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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.
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I've since expanded the post; you may find it interesting.
Cheers...
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I have never heard it described so perfectly. Thank you for breaking all of this down.
Part of me wishes I could be that way, but a lot of me is glad I'm not. What I need is a balance.
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Since there is still time left before the deadline, I've taken the liberty to do a little rewriting to clarify what it was I wanted to say.
I look forward to any further comment you may have.
Cheers...
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Cheers...
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Cheers...
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It's a heavy thing, coming up with a philosophy to deal with the flaming boulders life sometimes throws at you ...it seems like the plus side of Stoicism is an ability to take things in stride, while a danger might be accepting something that you actually did have the power to change.
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The Greeks had their work cut out for them once their society had gotten to the point where people could spare a few breaths to think about how, exactly, one might systematically go about living well.
As I understand it, the Stoic approach lies not in simply "taking things in stride" or accepting them, but recognizing what it is you can do to change things and not waste energy on trying to change—or wish away—things you can't.
I recently ran across a quote attributed to Marcus Aurelius that succinctly hits on this theme:
I should probably "escalate" this response to a full-fledged post in the near future. :^)
Cheers...
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I've always found the Stoic attitude admirable, too, but hard to implement. What-ifs are hard to quash, and the mind and imagination aren't something we have complete control over - we do what we can, though, and putting in the effort to control our reactions to those unexpected bumps is a good thing.
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You hit the nail on the head. Saying we can do something only really speaks to "the ability to do" that something. The actual skill isn't there; it must be developed.
In my own experience, I've found that "skill" in dealing with life's slings and arrows can be developed, and it starts—or did in my case—with being able to recognize one's reaction to such insults.
Cheers...
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There's a lot to think about in this piece.
AW
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Cheers...
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I am learning of late how to let a lot of things go, but it is hard.
Have you ever looked into Buddhist philosophy? Because Stoicism sounds a lot like nonattachment.
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I'm glad you enjoyed the post.
Cheers...
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"God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change,
The courage to change the things I can,
And the wisdom to know the difference."
and interpreted it in (I feel) the same way that you've looked at Stoicism. The emotions that feed into our cognitive state when we're faced with a big problem are no less one of the changeable facets of that problem even if the problem itself is unstoppable. I wish you the prowess of thought to compartmentalize whatever the result of that biopsy might be, though I hope it came out well.
I have, always, much to learn from your thoughts here. Even tonight. Thanks.