmuk (“Beginning of the Year”) and Akitu (“New Year's Festival”). The Sumerian festival was semiannual, held in the fall (month of Tishri) and in the spring (month of Nisan), commemorating the two principal solar points of the year (winter and summer). Akitu, however, occurred only at the first new moon after the spring equinox.

The mythology surrounding Akitu held that as the year drew to a close, the world, created by the supreme Babylonian god Marduk, lay dying. During the festival, it was traditional for the king to perform rituals to atone for any sins of man against Marduk and to assist him in battling the monsters of chaos in the underworld, acts that would restore the world of the living for another year. To begin the rituals, the king entered the temple of Marduk. There, he suffered humiliation as the high priest stripped him of his regal vestments and beat him; then the king swore annual allegiance to Marduk, after which he was reinstated as king. It is likely that the king then symbolically “sacrificed” himself by appointing a mock king in his stead from the ranks of criminals (his mock counterpart is seen in the Master of the Games of the Saturnalia and Archbishop of Fools of the Feast of Fools). This criminal was then arrayed in regal raiment and sacrificed sometime during a 12-day celebration, which consisted of feasting, socializing, and gift-giving (a parallel is seen in the 12 days of Christmas). Wooden images depicting the monsters of chaos were burned to assist Marduk in his battle for life, and such images are believed to be the earliest precursors of the Yule log.

These, then were some of the world's earliest known plans for year-end festivals, which most modern civilizations have since adapted to their own cultures. (Crump, 2013 emphasis added).

Reading the above, I am struck by the switching of roles and parts in those ancient cultures. What must it have been like to be the master of the estate, and then for the better part of a month, turn the reigns and authority over to the servants? One day you're sitting at the top, and the next you're being told what to do by the lowliest of the classes. Would our current overlords (e.g. Prime Ministers, Presidents, Senators, CEOs, business owners, Principals, Mayors, etc.) ever be willing to do the same in today's day and age? It makes for a fascinating thought experiment.  Yet, this is what the ancients did!

While it seems impractical to put this ancient ritual into practice today, there are some aspects about this ritual worth contemplating in the vein of premeditatio malorum. Those in power and those who possessed fortune had those preferred indifferents taken from them during Saturnalia. While they thought they enjoyed sound footing and an unassailable point of advantage, it was taken from them. Do we think we possess a similar position in our lives in 2023? Could the home in which I live, and the job at which I work and the salary I am paid, and the health I enjoy - could one or all of those be taken on a whim? Absolutely. All of it could be taken upon death, or some of it could be taken due to circumstances and events beyond my control.

In fact, returning to what Marcus Aurelius wrote about a man of forty seeing it all, at the age of 47, I too have seen and heard many of these events in the course of my life. I have contemplated what it must have been like for my father's father to watch his entire ranch burn down, forcing the family to practically to start all over. I've read the account of my father's mother holding her young baby, while the doctor listened to his heart slowly stop beating, saying, "now, now, now" indicating when the baby's heart stopped.

I've contemplated the tens of thousands of young men, at the young age of 20 take one step off a boat to storm a beach in some distant land and die in a split second to a bullet to the head. I've wondered what it must have been like for my father who was about to be deployed to the Pacific in 1945, but then to not have to serve because the war ended after two atomic bombs were dropped on Japan. I've wondered about the details of the story of my father's mother pleading with the officer in the army to discharge my father to help on the ranch, thus saving him from serving in the Korean War.

I've contemplated a man named Rich O'Conner, who worked for a major corporation for over 30 years, who interviewed me at the beginning of my career, and who just a few weeks before retirement, pulled into his driveway, suffered a major heart attack and died - who never fully enjoyed the fruits of his labor.

I've lived through a global pandemic and watched millions of people both die and suffer from the effects of COVID-19 as well as the effects of the vaccines administered to cure and prevent the virus. I've watched the world and culture fundamentally change in a matter of months and years due to the global lockdown from the pandemic.

I've contemplated my sister-in-law and her husband and how they lost their baby a few months after she was born, and then all the angst and anxiety they had to endure through two more pregnancies and births, wondering if the same fate would happen to those babies. I've contemplated the life of my father-in-law, who retired wealthy, but suffered from bankruptcy due to the housing crisis and great recession of 2008, and then less than a decade later, unexpectedly die at the age of 66. I've contemplated the death of my brother-in-law at the age of 49 - he was at the cusp of greatness in his career as a college professor and researcher, and a loving husband and father of four children.

I've contemplated the religion in which I grew up (Mormonism) and the debris and chaos left in its wake - the abuse they have facilitated and the lack of morals and failure in responsibility to help those women and children who suffered under the church's patriarchy. I've contemplated the unethical nature of the church's leadership in softly and harshly lying about its past and its dogmas. I've contemplated and stand in awe at an organization who preaches the gospel of Jesus regarding mankind cannot love God and Mammon both, yet it has amassed an ungodly amount of capital and assets and cash to the tune of close to $200 billion. I stand all amazed at the selfishness, corruption, egotistical and hypocritical nature of such an organization.

Perhaps I have not seen all of it, but I have seen quite a bit of it. And what do I learn from it? I learn, what I think Saturnalia is attempting to teach: that it repeats and it can happen to anyone including me. One day I could be on the up-and-up, getting ahead in my career, and the next I could be assessed down and earning less. One day I could feel safe and secure in my home, the next I could be robbed and many of my possessions taken.  One day I could be playing basketball quite healthily, the next I could be injured and forced to never play again. One day I could be fast asleep in my bed, the next I could be waking up in the middle of the night receiving a call from the police about an accident or incident my child was involved in.

Saturnalia teaches us our lots can change on a dime. However, what is 'up to us' is our attitude and reaction to said change. Could we lose status, wealth, health, loved ones and still retain our equanimity? Could we still find a way to demonstrate a good moral character despite the "losses?" To me, this seems to be a worthy challenge. We need not be stuck in mourning our losses. Grieve we may and in some cases, we must, but to remain in in such a state does not demonstrate a good moral character. The challenge is to prove to yourself you can take the misfortunes and fortunes of life and retain your equanimity. Saturnalia gave the people a chance to practice this very virtue.

