Once

What happens when you die?

The stone tossed into a pond may no longer be visible, but the waters surrounding where it fell ripple ever outward.

~ ~ ~

Additional thoughts on this topic: Out of necessity, we carve the world up into grammatical categories.  But when dealing with meta-physics, we run into all kinds of philosophical pseudo-problems. 

For example, I am a noun, and I do verbs.  There is a separation made between me and my actions.  But from another perspective, is it not more accurate to say that I am this particular action in this particular moment?  And these actions radiate outward affecting people, places and things in who knows what ways. 

If there really is this kind of ontological seamlessness between what we call nouns and verbs, then what we call birth and death are really only belong to the nominal reality, and what is immediately visible to us.  

The truth is, every thing we do, whether out of love or hate or mere indifference, we carry a great response-ability for this very moment—nothing can be taken back, nothing can be erased from the vast web of causality out of which we arise and act within. 

If there is an immortality, it is not that of some imagined self-subsisting unchanging ego—but rather it is of our actions, how we inter-act with everything and everyone around us on a daily basis.  We continue—but without this ego—in the myriad ways we have touched those around us.

It is in this sense that birth is no creation from nothing, nor is death annihilation—everything IS, yet this IS is also endless flux, the formation and dispersal of myriad beings.  All that remains is our resolve to embrace both the terror and beauty and the sorrow and the joy in which we share within this brief notch of time.  

“Let us suppose that we say yes to a single moment; we would thus have said yes not only to ourselves but to all existence.  For nothing is isolated, either in ourselves, or in things.  And if happiness makes our souls vibrate and resonate even once, all the eternities will have been necessary to create the conditions of this single event, and all eternity has been approved, saved, justified, affirmed in this unique instant in which we have said yes.”  —Friedrich Nietzsche, Posthumous Fragments: 1886-1887

~ ~ ~ 

Once for each thing.  Just once; no more.  And we too,
just once.  And never again.  But to have been
this once, completely, even if only once:
to have been at one with the earth, seems beyond undoing.

—Rainer Maria Rilke, Duino Elegies, IX (translated by Stephen Mitchell)

Adaptability

The Stoic philosophers said that when we make plans we should do so only ‘with reservation.’  But the flip-side of the coin simply means to act ‘without expectation’—in other words, to simply be prepared for any situation that may arise.  But this does not mean to be apprehensive in a worrisome way—after all, such fears may be unwarranted just as one’s hopes for everything to go without a hitch is unwarranted.  It is in this sense that such things are a matter of indifference for the Stoics. 

The problem is that we cling to this idea that our plans are set in stone and are unalterable (even when we claim that there is the possibility things will change).  By the same token, being fearful is the pessimistic version of the same thing, and should also be rejected.  This doesn’t mean one should deny such possibilities or remain blind to them.  Certainly, it is necessary to acknowledge the different possible outcomes, but this doesn’t mean one should uncritically buy into them either.  The point is to tend to the present moment as it unfolds here and now.

Reflecting on these ideas the past few weeks, and learning how to apply this skill in my own daily life, I think a more accurate way of stating this Stoic principle of acting ‘with reservation’ is this: the cultivation one’s ability to readily adapt to various situations, whatever they may be.  It is more reasonable (and effective!) to be attentive to the present moment than to project hopes or fears into the future.  

Interestingly, this sense of ‘adaptability’ is perfectly in accord with Darwin (which is not at all the same thing as ‘survival of the fittest,’ which is Spencer’s notion, not Darwin’s).  This principle is also found in Daoism (Zhuangzi’s flexible willow tree, as opposed to the stiff pine which will break in strong winds).  Life becomes easier being able to adapt to situations, to rely on several skills and tools at one’s own disposal to best accomplish one’s goals rather than stubbornly insisting on one particular way, only to become frustrated when things turn out differently. 

Of course I’m only still learning.  I do have some initial frustration and annoyance when the unexpected comes up, altering my plans.  But my reaction time is at least improving somewhat (usually!).  I think that the smaller the gap of time is between the initial annoyance, followed by acceptance, the easier this becomes.  So my goal at the moment is to reduce that gap.  If I can do that, then I think I will also be more effective in handling any situation, rather than allowing myself to get upset over something that is not, in the Stoic sense, properly ‘mine.’

Epictetus and Stoic physics

From my other blog at Tumblr, The Examined Life, someone posed a good question:

In your opinion, how does Epictetus's maxim “Some things are in our control and others not. Things in our control are opinion, pursuit, desire, aversion, and, in a word, whatever are our own actions. Things not in our control are body, property, reputation, command, and, in one word, whatever are not our own actions,” fit into the materialistic/deterministic/monistic Stoic physics? Who is “our” and what kind of “control” does this suggest?

I wonder if Stoic physics could accurately be called ‘deterministic’ (in spite of all of Stoicism’s talk of ‘fate’) because a central idea of Stoicism is that all things are organically connected to the cosmos, and therefore inter-dependent.  Stoic physics seems to imply that since there is no actual separation of one’s self from everything else, it isn’t that ‘fate’ is really something set against free will.  To the extent that we (and all things) are particular extensions of the universal, the notion of setting a ‘self’ against an ‘other’ (or vice versa) doesn’t actually apply.  It seems to me that the issue of ‘free will’ and ‘determinism’ is misleading. 

With that in mind, the Stoic attitude is not one of resignation but of an existential realisation this organic unity of which all things, including oneself, is a part.  One should recognise oneself as a cosmopolitan, ‘a citizen of the cosmos.’  Stoic physics appears—at least to my understanding—to examine something prior to this ontological division, and to reconcile this division by truly understanding this unity. It is within this larger context of Stoic physics that Epictetus speaks of ‘things within our control.’ 

