In this last section I'll tackle a whole bunch of things. These are very practical issues in Stoicism. So far we've discussed the goals, lofty they may seem, of Stoicism. The pursuit of tranquility. In this, we've discussed negative visualisation as a practical means of enjoying the present moment and being content with what you have. We've also discussed the past and the future. That their impact on the present moment should be advisory, and not the main focus. That presentation that you gave to the board of directors that bombed is in the past. There's nothing you can do about it now, you could give a few people a call to see if you can salvage your job, but the presentation's done and that's it. That job interview you're going to tomorrow will happen in due time. You can prepare for it now, but since you're not in charge of the interview, you don't know how it's going to go. You'll just have to do your best today, be satisfied with your preparation and show up. It could go well, it could go badly, but that's not something you have control over. Right now you have control over your preparation. And then the issue of control. The one thing that we truly have control over is ourselves. Not over the weather, or the attitudes of others, or if the car will start in the morning (though that's debatable), but we have definite control over if we should watch television right now, or sit and read. Of course, should the house crash around us, that decision is still ours, but it would be wise to get out of the way.
So in this section, a few things to think about.
Firstly, abstinence and self denial. We may have touched on this, but the Stoics thought that the act of self denial, causing yourself temporary discomfort, was a way to enjoying what you had. If you walk outside in the cold, with just a shirt on, you'll better enjoy the warmth once you're inside. If you practise not eating, you'll enjoy the taste of a piece of dry bread. Denying yourself certain comforts with the aim of better enjoying what you have in the present moment. The things that are in front of you. If you can enjoy what you have, then the frustration of waiting to get those things you don't have doesn't come into play. Because you're already there. Unfortunately, life is full of waiting for the thing that's going to make us happy to appear. Even when we're in the moment of pleasure, some sense of its imminent end makes it not so enjoyable. And once it's over, we set upon finding it again, waiting again. So the periods of self denial, where you put yourself in that place where you're not so comfortable, to experience discomfort, not to the extent of masochism, but obvious unease, those events allow you to better enjoy the things you have in front of you.
Secondly, meditation. Every religion has this in some form or another. Is it natural for humans to meditate? Do we need that quiet time to reflect, to pause and think about what we're doing, where we've come and where we're going? Seems like that is one of the stepping stones to achieving spirituality because introspection is demanded by almost every religion. The Stoics, Seneca especially, advise you to think and meditate on your life. What you did that day, if you could have lived it differently, not to dwell on it, but to learn from it. Meditation on the steps you're taking towards Stoicism will encourage you to do better and to live a better life. I can't agree with this more. Meditation demands quiet. It also demands solitude, both things that are very important in tranquility. I've discovered that even listening to television, for a single hour, is draining. The constant din of the television makes me very tired. If there's music in the background, I prefer something very light and soothing like jazz. Sometimes though the music can get annoying. The quiet reflection requires that you remove all sensory input so that you can concentrate on thinking. No noise, no smells, perhaps even close your eyes so that you're not distracted by that spot on the wall, or that book on the bookshelf that you've been contemplating re-reading. Or that computer that's urging you to type an email. But the act of meditation takes on a different meaning for different people. In my case, I find myself able to think better when I write. Paper and pen, not type. When I write, I slow down. When I slow down, I can concentrate on a single thing and not bounce from activity to activity. When I write about an incident that incensed me, I'm forced to think word for word, what I actually mean by incensed. And by writing it down, I can debate it with myself, slowly. Debate why I felt that way and what happened. Seneca especially gives some examples of how he reacted when criticised, snubbed, ridiculed and so on. Very human in the reaction, but we can see from his writings that he strove to come to sense with what was going on and try to heal himself. For example, when criticised, he would wonder if he deserved the criticism, and if so why he'd reacted negatively. He'd also wonder if the reaction to the criticism was because it was public, and so he wouldn't be appreciated by others who'd hear the criticism, or if the source of the criticism was someone who didn't understand the material, or even from a higher authority, who should know better, or from a know-it-all, who liked to ridicule in any case. All these things were considered to find an alternative method to dealing with the feeling. Not the actual criticism, because that's out of his control, but the emotions that would arise from hearing the criticism. It's hard to say that you shouldn't feel anything. But Seneca does advise that we should think of the feeling and ask ourselves if we're being governed by our reasoning or our feelings. Are we acting reasonably, or childishly. It's hard not to have an emotional context. That if someone calls you an idiot, you should walk away. The Christian bible talks about turning the other cheek. That's very difficult and Stoicism doesn't demand that you take abuse. But when humiliated, there are techniques, and we'll discuss one of them, that you can use to counter the criticism, especially when it's personal, and take it in stride. Therefore meditate, possibly daily, take some time out to reflect. If possible many times during the day, take a few minutes to stop, to pause and to contemplate where you are, what you're doing and whether or not you're doing the right thing and moving in the right direction.