And regardless of misfortune or fortune, there are opportunities to practice a good moral character. Seneca notes this of Socrates, who survived and lived under the Thirty Tyrants. In his essay On Tranquility he wrote,

Can you find any city more wretched in any way than the Athenians’ city when the thirty tyrants tore it apart? They had killed thirteen hundred citizens, all the best men, but did not make an end of it; but their sheer savagery stimulated itself. In a city which held the Areopagus, that most scrupulous of courts, in which there was a senate and a people similar to the senate, the grim college of executioners met each day, and the unhappy senate house was crammed with tyrants: could that state repose in which there were as many tyrants as there were henchmen? Their minds could not even entertain any hope of recovering their freedom, and no scope for a cure appeared against such a powerful force of evils; for how could the poor city find so many Harmodii? Yet Socrates was openly out in public life and comforted the mourning fathers and exhorted men despairing of the state, and reproached wealthy men fearing the consequences of their riches because they came too late to regret the dangers brought on by their greed; he bore himself as a mighty example for those willing to imitate him, walking as a free man among the thirty masters. But Athens herself killed him in jail, and liberty did not tolerate the liberty of the man who had safely provoked the horde of tyrants; you learn from this that even in an oppressed state there is a chance for the wise man to put himself forward, and that in a flourishing and happy state envy and a thousand other evils dominate (2014, p. 191)

Therefore, regardless of any circumstance or event or fortune or misfortune, there are ways and opportunities to practice and live with a high, good moral character (virtue) - one can exercise one's volition to demonstrate excellence.

This is it - this is life. Once you realize this is the ultimate fate we face, Saturnalia can teach you the greater lesson of recurrence. Just as this festival has been around thousands of years in some form or fashion, perhaps we have lived this same life thousands of time before or perhaps we have lived some existence in a different state or status thousands of times before. Just as roles were swapped (status, gender, form, etc.) during Saturnalia, perhaps we have lived thousands (millions?) of different roles or forms previously. And if that is the case, would you act differently with others today?  If one day you were the master of the estate, and the next day during Saturnalia, your servants were master of the estate, would that change the way you act as the master?

Another lesson recurrence and Saturnalia can teach us is the reflex of retreat to sound ground. The moment we are born, we began to die. Through the course of life, we erect layers of knowledge around us, bank accounts, homes, walls, gates, savings, 401Ks; we build our reputations and deposit good acts into our account so we can withdraw from it in times when we face ill repute. However, try as we might, we must give ground. Life advances, misfortune strikes and if our reputation and wealth do not suffer first, then our mind and body will eventually succumb to disease, age and death. Will we anxiously cling to every scrap life takes from us, or will we learn the wisdom of accepting our fate, and retreating to solid ground - the sound logic that informs us the only thing we truly possess and control is our moral character; our virtue.  All else matters not. Anyway, why cling? Saturnalia and recurrence teaches us our fate will change and if we don't like it, soon enough things return to the way they used to be. So, in the meantime - in the present moment - act with justice, wisdom, discipline and courage.

To conclude, Marcus Aurelius eloquently sums these lessons - important ideas to contemplate during this season of Saturnalia.

Even if you were destined to live three thousand years, or ten times that long, nevertheless remember that no one loses any life other than the one he lives, or lives any life other than the one he loses. It follows that the longest and the shortest lives are brought to the same state. The present moment is equal for all; so what is passing is equal also; the loss therefore turns out to be the merest fragment of time. No one can lose either the past or the future - how could anyone be deprived of what he does not possess?

So always remember these two things. First, that all things have been of the same kind from everlasting, coming round and round again, and it makes no difference whether one will see the same things for a hundred years, or two hundred years, or for an infinity of time. Second, that both the longest-lived and the earliest to die suffer the same loss. It is only the present moment of which either stands to be deprived: and if indeed this is all he has, he cannot lose what he does not have (2.14).

References

Aurelius, M. (2014). Meditations (M. Hammond, Trans.). Penguin Classics, An Imprint Of Penguin Books.

Crump, W. D. (2013). The Christmas Encyclopedia. Mcfarland & Company, Inc., Publishers.

Lucius Annaeus Seneca. (2014). Hardship and Happiness (E. Fantham, H. M. Hine, J. Ker, & G. D. Williams, Trans.). University of Chicago Press.

Phil 320 (Environmental Philosophy) - Piousness as a Deep Ecology Solution to Environmental Challenges

 Piousness as a Deep Ecology Solution to Environmental Challenges

Considering roughly one third of the world is Christian and another fourth is either Muslim or Hindu, one can argue that the majority of the world's multi-billion population is religious (Johnson, Grim 10). And given that individual beliefs yield ethics, one could argue that finding ways in which "the role religion could play as an element in solving current environmental problems" is worthy of discussion and implementation inasmuch as it could be applied to 60% of the world's population (Jackson 11).

Arne Næss – founder of deep ecology philosophy – contends that many who support the deep ecology mindset are "partly motivated by basic philosophical or religious premises and feel that all living beings have intrinsic value” (Næss 239). He further relates this religious premise to the God described by Spinoza. And given this piousness or the love of God as a starting point, one may secure for himself a deep foundation from which he builds a strong belief system which is further tied to love of self and others, including all beings and ecosystems. From this belief system, one’s ethics can be applied in several ways.

One case study from India demonstrates how a religion "emphasizes the harmony of all religions" which bolsters its mission "to help the impoverished populations of India through education, medical service, and helping small villages in the field of rural development" (Jackson 21). While its mission does not directly focus on the environment, its efforts often "co-laterally help the environment" (21). Connecting piousness as a way of life to holistic environmental solutions shows how deep ecology thinking can be applied in a broad-ranging and impactful way throughout the religious world.