There are two aspects that need to be considered here.  [1] Insofar as an individual possesses its own distinctive and unique consciousness, it may be understood a distinctive part of the universe.  We can reify individual entities as individual entities.  But [2] insofar as an individual is also a sort of natural expression of the universe itself, that individual then is not ontologically separate from the cosmos and all other individuals, things and events, but intimately entwined with everything else.  And Epictetus’ ‘things in our control’ and ‘things not in our control’ correspond to these two interrelated perspectives of the cosmos itself. 

However, I also think that there is a qualitative difference in the ‘control’ of which Epictetus speaks.  The control of ‘things within our control’ is a different kind of control from the ‘things not in our control.’  The control of the latter entirely relies solely on a strict subject/object division, whereas in the former, the control involved is more a matter of attitude, judgement and perception.  Things that fell outside that scope were regarded as indifferents (though most Stoics agreed that some indifferents were perhaps more useful than others). 

Our human predicament is that we tend to remain ignorant of the organic unity part of the equation, and as a result, we make ourselves (and often those around us) miserable.  We imagine ourselves as ontologically independent of everything else, and seek to control things and events around us that in reality we can’t entirely control.  We see the reified aspect of existence, but not its unified aspect.  And when we allow ourselves to get into this state of mind, we become, as the Stoics would often say, ‘slaves’ to things ‘external’ to our consciousness.  What is more, this eventually results in hubris: We want to extend our control beyond not only what is humanly possible, but what is ontologically possible.

The Stoic attitude then is one that recognises the proper boundary between the self as part of the universe and the self as an expression of the universe.  To put it this way is to say the same thing as Epictetus, but from the perspective of Stoic physics rather than ethics. 

Philosophy as a process of thinking

If we read philosophy in search of only the conclusions reached by a thinker, we, as readers, are really missing the whole point of philosophical discourse.  While such conclusions may be important to know, it is the intellectual journey that one makes, with the philosopher at hand being a kind of tour guide, which is the crucial component of philosophical discourse. 

To use a musical analogy: Should one listen to a symphony with its various themes and variations for only the closing bars and final chord?  This is hardly the purpose of listening to the symphony.  It would be absurd to listen to a symphony (or any form of music) in such a way.  Likewise, we misunderstand what philosophy is about by reducing it to a mere ideology.

We should not read philosophy to simply seek agreement or disagreement with a particular philosopher’s conclusions—philosophy also means to follow a chain of thoughts.  It is through the very process of thinking that the conclusions may be truly revealed and understood—and the reader can learn from such processes, even when he or she disagrees with the conclusions.

I’m afraid we all too easily want to cut to the chase, seeking not the questions philosophy asks, but just to be given a set of ideological answers to which one may passively agree or disagree.  Such an approach might work for religion qua religion, but philosophy is not simply a matter of belief only.  This is not to say that one is not allowed to agree or disagree with a philosopher—but this is to miss the main point of philosophy.

The beauty of philosophy is that it is possible to transform one’s worldview not by merely assenting to a set of propositions, but by thinking through an idea and letting those ideas lead one someplace unexpected—even when one knows what the conclusions are in advance.  The what of philosophy is not as important is the how.  This is why the ancient Greeks elevated reason as something divine, calling it the logos.  It is through this logos that philosophia possesses the capacity to change one’s life. 

Why Principia Omnium? A re-visioning of the Stoic vision

In the Greco-Roman world, Stoicism was traditionally divided into three branches of philosophical discourse: logic, ethics and physics.  While logic provided the tools to understand Stoic thought, and ethics dealt with Stoic practice, physics concerned itself with the ontological theory underlying the whole of the Stoic way of life (‘theory’ in the original Greek sense of the word theoria, ‘vision’). 

Physics provided the ontological foundation for the ancient Stoics—but can such a foundation be imported wholesale into the 21st century?  Certainly there are many elements of Stoicism’s monist and materialist ontology that share a resonance with the modern scientific world we live in today.  But other aspects, expressed in terms of the mythos of antiquity appear out of place, such as pantheist theology and the assertion of an anthropocentric universe.

Can Stoic physics be re-visioned, yet leaving Stoic praxis essentially intact?  My aim with the Principia Omnium is to investigate anew the many implications derived from a monist vision, re-interpreting Stoic physics as a non-theistic and non-anthropocentric ontology, without reference to any pantheist deity.

To do this would not involve a radical re-interpretation of traditional Stoic physics, since pantheism is in actuality not that far removed from atheism: in essence, the pantheist god is identical to the cosmos itself.  In removing the anthropocentric perspective of Stoic physics, the necessity of a pantheist god (with the shared characteristics of ‘personhood') is likewise removed.  What remains is a divine cosmos instead of the cosmos as a conscious, anthropocentric Divinity.

However, the Principia Omnium is more than a mere demythologised version of Stoic physics.  It is intended as a series of philosophical meditations leading to a new Stoic vision.  By investigating certain assumptions commonly affirmed in a dualistic model of the cosmos, and by deconstructing such assumptions in light of a monist model, a new understanding of Stoic philosophy may be gained. 

It is not merely the conclusions of the ten principles that matter, but the active process and exercise of thinking though the implications of a monist ontology that may lead to a deeper understanding of the rationale behind the Stoic life.  In this way, the ontological model outlined in the Principia Omnium can be grafted onto Stoic ethics and therefore fulfil the role of a kind of ‘updated physics’ for Stoic philosophy in the 21st century.