Next dealing with people. One of the most contradictory things I have found in reading William Irving's book is the discovery that even though Marcus Aurelius was an emperor, he had issues dealing with people. It almost looked like he didn't like dealing with people, that he thought of his close advisors as idiots and that he was well aware of the backstabbing and talking that people were doing behind his back. Yet he could have dealt with it by throwing them all to the lions and proceeding to surround himself with people who would talk nicely of him and not criticise him. Typical to Stoic thinking, Marcus advises us to put those trying, annoying incidents into context. When put into cosmic context, the fact that one day we will die, they then seem to fade, in fact disappear. What does it matter when someone calls you an idiot when you know that one day, he'll be dead, you'll be dead and this instance of time will be lost, to you and to those sitting around now, hearing the insult. The Christian bible talks about putting out anger with a kind word. The Stoics don't think so. When faced with insulting people, the Stoics turn to humour. This is fabulous, in fact the advice given here is almost priceless. What they're attempting to do is douse anger. That feeling of hating them, or seeking revenge. And the only way is not to be like them. To refuse to be like them and to become an individual, with charity towards everyone, because that's what you are, is the best form of defence. For the most part, people who insult you are overgrown children, at least according to Seneca. Like a mother won't be upset if her child insults her, we shouldn't be upset if these overgrown children upset us. Some people are upsetting because they really believe in what they're saying. They honestly think that they're better than anyone else and they're approaching this from a position of absolute certainty. There's not much you can do about those attitudes, especially from people in positions of power. However, your attitude towards them can be tempered. Say, for example, your boss tells you that your work is sloppy and that you need to focus more on what you should be doing. Perhaps you were working as hard as you could and even though you say so, they still think that you've been slacking off. You can get angry, and that's one way to deal with this type of insult. Alternatively, you can proceed with the fact that this person doesn't know what you know. They have no knowledge of what you've been doing, how hard you've been working and why the results came out the way they did. They, not you, are the idiot. If your job in jeopardy, your alternatives are still quite good. Perhaps working for this person in the long run isn't such a good idea. Perhaps you can later convince them that your work is good. Whether you keep the job or leave, or are terminated, you will discover that your feelings towards the insult aren't negative. Two final pieces of advice when faced with insults. The first, is to respond with humour. Seneca gives an example when Cato was spat on by his adversary Lentulus he calmly wiped off the spit and said, "I will swear to anyone, Lentulus, that people are wrong when they say you cannot use your mouth!" The problem, Irving says, is that most of the time when you're insulted, you lose your presence of mind. You're dumfounded and thinking quickly on your feet isn't something that might be natural. I think that replying with humour is almost like insulting the person back. It's almost like going down to their level. Especially that statement by Cato. The alternative, and a solution from Musonius, is to say nothing. No response but to quietly bear what has happened. This seems to me a better alternative, unless it goes to the realm of allowing bullies to get away with insults. There are some people who make it their personal objective to be offensive. In those cases, there should be a way to douse their insults without sitting quietly and bearing the brunt of it. In those cases, diving full force into the insult and challenging it might be instructive. I must admit, I fall into the category of those who aren't so quick to launch back at an insult. I'm more likely to say, "no I'm not!" Later realise that the offender achieved their objective in making me take their criticism seriously, but its too late. Staying quiet sometimes robs the offender of the victory of the insult. On the other hand, if the insult was supposed to silence you, then perhaps the objective was met and they can watch as you stew quietly. The best response is quiet sitting and smiling then. In line with this is the fact that Stoicism advises you to not worry about things that are not in your control. What others think about you is not in your control. And so, you shouldn't worry about what others think of you. Since you cannot make them think any better or less, or since their thinking will change and that is change you cannot control, you shouldn't concern yourself with what they think about you. If you value your freedom, like the Stoics do, then you won't do anything that gives other's power over you. Allowing your happiness to come from the praise of other people is giving them too much power over you and so, the things they say, shouldn't concern you. Of course, you shouldn't be arrogant and ignore good advice. Perhaps the criticism was in good faith and required. Perhaps it was said in a kind tone. But perhaps thinking about the content, not the tone or the speaker, will help you dissect the words coming at you so that you can better decide how to deal with them. One of the worst things we can do when other people annoy us is to get angry.
There's a lot to learn about the philosophy of Stoicism. A lot of good advice on how to live. William Irving's book distills the core ideas of Stoicism in a readable text for those of us who aren't philosophy majors.
Sunday, November 13, 2011
Stoic Joy - Review 4 of 5
This is my fourth post in my series of five, of the teachings that I've learned from Stoicism. By no means comprehensive, but my thoughts on the book that I read by William Irving, A Guide to the Good Life: The Ancient Art of Stoic Joy. We've already talked about the technique of Negative Visualisation as a means to help you learn to enjoy the things that you have. We've also discussed abstinence and living simply. Forgoing things and enjoying the basic things that are around you. This goes hand-in-hand with negative visualisation because the visualisation helps you remember that things could be worse, and that you are indeed lucky to have what you have. Living simply adds the notion of exercising your will to forgo those riches in life. Taking the bus when you could be driving. Eating a piece of bread when you could be enjoying a sumptuous steak. And then finally, we also talked about living in the present and not minding the past or the future. Not ignoring them, but knowing that you have absolutely no control over them, and that they are essentially there to help you deal with the present, the here and now.
The purpose of Stoicism is Tranquility. To quote William Irving, "Someone who thinks something is more valuable than tranquility would therefore be foolish to practice Stoicism." It's true that most of the major religions would also claim that this is their purpose, however, the difference is in how it's obtained. How does the Muslim seek tranquility. How does the Christian seek tranquility, or the atheist? The goals might look the same, but the main difference is in how it's obtained. There might also be a difference in opinion. When speaking of tranquility, are the religions talking about the same thing? Stoicism looks at tranquility in a deeply personal, introspective way. Ultimately the goal is for you to have that peace, that tranquility by going through a set of prescribed steps, very defined activities, such as negative visualisation, self-denial of pleasure, of frugal living. Each lesson supposed to allow you to strengthen that appreciation of the things you have, where you are, so that tranquility instead of frustration sets in. You're supposed to feel OK, alright, at peace with the things that are at this moment, not in a rush to be somewhere else, to be on the move to attain your enjoyment somewhere else. You're supposed to find that enjoyment in the present moment.