The basic premise of deep ecology stems from a reaction to what Næss called the “shallow ecology movement” whose objective was to “fight against pollution and resource depletion” which essentially benefited “the health and affluence of people in developed countries” (Brennan and Lo). Deep ecology, on the other hand, sought to shift the focus away from an anthropomorphic view to an ecocentric and biocentric emphasis, whereby it recognizes the intrinsic value of all living beings and ecosystems. The “deep” aspect of the deep ecology movement is precisely about removing the anthropomorphic view of humans and placing them in a perspective of interconnectedness with all things in the world. The philosophy “asks deeper questions about the place of human life” and strives to enlighten humans to conceive of themselves “as integral threads in the fabric of life” rather than agents endeavoring to dominate the world (Bhandari 810). While Næss took great efforts to explain his philosophy, he simplified his philsophy with what he called the Apron diagram with its four levels, with one of those levels being the 8 point deep ecology platform.

In sum, the Apron diagram is a four-level framework for organizing a discussion around premises, principles, policies and actions. Level 1 represents foundational “ultimate premises, worldviews, and ecosophies” (Næss 107). It is at this level where discussions around God, ontology and other aspects of the aim of life are discussed. Level 2 covers the eight-point deep ecology platform. The first five points emphasize the flourishing of all life and some delineation of human behaviors including the “substantial decrease of the human population” (111). The remaining three points highlight the need for changes in “economic, technological, and ideological structures” and policies which would place a greater emphasis on “life quality” as opposed to increased standards of living (111-112). Given this platform, one then derives “normative or factual hypothesis and polices” at level 3. And from these hypotheses and policies one can ultimately derive “particular rules, decisions, and actions” found at level 4 (107). Returning to level 1 of the diagram, Næss discovered a rich heritage in the ideas on God from Baruch Spinoza.

Næss succinctly explains the essence of Spinoza’s God when he discusses God as “complete” in that God is both “the creative and the created” (Næss 236-237). Spinoza viewed God as one whole. He argued God is “infinite … (self-caused), [and a] unique substance of the universe” and that God is this substance, and all else that exists in the universe is in God (Nadler, “Baruch Spinoza (Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy)”). Since everything is God, humans and objects in the cosmos are simply modes or affections (Benedictus De Spinoza et al., Ethics, Part 1, proposition 15). Næss later observes God is creativity “intimately interrelated … by particular beings” which have intrinsic value (Næss 238). He notes that “it makes sense to care for these beings for their own sake, as creative beings” (239). The Stoics’ concept of God or Nature was not unlike that of Spinoza. One prominent Stoic, the Roman emperor Marcus Aurelius wrote, 

“All things are interwoven, and the bond that unites them is sacred, and hardly anything is alien to any other thing, for they have been ranged together and are jointly ordered to form a common universe. For there is one universe made up of all that is, and one god who pervades all things, and one substance and one law, and one reason common to all intelligent creatures, and one truth” (Book 7, chapter 9).

From these fundamental, deep beliefs, one can derive principles and lived ethics.

If an individual views himself as a part of the Whole – a part of God – then one can not only derive a sense of self-love, but a sense of love for all beings, creatures and entities in the world. Næss observes “love of the immanent God is love of God’s expressions, not of a separable God. A being expresses God’s nature or essence; therefore, love of God cannot be different from love of such a being” (Næss 240). In the caring crossfire of the Whole loving its seemingly infinite parts, one begins to lose the sense of self-distinctiveness and pivots to a paradigm of identifying “I” with “all.” And if the “I” is lost in the “all” then individual actions are only self-serving to all. Returning to Marcus Aurelius, he noted a similar sentiment: “What brings no benefit to the hive brings none to the bee” (Book 6, chapter 54). In sum, piousness towards the Whole produces sound ethics for all.

One Indian religion’s ideology is similar to what Næss encouraged: things, including religions, are part of the Whole and are unified. The religion’s paradigm of “the unity of all religions” is further exemplified with its mission: “to work in service to man and to God” through “education, medical service” and the development of small rural villages (Jackson 21). Two projects which helped develop the villages were an electrification project and a land shaping project.

For the electrification project, the villages usually depended on gas generators for their electrical needs. To secure renewable sources of energy, the mission contracted electricians and engineering experts to procure and install “hundreds of solar home power units” (22). For the land shaping project, the goal was to increase agricultural efficiency while minimizing deforestation. By shaping the land and creating a system of “ponds and uplands” the village saw a 50% increase in crops and wider access to fisheries, thus reducing illegal hunting (22).

When the head monk of the mission was queried about these “environmental projects” he was perplexed (22).  The monk did not see these projects as solely benefiting the environment, but rather he was motivated “to work for one's own salvation, and for the welfare of the world” or in other words to “work for the greater good of humanity in order to better one’s own karma” which in turn is viewed as “honoring God” (23). In sum, this mission and the monk who leads it, did not simply isolate piousness and environmental sustainability, rather, they saw all things interconnected working in a unified effort to help themselves, others and to honor God.

While the vast majority of the world is religious, there is a growing number of populations which are leaning agnostic or atheist (Sherman). Is piousness applicable to this segment of the world? If one applies a traditional religious view of an anthropomorphic God, they may not think piousness is necessarily a good thing. And this is why, perhaps, Næss and the aforementioned Indian religion advocate for a wider pious paradigm. If one can imagine God as all-things, and focus on the interconnectedness of all things, then perhaps one may secure an all-encompassing piousness – an intellectual love of God.

In review, given most of the world’s population is pious, the philsophy of deep ecology can leverage this fundamental premise to form broad coalitions of beliefs across many religions, such as that which the mentioned Indian religion strives for. These coalitions in piousness can then be leveraged to institutionalize best practices which support ecological sustainment in developing countries, such as India. In brief, perhaps all we really do need is love, or as Spinoza wrote, “God’s love of men and the mind’s intellectual love of God are one and the same” (Nadler, Spinoza’s Ethics : An Introduction 273).

Works Cited

Aurelius, Marcus. Meditations. Translated by Robin Hard, Oxford University Press, 2011.

Benedictus De Spinoza, et al. Complete Works. Hackett Pub, 2002.

