Og and Moog. Travel with me back many thousands of years to early humans, or their ancestors. Imagine two of them, hunter gatherers Og and Moog, walking around hungry and seeing some wheat blowing in the breeze in a clearing they've come across. Imagine this is a day before anyone has ever thought of baking anything, except maybe wild boar on an open fire. Og stops and stares and has a creative moment, saying, and I translate here from cave man talk, "You know, some of that would make a nice loaf of bread." Moog replies, "Loof! Loof!" Then a cow walks by and Og says, "Yeah, a hot loaf smeared with ... butter." And Moog just looks at him, puzzled. My point of course is a simple one. We need in our time to be able to do the equivalent of looking at wheat grains and seeing for the first time bread, or at a cow and envisioning butter. It's much more than seeing an oak in an acorn, by a big leap. It involves the mystery of our own alchemy, the transformative creativity, the ability to make beyond what anyone else has ever imagined, that's sleeping deep in our souls most of the time. We need to awaken it in our day, more of us than ever before, and see the world around us not just as it is, but as it could be. And then get to work baking the bread we need. We need to be like Og. Amen?
There's cognitive memory and muscle memory. That's well known. I suspect there's also moral memory.
Sometimes, cognitive memory is easy. You have an experience and you later remember it. Sometimes it's hard. I had to work for days to memorize the famous "To be or not to be" passage in Hamlet, and even longer to get the Saint Crispin's Day Speech down perfectly. You should have heard me motivating the troops as I drove to the grocery store, my "band of brothers" ready for anything. I did it over and over and over. And that's the recipe for muscle memory as well. There is a cumulative readiness in the nerves and musculature cultivated by repetition and awaiting the next spark for a nearly automatic flow of your tennis serve or golf swing or guitar chord progression. Moral memory I take to be similar.
It's all about wisdom and that part of wisdom known as virtue, though we can equally well and more traditionally think of wisdom as one of the virtues, even if perhaps wildly the most important one, since it may encompass all the rest, both generally and situationally. Yeah, I know. That won't fit on a bumper sticker or LinkedIn poster or get 2,000 "likes." But it's true. And the implication for us today is that your moral choices, to attend, to focus, to feel or to act, are cumulative as well. The sheer repetition sets up a memory in your soul making you more likely the next time to focus or feel in that way. Because of this, moral goodness gets easier with practice. But so does moral degradation and corruption, as we can see in the news daily. Every choice adds up. There are no exceptions. We’re never just doing, we’re always becoming. Small actions create small habits and they become big and deep traits of character.
With this in mind, take care to build your wisdom in little things, then you'll have it readily and almost automatically available in big things. It's something important to know and to remember.
The Covid masks inspired by my new book! I hope you get to see it soon! Let me know!
Be still my heart! (Well, not too still.) A current reader of Plato's Lemonade Stand just posted this statement and this photo of her new beverage and masks, based on my new book, which has made my day!
<<Plato’s Lemonade Stand is the most perfect book for these trying times. Your whole family can benefit as part of an integrity-filled curriculum.
Excerpt from Chapter 2, Handling The Lemons: “In the face of life’s lemons, it’s vital to remember we have the power that can help us deal creatively with any challenge, the power of the imagination. And this resource is immense. A piece of advice follows from this fact: Use your imagination well. This is the third rule in the art of self-control: Don’t rush to judgement; value the right things; and use your imagination well. When we put our imaginations to work in service of our ideals, we position ourselves for the best response to change” (Page 51).
My “When Life Gives You Lemons” Covid-masks and delicious lemonade recipe (included on last page of book) are in homage to Tom Morris for allowing me to creatively use my talents and imagination.>>
Thanks, Leigh!!! I’ve gotten Amazon to drop the price of the Kindle ebook from $9.99 to just $2.99 (the lowest they’d let me go) in order to get it into people’s lives when it’s really needed, NOW!
I’d love to hear from any other readers who find the new book inspiring! To see it, click HERE.
Philosophy is an object of study that's ultimately meant to be a way of life.
Philosophy can confuse and confound, irritate and even enrage before it enlightens. But it will ultimately justify its pursuit and contribute to a distinctive inner peace.
A little philosophy is a dangerous thing because it easily raises questions that can be answered only with great effort in more philosophy.