And so another instrument that Stoicism uses in its goals to achieve tranquility is aimed at the illusion of control. The illusion that we have control over what's around us and that we control our environment. In this respect, the first realisation is that we don't have control over our environment. We don't have control over events. But we have control over ourselves and over our emotions. We have control over how we feel about certain things, but not the existence of those things. We're told that in seeking goals, many people tend to think that they can change their environment. That if they change their environment, say like go on a vacation, then they will be happy. They will then be content. But the Stoics say that this is the wrong approach. That instead, the goal, as difficult as it sounds, is to try and find that happiness in the things that are already in existence around you. Rather than try and change your surroundings, your environment, you should change yourself, or your desires in that attempt to find tranquility. Epictetus further states that there are some things that we have control over, and other things that we have no control over. William Irving goes on to expand this into a trichotomy. There are some things over which we have complete control, some thing over which we have some control, but not complete control, and lastly some things over which we have no control at all.
I prefer the absolutes of Epictetus. Absolute control over whether or not I will enjoy my meal, right now, or if I will eat it grudgingly. Absolute control over if I will smile at my friends, or look morose. Absolute control over whether I should read, watch TV or sleep. Irving gives an excellent example of the instance where you have some control. Whether or not you win a tennis match isn't totally up to you. Where you have control is whether or not you will give it your best. How hard you'll play. Winning or loosing isn't totally in your control. Of course, if you fail to show up at the tennis match, you lose by default, consciously, knowingly. You can also choose to lose. Finally, you have no control over the weather, or if the sun will rise. You have no control over any future events. You may plan for a successful wedding, you may hire the best people and spend the best money, but that doesn't guarantee that your guests will like it. It doesn't guarantee that there will be a calamity that day that puts it off. However, what you have in your control is that ability to hire the best people, to book the best rooms and to invite your guests. Whether they come or not isn't in your control.
The issue of control is big. It goes to a lot of what we want in life. To be in control seems to be a basic conditioning of western thought. Not just independence, the right to exist and to be free. But the right to manage not just yourself, but to influence those around you. We want control in the west. We drive ourselves based on the control we have over others. The fact that the Stoics say that you should not desire control doesn't mean that they eschew public life. In fact, Marcus Aurelius, a Roman emperor was a stoic. Yet his writings show that he struggled with some of the basic character flaws, dealing with incompetence, jealousy, backstabbing, deceitfulness and all the complexities of human interaction. Some famous Stoics, such as Seneca, were also financially very well off and lived in public service. Yet their writings show that they didn't let this wealth go to their heads. They struggled also with trying to find tranquility, which goes to show that wealth doesn't translate to happiness, a recurring theme in many religions.
And so the lesson here is that control is an illusion. That the only things we have control over are ourselves. That we should only aspire to those things that we have control over. And since the only things we have control over are ourselves, we should spend more time thinking over, brooding over and spending time with our attitudes and our immediate surroundings. Yes, you can paint that wall. But the result may not make you happy, however, if the action of painting, the work, the journey, makes you happy, then that it what you have control over. There's a Chinese saying, "The journey is the reward."
The purpose of Stoicism is Tranquility. To quote William Irving, "Someone who thinks something is more valuable than tranquility would therefore be foolish to practice Stoicism." It's true that most of the major religions would also claim that this is their purpose, however, the difference is in how it's obtained. How does the Muslim seek tranquility. How does the Christian seek tranquility, or the atheist? The goals might look the same, but the main difference is in how it's obtained. There might also be a difference in opinion. When speaking of tranquility, are the religions talking about the same thing? Stoicism looks at tranquility in a deeply personal, introspective way. Ultimately the goal is for you to have that peace, that tranquility by going through a set of prescribed steps, very defined activities, such as negative visualisation, self-denial of pleasure, of frugal living. Each lesson supposed to allow you to strengthen that appreciation of the things you have, where you are, so that tranquility instead of frustration sets in. You're supposed to feel OK, alright, at peace with the things that are at this moment, not in a rush to be somewhere else, to be on the move to attain your enjoyment somewhere else. You're supposed to find that enjoyment in the present moment.
And so another instrument that Stoicism uses in its goals to achieve tranquility is aimed at the illusion of control. The illusion that we have control over what's around us and that we control our environment. In this respect, the first realisation is that we don't have control over our environment. We don't have control over events. But we have control over ourselves and over our emotions. We have control over how we feel about certain things, but not the existence of those things. We're told that in seeking goals, many people tend to think that they can change their environment. That if they change their environment, say like go on a vacation, then they will be happy. They will then be content. But the Stoics say that this is the wrong approach. That instead, the goal, as difficult as it sounds, is to try and find that happiness in the things that are already in existence around you. Rather than try and change your surroundings, your environment, you should change yourself, or your desires in that attempt to find tranquility. Epictetus further states that there are some things that we have control over, and other things that we have no control over. William Irving goes on to expand this into a trichotomy. There are some things over which we have complete control, some thing over which we have some control, but not complete control, and lastly some things over which we have no control at all.