Bhandari, Rupsingh. “Deep Ecological Consciousness and Interconnectedness in William Wordsworth’s Tintern Abbey.” Technium Social Sciences Journal, vol. 27, no. 27, Jan. 2022, pp. 808–14, https://doi.org/10.47577/tssj.v27i1.4910. Accessed 3 Mar. 2022.

Brennan, Andrew, and Yeuk-Sze Lo. “Environmental Ethics (Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy).” Stanford.edu, 3 Dec. 2021, plato.stanford.edu/entries/ethics-environmental/.

Jackson, Timothy, and Ba Bs. Deep Ecology in Action: A Cross-Cultural Series of Case Studies on the Conservation Efforts of Monks and Religious Leaders in India, Mongolia, and Thailand. 2009, d-scholarship.pitt.edu/7261/1/Jackson_Timothy_R_Deep_Ecology.pdf.

Johnson, Todd M., and Brian J. Grim. The World's Religions in Figures : An Introduction to International Religious Demography, John Wiley & Sons, Incorporated, 2013. ProQuest Ebook Central, https://ebookcentral.proquest.com/lib/apus/detail.action?docID=1160764.

Nadler, Steven M. “Baruch Spinoza (Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy).” Stanford.edu, 2016, plato.stanford.edu/entries/spinoza/.

---. Spinoza’s Ethics : An Introduction. Cambridge Univ. Press, 2009.

Næss, Arne. Ecology of Wisdom : Writings by Arne Naess. Edited by Alan R Drengson and Bill Devall, Counterpoint, 2010.

Sherman, Bill. "Report: Atheism Rate Growing Worldwide." McClatchy - Tribune Business News, Aug 25, 2012. ProQuest, http://ezproxy.apus.edu/login?qurl=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.proquest.com%2Fwire-feeds%2Freport-atheism-rate-growing-worldwide%2Fdocview%2F1034941626%2Fse-2%3Faccountid%3D8289.

Phil 405 term paper - The Consolation of Stoic Optimism

The Consolation of Stoic Optimism

    A sudden or expected death of a loved one, war, terror attacks, physical assaults, and violent car accidents are types of shocking events which confront individuals at least once in their lifetime (Bonanno, 20). Stoic metaphysics embraces an optimistic view that all events, including the ones listed, will ultimately work out well. However, one of the most prolific modern academics of Stoicism, wondered if this is a problem with the philosophy. After detailing Stoic metaphysics, including the properties of Nature, pneuma, and the philosophy’s optimistic view on providential determinism, A.A. Long mentions “one of the least palatable” characteristics of the philosophy: “trust” in Nature that all is well (170). He goes on to observe the “chilling and insensitive” attitudes of Epictetus and Marcus Aurelius which embrace a “faith that all will turn out well in the end” (170). Does a belief in Nature, fate, and that all events will ultimately unfold well help the individual secure a eudaimonic life? Or is this belief inconsiderate and does it minimize the emotions one feels as a result of his fate? With the right perspective, beliefs and attitude, one can achieve a flourishing life regardless of circumstances without necessarily minimizing one’s emotions.

    If one embraces Stoicism’s metaphysical framework, beginning with the concept of pneuma pervading everything through the forces of unity, life, movement and rationality, which logically leads to the idea of Nature or God as one whole, then one can rationally conclude a deterministic fate, in which humans participate in the fate of the Cosmos. Furthermore, despite a deterministic view, at least one research paper offers some evidence that a disbelief in free will can lead to moral behavior and empathy, thus countering the lazy argument (Caspar). One modern day psychologist bolsters this view with arguments from Spinoza and Joseph Wolpe. Therefore, taken as a whole belief system, assuming an optimistic perspective about conjoined fated actions and determinism, humans can flourish and be resilient (live an excellent life) regardless of circumstances and they can even experience a flowing self-determination in the face of any adversity, including death, loss and violent events. Indeed, this has been confirmed by some modern research. Because of their optimism, humans mostly exhibit resilience (Bonanno and Zimmerman). The entire argument, from metaphysical beliefs to determinism, to conjoined fated actions, to obtaining eudaimonia leads to the promise Epictetus gave his students: “[securing a] desire that never fails in its aim, aversion that never falls into what it wants to avoid, motivation that accords with one’s duty, purpose that is carefully weighed, and assent that is not over-hasty” (Discourses 2.8).

    At the very core of Stoic metaphysics is the substance pneuma. In brief, it simply and literally means wind or breath (Liddell and Scott). Long uses various phrases which expand on the literal definition, by describing pneuma as “fiery breath”, “artistic fire”, “the active principle”, “vital spirit … hot breath … vehicle of the logos”, “force or energy”, “‘field of force’ activating matter” and “intelligent director of everything” (150-164). John Sellars defines pneuma as “identified with God and reason” and “a conscious and rational organizing principle” and as “the soul of the cosmos” (97).  He cites Aetius who described God as “creative fire (pur technikon)” and Stobaeus who called it the force “causing growth and preservation” (98-99). Implicit in these descriptions is movement and action.

    Pneuma is in “perpetual motion” and therefore is the cause of other movements in the cosmos (Sambursky 21). Furthermore, this motion not only exists in bodies, but is also the framework for how the cosmos operates.  The motion is like that of waves or ripples after a pebble is tossed into still water. Quoting Stobaios, Sambursky writes, “It begins in the centre of the body and extends outwards to its boundaries, and after touching the outermost surface it turns back till it arrives at the same place from which it started” (31).

    Besides being in perpetual motion, pneuma is considered the active element and mixes with passive elements (fire, air, water, earth) and binds itself to them causing bodies to exist. Pneuma may be mixed with elements to three varying degrees. First is mingling which could be described as a “mechanical mixture” like that of a mosaic, second is fusion, which mixture causes “a new substance,” and third, “complete interpenetration” in which all parts are “jointly occupied by all the components in the same proportion” (Sambursky 12-13). Additionally, depending on the extent to which pneuma is mixed with passive elements will determine how alive an object is and if it has a soul or not (Sellars91). In sum, the extent of pneuma in passive elements determines if an object has simple forces of unity, or is living, or has movement or possesses rationality.

