LJ Idol 9.28: The Copernican principle...
The first time I heard of Stoicism was in junior high school, in social studies class.
The subject under discussion was ancient Greece, and the teacher was telling us about some of the different philosophical schools that thrived at that time, each seeking to find the key to living well. I cannot recall anything at all about what my teacher said about the Epicureans or the Cynics or the Skeptics, but I remember clearly what he said about the Stoics, because it was so… blunt. He said:
"And then there were the Stoics, but they didn't care about anything." Period. Paragraph. Nothing to see here; let's move on.
Years later, I was reading a self-improvement book and zeroed in on the idea that the only thing you have reliable control over in life is not the things that happen to you, but how you react to those things. It made sense. That book led to other books, and eventually, I found multiple references to Stoicism and learned more about it.
To me, the Stoic worldview made a neat counterpoint to the idea of the "Copernican principle"-which, when you get past the solar system aspect, basically says we are not the center of the universe, but a part of a larger whole-because as far as each of us is concerned, each individual is positioned at the center of his or her own universe. And here, I'm not talking about being "self-centered" in the sense of being preoccupied with oneself or being self-absorbed. I'm simply pointing out that one can view the totality of what exists as being composed of the world, on the one hand, and our own mind, which perceives that world, on the other.
And the more I read about Stoicism, the more I realized my teacher's description of Stoics had been wrong.
It wasn't that Stoics didn't care about anything; on the contrary, they cared very much about living well. They just didn't want to waste time and energy caring about things over which they had no control. In Stoic terms, once you've taken the time to identify and accept those things over which you have no control, you have nothing to fear. Stoics live in the moment, taking pleasure out of things like time with loved ones, but they do so with a set-in-concrete understanding and acceptance that any or all of it can vanish in a heartbeat.
Alas, that-in a very sketchy nutshell-may be the theory, but putting that theory into practice is no easy job, unless you've spent a lifetime cultivating that practice. This is a theme that Stoic writers often dwell upon, and for good reason. In my own experience, the word "aspire" crops up a lot in my mind when I think about how Stoic principles might apply to my own life.
Some things are easy to deal with. Did someone call me a loser? Insult my school? Say nasty things about my loved ones? I'm not sure those things have ever bothered me, and I find it easy to let go of such issues.
Other things are a bit harder. Am I faced with unexpected bill with nothing in the bank? It took me a while, but I've gotten to the point where I may allow myself "a three-minute pity party" before settling down to deal with problems such as these.
Still other things can seem insuperable, like that letter, a while back, from the IRS asking for-gulp!-quite a lot of money. And even though the situation was cleared up to everyone's satisfaction and it turned out I didn't owe the money, I did a mediocre job of keeping my mind on the problem, at first. Try as I might, there were nights my mind would not let me fall asleep, worrying about things that ultimately, never came to pass. With time, the way I reacted to the problem improved, but to tell the truth, I don't ever want to get good at dealing with those kinds of bumps!
And yet, life is filled with them. Both bumps that occur in the night and those in broad daylight. I don't know which are worse.
The most recent has been gathering force, like a low-lying thunderstorm cell, over the past week. It culminated today in a rather long visit to a doctor. I am scheduled for a biopsy tomorrow.
There is an essay by the Roman statesman (and Stoic) Seneca "open" on my Kindle. As it happens, its title is On the Shortness of Life. It would appear I have some reading to do.
The subject under discussion was ancient Greece, and the teacher was telling us about some of the different philosophical schools that thrived at that time, each seeking to find the key to living well. I cannot recall anything at all about what my teacher said about the Epicureans or the Cynics or the Skeptics, but I remember clearly what he said about the Stoics, because it was so… blunt. He said:
"And then there were the Stoics, but they didn't care about anything." Period. Paragraph. Nothing to see here; let's move on.
Years later, I was reading a self-improvement book and zeroed in on the idea that the only thing you have reliable control over in life is not the things that happen to you, but how you react to those things. It made sense. That book led to other books, and eventually, I found multiple references to Stoicism and learned more about it.
To me, the Stoic worldview made a neat counterpoint to the idea of the "Copernican principle"-which, when you get past the solar system aspect, basically says we are not the center of the universe, but a part of a larger whole-because as far as each of us is concerned, each individual is positioned at the center of his or her own universe. And here, I'm not talking about being "self-centered" in the sense of being preoccupied with oneself or being self-absorbed. I'm simply pointing out that one can view the totality of what exists as being composed of the world, on the one hand, and our own mind, which perceives that world, on the other.
And the more I read about Stoicism, the more I realized my teacher's description of Stoics had been wrong.
It wasn't that Stoics didn't care about anything; on the contrary, they cared very much about living well. They just didn't want to waste time and energy caring about things over which they had no control. In Stoic terms, once you've taken the time to identify and accept those things over which you have no control, you have nothing to fear. Stoics live in the moment, taking pleasure out of things like time with loved ones, but they do so with a set-in-concrete understanding and acceptance that any or all of it can vanish in a heartbeat.
Alas, that-in a very sketchy nutshell-may be the theory, but putting that theory into practice is no easy job, unless you've spent a lifetime cultivating that practice. This is a theme that Stoic writers often dwell upon, and for good reason. In my own experience, the word "aspire" crops up a lot in my mind when I think about how Stoic principles might apply to my own life.
Some things are easy to deal with. Did someone call me a loser? Insult my school? Say nasty things about my loved ones? I'm not sure those things have ever bothered me, and I find it easy to let go of such issues.
Other things are a bit harder. Am I faced with unexpected bill with nothing in the bank? It took me a while, but I've gotten to the point where I may allow myself "a three-minute pity party" before settling down to deal with problems such as these.
Still other things can seem insuperable, like that letter, a while back, from the IRS asking for-gulp!-quite a lot of money. And even though the situation was cleared up to everyone's satisfaction and it turned out I didn't owe the money, I did a mediocre job of keeping my mind on the problem, at first. Try as I might, there were nights my mind would not let me fall asleep, worrying about things that ultimately, never came to pass. With time, the way I reacted to the problem improved, but to tell the truth, I don't ever want to get good at dealing with those kinds of bumps!
And yet, life is filled with them. Both bumps that occur in the night and those in broad daylight. I don't know which are worse.
The most recent has been gathering force, like a low-lying thunderstorm cell, over the past week. It culminated today in a rather long visit to a doctor. I am scheduled for a biopsy tomorrow.
There is an essay by the Roman statesman (and Stoic) Seneca "open" on my Kindle. As it happens, its title is On the Shortness of Life. It would appear I have some reading to do.