I prefer the absolutes of Epictetus. Absolute control over whether or not I will enjoy my meal, right now, or if I will eat it grudgingly. Absolute control over if I will smile at my friends, or look morose. Absolute control over whether I should read, watch TV or sleep. Irving gives an excellent example of the instance where you have some control. Whether or not you win a tennis match isn't totally up to you. Where you have control is whether or not you will give it your best. How hard you'll play. Winning or loosing isn't totally in your control. Of course, if you fail to show up at the tennis match, you lose by default, consciously, knowingly. You can also choose to lose. Finally, you have no control over the weather, or if the sun will rise. You have no control over any future events. You may plan for a successful wedding, you may hire the best people and spend the best money, but that doesn't guarantee that your guests will like it. It doesn't guarantee that there will be a calamity that day that puts it off. However, what you have in your control is that ability to hire the best people, to book the best rooms and to invite your guests. Whether they come or not isn't in your control.
The issue of control is big. It goes to a lot of what we want in life. To be in control seems to be a basic conditioning of western thought. Not just independence, the right to exist and to be free. But the right to manage not just yourself, but to influence those around you. We want control in the west. We drive ourselves based on the control we have over others. The fact that the Stoics say that you should not desire control doesn't mean that they eschew public life. In fact, Marcus Aurelius, a Roman emperor was a stoic. Yet his writings show that he struggled with some of the basic character flaws, dealing with incompetence, jealousy, backstabbing, deceitfulness and all the complexities of human interaction. Some famous Stoics, such as Seneca, were also financially very well off and lived in public service. Yet their writings show that they didn't let this wealth go to their heads. They struggled also with trying to find tranquility, which goes to show that wealth doesn't translate to happiness, a recurring theme in many religions.
And so the lesson here is that control is an illusion. That the only things we have control over are ourselves. That we should only aspire to those things that we have control over. And since the only things we have control over are ourselves, we should spend more time thinking over, brooding over and spending time with our attitudes and our immediate surroundings. Yes, you can paint that wall. But the result may not make you happy, however, if the action of painting, the work, the journey, makes you happy, then that it what you have control over. There's a Chinese saying, "The journey is the reward."
Saturday, November 12, 2011
Stoic Joy - Review 3 of 5
In this third edition of the review of Stoic principles, we discuss fatalism, or the past, the present and the future. It was the Stoics view that you were supposed to live a fatalistic life. That you should live with the view that this could be your last day on the earth. That this could be it. And for that reason, you should live passionately in the moment. In addition to that, you should not dwell on the past neither should you fret about the future. That you should live passionately in the present moment.
If you knew, for sure, that this was your last day on the planet, what would you be doing differently? How about if you knew that this wasn't your last day, but next week, seven days from now, was your last day. How different would today be? Continuing on with that thought, say the last day is a year from now, would you be living any differently, or would you begin to have thoughts that you would condition your behaviour as the time to death drew nearer? Would you have a goal, a plan for life, that you would need to complete?
Since many of us don't know when that end date is, aren't we prone to thinking that we have unlimited time? The thought of death rarely enters our minds, yet it is the one thing that is for certain. It's the one factor in life that's absolutely certain. You will die. One day.
Stoicism therefore teaches you not to dwell on the past. The past is done. What's left of the past are lessons to be learned. You should definitely heed the lessons of the past so as not to repeat them, and you should assimilate the lessons of the past in order to do things better, but you should not live in the past, full of regret. In the same vein, you shouldn't dwell on the future. For the most part, you cannot alter the future. It will come when it does, in it's own time, and you may not even be there to witness it. This shouldn't stop you from planning for the future, saving your money, or booking for that vacation in advance. However, it should stop you from worrying about something that isn't here yet.
It's human nature, so we would like to think, to worry. Say you're going to give a presentation next week, and you're not comfortable in front of crowds. So you're nervous about an event that hasn't taken place yet. You should prepare, for that future event. You should make sure that you spend time today, making plans to succeed, in that future event. But the worry part is difficult to deal with. It's like being on death row, waiting for an execution. You know the date that you're going to be executed. However, the jail warden's still bringing you dinner, still you're reading books and watching TV. Why not take a fatalistic attitude towards all of this? Why not just give up, right now? It's because the present moment, the here and now, this very instant, is the only thing that we truly have control of. In fact, to clarify, it's not the situation that we have control over, it's our attitude towards this moment that we have control over. You can choose to be happy or sad, to be positive or negative, to be kind and consoling or harsh and rude. You can choose how to behave and how to portray yourself in this present moment.
So, the idea of fatalism is this notion that you should imagine that this is the last day, this is the last moment and that it shouldn't drive you to complacency, but rather to a heightened sense of urgency and a passionate life. That your view of the past is that of history teacher and of the future a place that you might not possibly see.
If you knew, for sure, that this was your last day on the planet, what would you be doing differently? How about if you knew that this wasn't your last day, but next week, seven days from now, was your last day. How different would today be? Continuing on with that thought, say the last day is a year from now, would you be living any differently, or would you begin to have thoughts that you would condition your behaviour as the time to death drew nearer? Would you have a goal, a plan for life, that you would need to complete?
Since many of us don't know when that end date is, aren't we prone to thinking that we have unlimited time? The thought of death rarely enters our minds, yet it is the one thing that is for certain. It's the one factor in life that's absolutely certain. You will die. One day.