    Given that pneuma is in constant motion, mixes with passive elements, and is the cause of tension and the coherence of everything, the cosmos is one unified whole. Like the glove and hand analogy, whereby the glove would represent the passive elements, and the hand would represent the active force, the cosmos is set in motion and is active by virtue of pneuma. Sambursky succinctly summarizes this idea and notes how the cosmos is one whole because Nature is unbroken in time and space.  Referring to pneuma, he wrote, “It was divine power (viz. Force) impressing a definite state upon matter on the one hand, and causal nexus linking the successive states of matter on the other, and in both these aspects it revealed itself as a spatially and temporally continuous agent” (Sambursky 37). Given their view that the cosmos is one “agent,” the Stoics believed that fate was tied up with Nature - a topic on which Chrysippus had a few things to say.

    Regarding fate, Chrysippus aligns with Zeno’s position, Zeno being the founder of Stoicism.  In some fragments which remain of his writings, we learn Zeno said, “fate is the chainlike cause of existing things or the reason in accordance with which they are ordered … [and is] the moving power of matter according to identical rules and in the same way and it does not differ from providence and nature” (Gould 142). Chrysippus reaffirms Zeno’s stance by calling fate “a certain natural order of all things, following closely upon one another and moved in succession from eternity, and their intertwining with one another is unalterable” (143). Rival philosophical schools attacked Chrysippus’ views on fate arguing that free will was removed and that since fate has been decided, human agency becomes irrelevant (i.e., the lazy argument). In response, Chrysippus would refine his argument with the ideas of “proximate” and “perfect” causes along with the idea that certain things are “in our power” and others are not (149).

    A proximate cause might be the proposition of eating a large unhealthy meal or committing adultery, but the perfect cause would be the individual assenting to the proposition, or not. Chrysippus would expound on this idea with the cylinder analogy. A cylinder may be sitting on a slope and the “initial force” to start the rolling process would be the proximate cause (i.e., the proposition of an unhealthy dinner or the opportunity at committing adultery in the previous example) (149). But “the cylinder’s own form” would be accountable for the ongoing movement down the slope, which would represent the proximate cause (i.e., assenting or not to eating the unhealthy dinner or committing adultery in the previous example) (150). Sellars makes this distinction even clearer by explaining Chrysippus’ ideas on “simple fated things and conjoined fated things” and by providing an example of a mortal being (Sellars 103). He writes that while “Socrates will die” is a “simple fated thing” it is not certain that “Socrates will die this afternoon” because he will opt to visit a doctor and therefore his actual chance of survival is termed his “cojoined fate” since Socrates has some choice in the matter (104). While Chrysippus did much to bolster his views to counter the lazy argument response on fate, modern research also provides a few other reasons which counter the lazy argument on determinism and fate.

    One research study investigated the relationship between people’s belief or disbelief in free will and how their moral actions aligned with those beliefs. In this study, the researchers instructed all participants to complete various questionnaires to determine where their beliefs resided on a scale of belief in free will, determinism and fate. When the participants arrived at the lab, two large groups were formed: the Control group and the No Free will group. In the Control group, participants read a passage from a book which explained how “psychologists tried to develop a method to assess consciousness” while the No Free Will group read a passage from the same book about how “human behavior is totally determined by genetics” (Caspar, et. al. 3). They were then placed in groupings of three individuals in a room: one as “agent,” one as “victim,” and one as “experimenter” (3). The selection of the roles was random, and all participants eventually played one of the three roles. In every situation, the agent was given money if the agent delivered a painful shock to the victim, but if they did not deliver the shock, no money was given. In these sub-groupings, there were two conditions the agent was presented with: the free-choice condition, in which the agent was totally free to give the shock or not, and the coercive condition in which the experimenter told the agent to give the shock, in which case the agent could decide to give the shock or not.

    The results of this experiment indicate “the No Free will group inflicted fewer shocks in the free-choice condition than participants in the Control group” (6-7). While gender does seem to play a factor, the results still indicate that when given a free choice, participants who believed they had no choice in fact demonstrated greater prosocial or moral behaviors. The study further noted that “the reduction of immoral behavior in the no free will group for female participants stems from the induced beliefs” as opposed to their “core beliefs” (7). Additional conclusions from the study show that vengeful behavior was also reduced in the same No Free will group, “and that the higher female participants scored on free will, the more vindictive they were” (7). In sum, this research study reveals that a disbelief in free will does not necessarily lead to one adhering to lazy argument thinking, but it also reveals deterministic thinking can even lead to higher prosocial thinking and behavior.

    If one believes that much of their life and circumstances are determined by things beyond their control, then perhaps they will focus their efforts on empathy and improving societal and environmental conditions which promote improved moral behaviors, rather than seeking to instill punitive forms of persuasion. Indeed, it seems deterministic thinking can cause one to have more compassion and understanding. Donald Robertson, a modern-day psychologist, observed the connection between determinism and empathy by drawing parallels in the ideas of Spinoza and a 20th century psychiatrist named Joseph Wolpe. He noted that to understand the world rationally “is to do so by reference to … the essential idea of Nature itself.” He then quotes Spinoza, whose metaphysical beliefs are similar to the Stoics: “we can desire nothing save that which is necessary, nor can we absolutely be contented with anything save what is true: and therefore insofar as we understand this rightly, the endeavour of the best part of us is in harmony with the order of the whole of nature” (Robertson).

Robertson then notes the relationship between determinism and living in harmony with Nature, to the ideas of the psychiatrist Wolpe, who said this of determinism and empathy:

Objectivity, empathy, and sensitivity to suffering are intrinsic to the behaviour therapist’s approach to his patients. The objectivity follows from the knowledge that all behaviour, including cognitive behaviour, is subject to causal determination no less than is the behaviour of falling bodies or magnetic fields. […] To explain how the patient’s neurosis arose out of a combination or chain of particular events helps [empathic] understanding (Robertson).