Stoicism therefore teaches you not to dwell on the past. The past is done. What's left of the past are lessons to be learned. You should definitely heed the lessons of the past so as not to repeat them, and you should assimilate the lessons of the past in order to do things better, but you should not live in the past, full of regret. In the same vein, you shouldn't dwell on the future. For the most part, you cannot alter the future. It will come when it does, in it's own time, and you may not even be there to witness it. This shouldn't stop you from planning for the future, saving your money, or booking for that vacation in advance. However, it should stop you from worrying about something that isn't here yet.
It's human nature, so we would like to think, to worry. Say you're going to give a presentation next week, and you're not comfortable in front of crowds. So you're nervous about an event that hasn't taken place yet. You should prepare, for that future event. You should make sure that you spend time today, making plans to succeed, in that future event. But the worry part is difficult to deal with. It's like being on death row, waiting for an execution. You know the date that you're going to be executed. However, the jail warden's still bringing you dinner, still you're reading books and watching TV. Why not take a fatalistic attitude towards all of this? Why not just give up, right now? It's because the present moment, the here and now, this very instant, is the only thing that we truly have control of. In fact, to clarify, it's not the situation that we have control over, it's our attitude towards this moment that we have control over. You can choose to be happy or sad, to be positive or negative, to be kind and consoling or harsh and rude. You can choose how to behave and how to portray yourself in this present moment.
So, the idea of fatalism is this notion that you should imagine that this is the last day, this is the last moment and that it shouldn't drive you to complacency, but rather to a heightened sense of urgency and a passionate life. That your view of the past is that of history teacher and of the future a place that you might not possibly see.
Stoic Joy - Review 2 of 5
The second lesson that I learned from William Irving's book, A Guide to the Good Life: The Ancient Art of Stoic Joy, was to practise negative visualisation.
That's, right, negative visualisation. This is imagining bad things happening. Imagining loss, imagining your life taking a negative turn. You do this regularly as an exercise to help you strengthen the value you see what you already have.
Human beings are conditioned to want more. Like food for example. Our original conditioning to overeat was so as to store food in our bodies for those times that there might be none. For times of drought. But food is readily available, and when it is, the need for storage isn't real, and secondly the pressure to consume it isn't real. Take for example a poor person, who is starving and in need of food. A stale piece of bread would taste like a royal meal. A glass of water would be like fine wine. However, for a person who's constantly surrounded by bread and water, and therefore has no need of them, their tastes in food become much richer. The food is no longer required as sustenance, but takes on a second meaning. For pleasure. And so the palate graduates to fine meats and rare wines. And because the extra food is not required, its storage requires additional weight to the body.
The Stoics urged for the regular practise of negative visualisation. Not just when you felt like it and saw something bad. You made it a daily practise. William Irving says that he practises it on his way to work, while driving. He writes that it's helped him temper his road rage. He says that he tried picking a time at the end of the day, but that didn't work because of fatigue. But he also says that this is something that you can break our into many segments throughout the day.
Of all the advice from the Stoics this is the strongest and most controversial, but the one that defines how you transition from a philosophy of just thinking, it's all in the mind, to a philosophy of doing, of practising. Going on a diet can be a worthwhile exercise, but doesn't make you a Stoic. Some diets are hard, but some people persist on them, for various reasons. The Stoic is the person who truly enjoys the frugality of the meal.
This negative visualisation also finds a home in your personal life, your relationships. Imagining the loss of loved ones will help you take those extra measures today to appreciate them and show them your love. Not to treat them for granted. Imagining the loss of your sight, your arms or legs, will help you appreciate more how grateful you are that you can see, can touch and hold, craft things with your hands, and that you can walk or run. And even if you're missing one of these senses, imagining the loss of any more will give you that heightened sense of appreciation for the ones you have.
The point of negative visualisation is to help you appreciate the existing life and not to complain about what's missing. It's to help you realise that, indeed, life is richer than you think it is.
I personally find negative visualisation very difficult. I admit that I haven't reached a point where I'm even willing to imagine the loss of my loved ones. At least not visualise it. Imagine a life of solitude without them. I can accept the mental notion of loss, but not the reality of it. But for myself, one thing that I can do, that I can practise is the thought that one day, all of this will be gone.
And that's as far as I'm willing to take negative visualisation for now. That one day, my health will be gone and so I should take the time, right now, to enjoy the body that I have and treat it well. That the problem that I'm currently facing will fade in time, and that there's no point worrying about it. Time will take care of it.
The purpose of negative visualisation is to help you strengthen your appreciation of the things you currently have, to douse that desire to always want more and more and more. Because we're not comfortable with what we have, we always think that getting more will make us happier. That promotion will make me feel better, that new dress will make me look better, that new car will allow me to feel more comfortable, that new house will finally allow me to rest and sit back and I will have now arrived. I can then stop.
But it's that false hope, that by getting more and not being happy with what you have that negative visualisation tries to deal with. And for me, taking stock of what I have, and imagining that things could be worse, that that stuff I currently don't like could go and be replaced with stuff that's much worse, does it for me. My apartment is small, but it could be worse. I don't have a million dollars in the bank, but it could be worse. I miss certain riches and comforts in life, but it could be worse. Things could be much, much worse.
But with that I also leave you with the corollary notion to also count your blessings. In thinking of what could be worse, I also take a look around at the things that I own, the things that I have, and concentrate on appreciating them. The oatmeal breakfast is eaten as though it was the last meal on earth. My children are enjoyed to the fullest. My apartment is greeted and taken care of lovingly. Enjoy each breath and each step I take, knowing how precious it is that I can do this, and that at some time in the future, they will be gone.
That's, right, negative visualisation. This is imagining bad things happening. Imagining loss, imagining your life taking a negative turn. You do this regularly as an exercise to help you strengthen the value you see what you already have.
Human beings are conditioned to want more. Like food for example. Our original conditioning to overeat was so as to store food in our bodies for those times that there might be none. For times of drought. But food is readily available, and when it is, the need for storage isn't real, and secondly the pressure to consume it isn't real. Take for example a poor person, who is starving and in need of food. A stale piece of bread would taste like a royal meal. A glass of water would be like fine wine. However, for a person who's constantly surrounded by bread and water, and therefore has no need of them, their tastes in food become much richer. The food is no longer required as sustenance, but takes on a second meaning. For pleasure. And so the palate graduates to fine meats and rare wines. And because the extra food is not required, its storage requires additional weight to the body.
The Stoics urged for the regular practise of negative visualisation. Not just when you felt like it and saw something bad. You made it a daily practise. William Irving says that he practises it on his way to work, while driving. He writes that it's helped him temper his road rage. He says that he tried picking a time at the end of the day, but that didn't work because of fatigue. But he also says that this is something that you can break our into many segments throughout the day.
Of all the advice from the Stoics this is the strongest and most controversial, but the one that defines how you transition from a philosophy of just thinking, it's all in the mind, to a philosophy of doing, of practising. Going on a diet can be a worthwhile exercise, but doesn't make you a Stoic. Some diets are hard, but some people persist on them, for various reasons. The Stoic is the person who truly enjoys the frugality of the meal.
This negative visualisation also finds a home in your personal life, your relationships. Imagining the loss of loved ones will help you take those extra measures today to appreciate them and show them your love. Not to treat them for granted. Imagining the loss of your sight, your arms or legs, will help you appreciate more how grateful you are that you can see, can touch and hold, craft things with your hands, and that you can walk or run. And even if you're missing one of these senses, imagining the loss of any more will give you that heightened sense of appreciation for the ones you have.
The point of negative visualisation is to help you appreciate the existing life and not to complain about what's missing. It's to help you realise that, indeed, life is richer than you think it is.
I personally find negative visualisation very difficult. I admit that I haven't reached a point where I'm even willing to imagine the loss of my loved ones. At least not visualise it. Imagine a life of solitude without them. I can accept the mental notion of loss, but not the reality of it. But for myself, one thing that I can do, that I can practise is the thought that one day, all of this will be gone.
And that's as far as I'm willing to take negative visualisation for now. That one day, my health will be gone and so I should take the time, right now, to enjoy the body that I have and treat it well. That the problem that I'm currently facing will fade in time, and that there's no point worrying about it. Time will take care of it.
The purpose of negative visualisation is to help you strengthen your appreciation of the things you currently have, to douse that desire to always want more and more and more. Because we're not comfortable with what we have, we always think that getting more will make us happier. That promotion will make me feel better, that new dress will make me look better, that new car will allow me to feel more comfortable, that new house will finally allow me to rest and sit back and I will have now arrived. I can then stop.
But it's that false hope, that by getting more and not being happy with what you have that negative visualisation tries to deal with. And for me, taking stock of what I have, and imagining that things could be worse, that that stuff I currently don't like could go and be replaced with stuff that's much worse, does it for me. My apartment is small, but it could be worse. I don't have a million dollars in the bank, but it could be worse. I miss certain riches and comforts in life, but it could be worse. Things could be much, much worse.
But with that I also leave you with the corollary notion to also count your blessings. In thinking of what could be worse, I also take a look around at the things that I own, the things that I have, and concentrate on appreciating them. The oatmeal breakfast is eaten as though it was the last meal on earth. My children are enjoyed to the fullest. My apartment is greeted and taken care of lovingly. Enjoy each breath and each step I take, knowing how precious it is that I can do this, and that at some time in the future, they will be gone.
Thursday, November 10, 2011
Stoic Joy - Review 1 of 5
A Guide to the Good Life: The Ancient Art of Stoic Joy is a book by William Irving in which he describes, for the layman, the philosophy of the Stoics; Stoicism.
It's a very interesting book, well written in a simple language that explains clearly some of the principles of Stoicism. I'm not a trained philosopher in the sense that I don't have a degree from a university, though I can argue that everyone at some level is philosophical, and I haven't gone through the works of the Stoics, but a few of the principles William Irving mentioned resonated with me, and I wanted to summarise them. At least what I think were the main lessons.
They aren't in any particular order, just in the way I remember them.
The first point is being simple in living. Being simple as in having simple needs and letting go of material obsessions. This is one that's touted by many religions as well. Letting go of material things is something that every sane person will agree is a good thing. But the Stoics go a step further. The point of letting go of materialism isn't a process of self-denial. Instead you should be comfortable with the little that you have. Delight in the few things that you have. Keep busy enjoying the basic things. For example, in your diet, you should enjoy eating simple things. Rough oats, dry bread, simple water and not sumptuous meals like braised meats, exotic treats and the like. Eat when you're hungry, and not when you're bored. In today's world, this is difficult to do since our hands are left without things to do so often. But it isn't that difficult. As a runner, I know how enjoyable a slice of bread, even without butter or any spread, is after a run. It tastes wonderful, as does the sip of water. A banana or an apple take on a measure of heightened delight if you eat them because you really need them, not just want them.