The point to this long thread about determinism and empathy is to counter the idea which Long calls “chilling and insensitive” about the idea that “all will turn out well in the end” (170). Taking an optimistic perspective is not disturbing and inconsiderate, but rather it is a rational way for the individual to arrive at acceptance of events as they are and empathic understanding for himself and humanity.

    Furthermore, this thread of thought on determinism and empathy ought to inform the individual to not only validate his own emotions and those of others when they perceive that much is beyond their control - that these perceptions don’t have to be distressing and indifferent -but that we can experience greater and deeper understanding of our shared human experiences and help others see the higher fidelity of existence. The higher fidelity in thinking and perception allows us to truly grasp and comprehend what is up to us, and in that space, we can adjust our attitude towards an optimistic perspective which will lead to resilience in the face of adversity. In fact, resilience seems to be the default human reaction to adversity.

    Humans are a tough and resilient species. One study of 67 potentially traumatic events, such as “mass shootings, hurricanes, spinal cord injuries,” observed that two-thirds resiliently recover from the event (Zimmerman). The article which references this study concludes by noting what psychologists have observed in people who are resilient and flourish in virtually any circumstance: they have a “positive, realistic outlook … [and] look for opportunities in bleak situations, striving to find the positive within the negatives” (Zimmerman). A professor of clinical psychology at Columbia University’s Teachers College, George Bonanno, conducted this research on human resilience in the face of traumatic events, and observed “multiple pathways to resilience” (25). Of note are his findings which align with the optimistic perspective on Stoic determinism. He noted that “hardiness” which includes commitment “to finding meaningful purpose in life” and “that one can learn and grow from both positive and negative life experiences” are hallmarks in those who demonstrate resilience to adverse events (25). These traits align with the Stoic perspective that all events and circumstances can work out for the best. And closely related to this optimistic view, Bonanno further observes, are those responses of “positive emotion and laughter” which have the effect of “quieting or undoing a negative emotion” after an “aversive event” (26).

    To tie all these threads together, the idea that ultimately all works out well (Stoic optimism), not only embraces determinism, but also reminds the individual of what is up to him, namely, his attitude and the ability to grasp the reality of his situation. This higher fidelity in thinking allows him the space to be more empathic with his own situation and that of others. This empathy can counteract the “chilling and insensitive” perspective Long mentions (170). Furthermore, this cognitive space empowers the individual to breed a growth and learning mindset regarding all events in his life, including traumatic events. This optimism, in the form of seeking meaning and purpose, along with the optimistic characteristics of “positive emotion and laughter” can equip the individual to resiliently endure most events in his life (Bonanno 26). Being psychologically prepared and equipped with this mentality, the individual thus gains confidence in his pursuit of leading a fulfilling and flourishing life – he knows when tough times come, these events will provide meaning and opportunity for him to practice excellence in living.

    In conclusion, the entire argument, from metaphysical beliefs to determinism, to conjoined fated actions, to securing eudaimonia leads to the promise Epictetus gave his students: “[securing a] desire that never fails in its aim, aversion that never falls into what it wants to avoid, motivation that accords with one’s duty, purpose that is carefully weighed, and assent that is not over-hasty” (Discourses 2.8). This mindset is not disturbing nor callous, but rather optimistically equips the individual to be psychologically and emotionally durable and possess the confidence to face any adversity. Not only can one wisely respond to any desire, aversion, or event in his life, but he can also feel confidence and gratitude in his mental paradigm. Lastly, Marcus Aurelius compares this robust self-determination to that of ocean waves colliding against the cropping of rocks.

Be like the rocky headland on which the waves constantly break. It stands firm, and round it the seething waters are laid to rest. 'It is my bad luck that this has happened to me.' No, you should rather say: 'It is my good luck that, although this has happened to me, I can bear it without pain, neither crushed by the present nor fearful of the future.' Because such a thing could have happened to any man, but not every man could have borne it without pain (Meditations Book 4, chapter 49).

Works Cited

Bonanno, George A. "Loss, Trauma, and Human Resilience: Have we Underestimated the Human Capacity to Thrive After Extremely Aversive Events?" American Psychologist, vol. 59, no. 1, 2004, pp. 20-28. ProQuest, http://ezproxy.apus.edu/login?qurl=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.proquest.com%2Fscholarly-journals%2Floss-trauma-human-resilience-have-we%2Fdocview%2F614384211%2Fse-2%3Faccountid%3D8289, doi:https://doi.org/10.1037/0003-066X.59.1.20.

Caspar, Emilie A., et al. “The Influence of (Dis)Belief in Free Will on Immoral Behavior.” Frontiers in Psychology, no. 8 20, 17 Jan. 2017, https://doi.org/10.3389/fpsyg.2017.00020. 

Epictetus, et al. Discourses, Fragments, Handbook. Oxford University Press, 2014.

Gould, J B. The Philosophy of Chrysippus. 1970. Netherlands, Brill Academic Pub, 1971.

Liddell, Henry George, and Robert Scott. “Henry George Liddell, Robert Scott, a Greek-English Lexicon, πνεῦμα.” Www.perseus.tufts.edu, 1940, www.perseus.tufts.edu/hopper/text?doc=Perseus%3Atext%3A1999.04.0057%3Aentry%3Dpneu%3Dma. Accessed 12 Feb. 2023.

Long, A. A. Hellenistic Philosophy : Stoics, Epicureans, Sceptics. University Of California Press, 1986.

Marcus Aurelius, Emperor of Rome, et al. Meditations. Penguin Classics, An Imprint Of Penguin Books, 2014.

Robertson, Donald J. “Spinoza’s Philosophical Psychotherapy.” Stoicism — Philosophy as a Way of Life, 26 Sept. 2019, medium.com/stoicism-philosophy-as-a-way-of-life/spinozas-philosophical-psychotherapy-94ff758f6f15. Accessed 18 Feb. 2023.

Sellars, John. Stoicism. Routledge, 2014.