The same is with your surroundings, your home, your clothes and so on. The Stoics were known to wear simple robes and often walked barefoot, to exercise their philosophy. The Romans of the time wore rich silk togas and sandals and often were well manicured. How you looked was very important and vanity fuelled the obsession to outdo one's neighbour. This hasn't changed much because today we engage in much the same behaviour. However, from the Stoics point of view, having a simple room, in which you can stay out of the cold, with a simple chair, a table, a few simple things that you can use to contemplate and think on, these are enough.
Granted, the Stoic teachers were not all frugal. Some of them were great leaders, like Marcus Aurelius were leaders. Others achieved great financial success because a great part of Stoicism is geared towards engaging in life and helping your fellow citizen.
But the mental practise should be one of satisfaction. Being comfortable with what you have immediately.
Tuesday, November 08, 2011
Hamilton marathon
I was going to blog about this race on completion, but I was too depressed to write anything. This was anything but successful. The first time I've bombed completely, unable to run.
I'd registered for the full marathon. That was a few weeks, possibly two or three, before the race. I was confident that I'd trained enough. The weekends were full of 64K runs. A marathon wouldn't be a problem. But a week before the race, my right leg started feeling very sore. Very, very sore.
I thought that it was just fatigue. I'd give it a few days rest before the race, and I'd be OK.
That was daylight saving time weekend and the clocks would be rolling back an hour. It was getting darker and darker in the mornings. On the weekend before the race, I rested. Didn't run on Saturday and didn't run on Sunday. On Monday, I went out for my normal 14K run in the morning. I was tired, not a good run and that took about an hour and a half. Not to worry, the plan that week was to run only twice, resting for five days. I thought that would be enough.
On Wednesday I went out again. I was happier this time because the pain in my knees had gone. No knee pain at all, but my right hamstring was sore.
I rested Thursday, Friday and Saturday. But I knew I couldn't finish a full marathon so I decided to switch to the half. On Saturday, when I drove my rented car to the race expo to pick up my kit, I made the switch. From full to half. That was it. A half, even with pain, would be easily do-able. I was happy and confident that this wouldn't be a problem. I'd rested a few days and even on Saturday felt as if a full marathon wasn't out of the realm of possibilities.
Saturday evening I had a nice dinner of mashed yams with carrots and some baked chicken breast. It was nourishing and the carbs from the yams would take me through the race.
I slept early and slept well and got to the event in great shape, definitely great spirits.
The Hamilton marathon and half marathon starts at a school, Saltfleet high school and runs down to Coronation Park. It's a net downhill race.
I left the house at about 5:45 AM. The plan was to get there for about 6:30, confirm that the race switch had been made, and then take the shuttle busses to the start line. This arrangement was great. There was a lot of parking at Coronation park, and what the race organisers did was shuttle all the runners from the finish, Coronation park, to the start.
At the start area, I was still confident that things were OK for a half.
The full marathon runners started at 8:15 AM and fifteen minutes later, at 8:30 AM, the half marathon horn sounded and we took off. This is the the first race this year that I didn't bring any music with me. Good thing, it would have upset me more when the frustration set in later.
The first 5K were great. Getting the legs moving and settling into my stride. The 1:30 pace bunny quickly disappeared but I was ahead of the 1:40 pace bunny and that's what really mattered. The first few kilometres went by and close to the 7K mark the 1:40 pace bunny caught up with me. I was going much slower than I'd realised and picked it up a notch, staying ahead of her.
The race got easier and more comfortable and even managed a smile. This was good. I was going to finish somewhere inside 1:40 if I just stayed relaxed and in this position. No need to push it right now, I'd save myself for the 18th or 19th K mark.
From about 8K, we started the downhill section. A long steep slope downhill. Not too bad, I relaxed into it and stretched out my stride. Down we went, long easy strides making sure I didn't jar myself too much. At the bottom of the slope, close to the 10K mark, we started uphill. My muscles switched and I was able to engage gears again. The uphill was a good change and I felt strong so I started pushing a bit harder.
All of a sudden, it happened. A snapping pain to the back of my leg, under my right glut. My right leg buckled slightly and I tried to ease off. But the pain returned on the next step even sharper forcing me to wince and come to a slow jog. I could see the water stop up ahead but I was now hobbling on one leg. I jogged to the side and put my leg up on the guardrail and stretched. The 1:40 pace bunny swept by and I felt some anger.
This will go away, I told myself and after a few brief stretches I tried to run again. But no way, the pain was too intense. It was now a sharp pain, even moving the leg, let alone run. So I hobbled along, slowly and painfully, past the water stop, grabbing a cup of water and taking a single sip.
After a few paces, I stopped completely and walked. This was very painful. I walked for a few metres and tried to run again. But my leg wasn't having any of that. More pain, this time even sharper than the initial jolt that stopped me. And so I stopped again and walked.
It continued this way. At some point, I believe it was after the 1:50 pace bunny went by me, I decided that this was the way I was going to complete this race. Walk a few paces, and then hobble a few paces. It wasn't running any longer.
As I got to the finish tunnel, it took all my strength to jog. There were so many people cheering. The 2:07 finish was miraculous, given all that walking. I jogged to the first mat, and then stopped and walked across the finish line.