Zimmerman, Eilene. What Makes Some People More Resilient Than Others: RESILIENCE. ProQuest, Jun 18, 2020, http://ezproxy.apus.edu/login?qurl=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.proquest.com%2Fblogs-podcasts-websites%2Fwhat-makes-some-people-more-resilient-than-others%2Fdocview%2F2414234236%2Fse-2%3Faccountid%3D8289.

Phil 415 - Baruch Spinoza: Plunging into the Cosmos

Baruch Spinoza: Plunging into the Cosmos

Seeing clearly and comprehending reality correctly is critical for ensuring one’s actions are appropriate. A humorous Sears Optical commercial demonstrated this point by showing a woman letting a racoon into her home, thinking it was her cat. The implication was that her eyesight was so poor, she could not distinguish a wild racoon from her pet cat! (“Sears Optical Racoon Spot”). Spinoza was not only a lens crafter who helped people physically see correct reality, but he also was a philosopher who endeavored to help people comprehend an accurate understanding of God or nature. Spinoza was a contemporary to Descartes – noted for his cogito ergo sum - however Spinoza did not stop at acknowledging individual existence but strived to grasp “philosophical truth” from the view of an eternal, “rational observer” and not so much from a petty, egotistic perspective (Scruton, A Short History of Modern Philosophy : From Descartes to Wittgenstein, 48).

Born on November 24, 1632, in Amsterdam, Spinoza lived in an epoch of not only enlightenment, but one of challenges where people were vindictive and egocentric. One specific example of the degree to which people went to hold such strong beliefs was that of Uriel Da Costa; whose beliefs over which Spinoza “probably meditated long and hard” (Nadler, Spinoza : A Life, 66). Da Costa’s family and Spinoza’s family were connected as far back as when they lived in Portugal, before many of the Jews fled to Amsterdam (66). As for Uriel, his father was a Christian and his mother was a “Judaizer” (66). Having been raised Christian, he greatly feared for his salvation to the point of “sadness and pain”, and he deeply questioned his faith wondering if it “[agreed] with reason” (66-67). He abandoned his Christian faith and converted to Judaism in 1612 (67). But after some time living among the Jews in Amsterdam, he found their sect to be too Pharisaical. He moved to Hamburg in 1616 and published his quarrels with Judaism, railing against the “vanity and invalidity of the traditions and ordinances of the Pharisees” (68). Besides rejecting and deriding Jewish rites such as circumcision and the use of phylacteries and prayer shawls, Da Costa denied the immortality of the soul, the afterlife and eternal reward, all of which, he thought, caused great errors in thinking and “superstitious behaviors” (69). The Jewish religious leaders banned him, and he was exiled from the community; but after several years, he repented. He confessed his sins to the congregation, was then stripped to his waist, tied to a pillar and whipped thirty-nine times, then laid down at the threshold of the synagogue and walked over by every congregant as they exited the building. A few days later, Da Costa killed himself (71-72). Who is to blame for the anxieties of Da Costa? Was he in the right? Were his lay ministers rightfully justified in this brutal repentance process? Or were Da Costa and the rabbis all tragically in error?

Perhaps Spinoza thought they were all in error and attempted to correct these ideas. One historian of Spinoza wrote that having an “anthropomorphic conception of God can have only deleterious effects on human freedom and activity” (Nadler, Spinoza : A Life, 229). Furthermore, a modern author noted a similar sentiment when she wrote, “you can safely assume you’ve created God in your own image when it turns out that God hates all the same people you do” (Lamott). To rebut this erroneous perspective, Spinoza intended to elucidate a philosophy which would help society see reality from “the aspect of eternity” and to comprehend nature as an enduring and infinite entity in “which we participate because in it we are dissolved.” (Scruton, A Short History of Modern Philosophy : From Descartes to Wittgenstein, 62).  Dissolution of oneself is synonymous to what Seneca wrote when he suggested the human soul "[inject] itself into the cosmos as a whole” (see Letters on Ethics: To Lucilius 66.6 and Hadot, et. al., The Present Alone Is Our Happiness : Conversations with Jeannie Carlier and Arnold I. Davidson, 230). Consequently, if we have a correct understanding of God or nature, we minimize emotions and are free to not only plunge ourselves into nature, but to also participate with God by acting virtuously. In brief, Spinoza claims “our happiness and well-being lie, not in a life enslaved to the passions and to the transitory goods we ordinarily pursue, nor in the related unreflective attachment to the superstitions that pass as religion, but rather in the life of reason” (Nadler, Spinoza : A Life, 227). The crux of Spinoza’s philosophy is God as substance.

Spinoza’s God is not meant to be anthropomorphized. As he states in the scholium of proposition 15: “some imagine God in the likeness of man, consisting of mind and body, and subject to passions” (Benedictus De Spinoza et al. Ethics, Part 1). Rather than a personal God, like that found in Abrahamic religions, Spinoza argued God is “infinite … (self-caused), [and a] unique substance of the universe” and that God is this substance, and all else that exists in the universe is in God (Nadler, “Baruch Spinoza (Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy)”). Since everything is God, humans and objects in the cosmos are simply modes or affections (Benedictus De Spinoza et al., Ethics, Part 1, proposition 15). There are two types of modes.  The first are “infinite and eternal” and the second are “finite and temporal” (Dutton).  The first are like the laws of motion which are “pervasive features of the universe” while the second are individual objects which inhabit the universe (Dutton). Lastly, Spinoza defines God as deterministic, when he stated, “nothing in nature is contingent, but all things are from the necessity of the divine nature determined to exist and act in a definite way” (Benedictus De Spinoza et al., Ethics, Part 1, proposition 29). As for free-will, he bluntly wrote, “men believe themselves to be free, that they are conscious of their actions and ignorant of the causes by which they are determined” (Benedictus De Spinoza et al., Ethics, Part 3, proposition 2, scholium). In all these aspects of defining God, Spinoza remained totally committed to helping humanity comprehend reality from “the aspect of eternity” and to avoid the cruel, emotional behavior which many, including Da Costa, suffered in his time (Nadler, Spinoza : A Life, 241).

How does this understanding of God help the individual to minimize emotions? An awareness of “the universe in its totality cannot produce confused ideas, since the idea of the universe in its totality is the idea of God, which, to the extent that we grasp it, is adequate in us” (Scruton, A Short History of Modern Philosophy : From Descartes to Wittgenstein, 62). This seeking and comprehension of how the cosmos operates unshackles us “from the troublesome emotional ups and downs of this life” by freeing us “from a reliance on the senses and the imagination” (Nadler, “Baruch Spinoza (Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy)”). No longer tied to the puppet strings of religious dogma, fear of death, fame, riches and a myriad of other external things beyond our control, our emotions are not pulled and manipulated by others, but rather we freely choose how to act virtuously and with equanimity (see Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 7.29 and Nadler, Spinoza : A Life, 242).

Once we become unchained from externals, we exit the proverbial cave and enter the cosmos as an active agent instead of a passive entity (see Plato, et. al. 516a-517b). “The attempt to understand reality through that idea necessarily leads us to the love of reality … this love is active and intellectual, not passive and emotional; in acquiring it we come to participate in the divine nature” (Scruton, A Short History of Modern Philosophy : From Descartes to Wittgenstein, 62). As an active agent in the universe, we see reality from a timeless and limitless perspective. Our actions and attitude, in a sense, are unified with God and we are free to choose a virtuous life which aligns itself with the morality of God.  This entire concept is perfectly captured in the Greek word eudaimonia, which means one’s daimon – or deity within – is flourishing well or “good” (eu) (see Hadot, The Inner Citadel, 120-124).

Having attained this realization and enlightenment via this leap into reality, we begin to comprehend how every event and interaction becomes a way to practice and live a virtuous, moral life, which “happiness … is strictly its own reward” (Scruton A Short History of Modern Philosophy : From Descartes to Wittgenstein, 62). Our egotistical identity becomes transformed – we realize we are a part of God – and God’s reason becomes our reason. Pierre Hadot, in his analysis of Marcus Aurelius’ Meditations, succinctly explains this realization and inner transformation.  The individual passes from the “domain of necessity to the domain of freedom, and from the domain of freedom to the domain of morality” by assuming the perspective of God or nature and realizing one is only an “infinitesimal point within the immensity” (Hadot, The Inner Citadel, 182). Realizing how little is in one’s control, he is liberated to focus solely on his own attitude; responding with justice, courage, temperance or wisdom to circumstances placed before him; refraining from judging something to be good or bad, and holding on to a higher perspective – these are the choices one makes to inject oneself into the universe and become dissolved in and unified with God.

Spinoza embodied his philosophy. In a poignant letter with a colleague in England, while the Dutch Republic and the United Provinces of England were at war, Spinoza wrote,

these troubles move me neither to laughter nor again to tears, but rather to philosophising, and to a closer observation of human nature. For I do not think it right to laugh at nature, and far less to grieve over it, reflecting that men, like all else, are only a part of nature, and that I do not know how each part of nature harmonises with the whole, and how it coheres with other parts. And I realize that it is merely through such lack of understanding that certain features of nature - which I thus perceive only partly and in a fragmentary way, and which are not in keeping with our philosophical attitude of mind - once seemed to me vain, disordered and absurd. But now I let everyone go his own way. Those who wish can by all means die for their own good, as long as I am allowed to live for truth (Nadler, Spinoza : A Life, 220).

On another occasion, when financial stakes were high, Spinoza’s sister Rebekah tried to prevent him from acquiring his share of his father’s inheritance after he had died. Spinoza, out of sheer principal, took her to court, “established his claim, and then calmly renounced it” thus maintaining justice, while not grasping at externals (Scruton, Spinoza : A Very Short Introduction, 9).

In conclusion, Spinoza was an honorable soul who observed the barbarities of his time and tried to do his part to rectify them. He worked all his life explaining his vision of universal harmony as well as establish a path away from superstition and one toward unity with the cosmos. His friends closest to him bear witness to Spinoza’s embodiment of his philosophy, noting his “personal charm, nobility of outlook, and affectionate disposition” (18). He never relented in advocating a comprehension of nature as an enduring and infinite entity, into which we plunge, are dissolved and actively participate in a virtuous and moral life.  

Works Cited

Benedictus De Spinoza, et al. Complete Works. Hackett Pub, 2002.

Dutton, Blake D. “Spinoza, Benedict de | Internet Encyclopedia of Philosophy.” Internet Encyclopedia of Philosophy, iep.utm.edu/spinoza/.

Hadot, Pierre, and Michael Chase. The Inner Citadel: The Meditations of Marcus Aurelius. Cambridge, Mass. London Harvard University Press, 2001.

Hadot, Pierre, et al. The Present Alone Is Our Happiness : Conversations with Jeannie Carlier and Arnold I. Davidson. Stanford University Press, 2011.

Lamott, Anne. Bird by Bird: Some Instructions on Writing and Life. Anchor Books, 1994.

Lucius Annaeus Seneca, et al. Letters on Ethics : To Lucilius. The University Of Chicago Press, 2015.

Marcus Aurelius, Emperor of Rome, et al. Meditations. Penguin Classics, An Imprint Of Penguin Books, 2014.

Nadler, Steven M. “Baruch Spinoza (Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy).” Stanford.edu, 2016, plato.stanford.edu/entries/spinoza/.

---. Spinoza : A Life. Cambridge University Press, 1999.

Plato, et al. A Plato Reader : Eight Essential Dialogues. Hackett Pub. Co, 2012.

Scruton, Roger. A Short History of Modern Philosophy : From Descartes to Wittgenstein, Taylor & Francis Group, 1995. ProQuest Ebook Central, https://ebookcentral.proquest.com/lib/apus/detail.action?docID=168639.

---. Spinoza : A Very Short Introduction. Oxford University Press, 2002.

“Sears Optical Raccoon Spot.” Www.youtube.com, 23 Jan. 2014, www.youtube.com/watch?v=X7ySvH3UGys&ab_channel=searsopticalvideos.