Disappointed would be putting it very mildly. I was close to tears but I knew that the summer's training had been excessive. Too much running and too much mileage. Not enough strength training, definitely not enough stretching.
You live and learn and this one definitely told me that when the signs are there, it's time to slow down and take notice. Going into that race on Sunday, I felt OK. In fact, I was doing well for the first 10 to 11 K. But when I stressed my leg going up that hill, it finally snapped.
In talking to the massage therapist the following Tuesday, he told me that there was some inflammation in that tendon, it felt stretched, and I'm lucky that it didn't rupture. It could have. I was just lucky.
I'd registered for the full marathon. That was a few weeks, possibly two or three, before the race. I was confident that I'd trained enough. The weekends were full of 64K runs. A marathon wouldn't be a problem. But a week before the race, my right leg started feeling very sore. Very, very sore.
I thought that it was just fatigue. I'd give it a few days rest before the race, and I'd be OK.
That was daylight saving time weekend and the clocks would be rolling back an hour. It was getting darker and darker in the mornings. On the weekend before the race, I rested. Didn't run on Saturday and didn't run on Sunday. On Monday, I went out for my normal 14K run in the morning. I was tired, not a good run and that took about an hour and a half. Not to worry, the plan that week was to run only twice, resting for five days. I thought that would be enough.
On Wednesday I went out again. I was happier this time because the pain in my knees had gone. No knee pain at all, but my right hamstring was sore.
I rested Thursday, Friday and Saturday. But I knew I couldn't finish a full marathon so I decided to switch to the half. On Saturday, when I drove my rented car to the race expo to pick up my kit, I made the switch. From full to half. That was it. A half, even with pain, would be easily do-able. I was happy and confident that this wouldn't be a problem. I'd rested a few days and even on Saturday felt as if a full marathon wasn't out of the realm of possibilities.
Saturday evening I had a nice dinner of mashed yams with carrots and some baked chicken breast. It was nourishing and the carbs from the yams would take me through the race.
I slept early and slept well and got to the event in great shape, definitely great spirits.
The Hamilton marathon and half marathon starts at a school, Saltfleet high school and runs down to Coronation Park. It's a net downhill race.
I left the house at about 5:45 AM. The plan was to get there for about 6:30, confirm that the race switch had been made, and then take the shuttle busses to the start line. This arrangement was great. There was a lot of parking at Coronation park, and what the race organisers did was shuttle all the runners from the finish, Coronation park, to the start.
At the start area, I was still confident that things were OK for a half.
The full marathon runners started at 8:15 AM and fifteen minutes later, at 8:30 AM, the half marathon horn sounded and we took off. This is the the first race this year that I didn't bring any music with me. Good thing, it would have upset me more when the frustration set in later.
The first 5K were great. Getting the legs moving and settling into my stride. The 1:30 pace bunny quickly disappeared but I was ahead of the 1:40 pace bunny and that's what really mattered. The first few kilometres went by and close to the 7K mark the 1:40 pace bunny caught up with me. I was going much slower than I'd realised and picked it up a notch, staying ahead of her.
The race got easier and more comfortable and even managed a smile. This was good. I was going to finish somewhere inside 1:40 if I just stayed relaxed and in this position. No need to push it right now, I'd save myself for the 18th or 19th K mark.
From about 8K, we started the downhill section. A long steep slope downhill. Not too bad, I relaxed into it and stretched out my stride. Down we went, long easy strides making sure I didn't jar myself too much. At the bottom of the slope, close to the 10K mark, we started uphill. My muscles switched and I was able to engage gears again. The uphill was a good change and I felt strong so I started pushing a bit harder.
All of a sudden, it happened. A snapping pain to the back of my leg, under my right glut. My right leg buckled slightly and I tried to ease off. But the pain returned on the next step even sharper forcing me to wince and come to a slow jog. I could see the water stop up ahead but I was now hobbling on one leg. I jogged to the side and put my leg up on the guardrail and stretched. The 1:40 pace bunny swept by and I felt some anger.
This will go away, I told myself and after a few brief stretches I tried to run again. But no way, the pain was too intense. It was now a sharp pain, even moving the leg, let alone run. So I hobbled along, slowly and painfully, past the water stop, grabbing a cup of water and taking a single sip.
After a few paces, I stopped completely and walked. This was very painful. I walked for a few metres and tried to run again. But my leg wasn't having any of that. More pain, this time even sharper than the initial jolt that stopped me. And so I stopped again and walked.
It continued this way. At some point, I believe it was after the 1:50 pace bunny went by me, I decided that this was the way I was going to complete this race. Walk a few paces, and then hobble a few paces. It wasn't running any longer.
As I got to the finish tunnel, it took all my strength to jog. There were so many people cheering. The 2:07 finish was miraculous, given all that walking. I jogged to the first mat, and then stopped and walked across the finish line.
Disappointed would be putting it very mildly. I was close to tears but I knew that the summer's training had been excessive. Too much running and too much mileage. Not enough strength training, definitely not enough stretching.
You live and learn and this one definitely told me that when the signs are there, it's time to slow down and take notice. Going into that race on Sunday, I felt OK. In fact, I was doing well for the first 10 to 11 K. But when I stressed my leg going up that hill, it finally snapped.
In talking to the massage therapist the following Tuesday, he told me that there was some inflammation in that tendon, it felt stretched, and I'm lucky that it didn't rupture. It could have. I was just lucky.
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