At the root of philosophy is the love and quest for wisdom. And at the heart of wisdom is compassion. If anyone purports to espouse philosophy, but without compassion, walk away.
Philosophy is questioning what others take for granted, and seeking to understand whatever can be understood among life’s most important matters and mysteries.
Philosophy will not stay silent in the face of lies, ugliness, evil, or alienation because it values Truth, Beauty, Goodness, and Unity.
Philosophy is a calling for some, a reminder for all, and a resource at each of life's big junctures.
Philosophy at its best encourages not just the good of a few but the proper inner health of us all.
This has gotten a lot of response on Twitter and Facebook, so I wanted to revisit it here. I hope you enjoy these short ruminations.
Philosophy: A Few Thoughts.
Philosophy is about getting your bearings in this world we've all been dropped into. It's about Wisdom. And that means it’s about Truth. And Beauty. And Goodness. And Unity.
Philosophy can be hard, but all of us are, in a sense, homespun philosophers, trying our best to interpret our experience of this wild, surprising world.
We think of the great philosophers in the past as old, bearded eminences in togas or stiff collars. But they often pondered at young ages and just kept it up.
Philosophy isn’t male or female; young or old; white, or black, or brown. It's all of us seeking to understand our common nature and world.
Philosophy smiles on any of us who will keep it company for a time. It's not great at quick meet-and-greets. It likes to walk with us a while.
Philosophy isn't for show, or profit, or fame. It's the art of living well in any circumstances. It's first inner, then outer in its effects.
Philosophy is an array of habits and skills—of thinking, feeling, and doing. It's not just theory. It's a deep recipe for true flourishing.
Philosophy is a calling, whatever your job. It's a mission of wonder and investigation, curiosity and contemplation, and mostly: perspective.
Philosophy is well acquainted with my better self, and is always wanting to get us together.
I speak of philosophy as if it's singular. But like HipHop, Soul, Rock, Country, and Jazz, it has many manifestations. Yet, they’re all family.
Philosophy has two faces—one fierce, and the other: endlessly compassionate.
Philosophy is: questions in search of answers, in search of questions. And so on. It's the most recursive of discursive endeavors, forever.
Some philosophers build houses of thought. Others stay on the move.
“Each second we live in a new and unique moment of the universe, a moment that never was before and will never be again.” - Pablo Casals
I find this observation of the obvious to be both profound and inspiring. But I also know that there are a lot of pseudo-intellectuals in public life who would scornfully dismiss it, and label it tautological, or trivial, or trite—a platitude that tells us nothing we didn't already know, long ago, and that we don't need a musician to tell us. But then again, as Georg Christoph Lichtenberg said once about how critics view a longer form of the written word, "A book is a mirror. If an ape looks into it, an apostle is hardly likely to look out." We see what we're capable of seeing, and typically no more.
Philosophy is most often about digging deep into the obvious and finding the treasures that hide there. This remark by Pablo Casals reminds me to make each moment count, to seize the day, to venture boldly forth within the possibilities that each new moment affords me, and not to let any of these precious opportunities go to waste. Life can be a thrilling ride. It's a swirl of unique chances to grow and do and make a difference. Casals is certainly one who, within his own lifetime, made the most of this insight. We would all do well to follow his lead.
When someone of intellect and sensitivity draws our attention to a familiar facet of the world, it's not usually because he or she thinks we've never noticed the most superficial aspect of that thing; it's normally due to the fact that if we view it properly, it can contain within itself a spark, a goad, and an inspiration for us to enjoy.
I’m standing in the Charlotte airport waiting to board a plane to Houston. And I’m well positioned, ten minutes ahead of time, in the Priority Boarding Lane of Gate C18. There’s a guy on the other side of a fat vertical column who has a cough every bit as thick as the cement post. It’s rich and deep - and quite impressive, in fact. It’s both frequent and explosive. I also hear the man sniffing. He’s really sick. I hope he’s not going to be sitting anywhere near me. It’s a big plane, an Airbus 320. There are hundreds of seats. But still, you know what they say about microbes in recycled airplane air. If he’s in the cargo area, I’m in trouble. That’s the sort of thing you learn from watching too many TV news shows.
But he’s here at the Priority Lane. A scary thought crosses my mind. Maybe like me, he’s in first class. That would be really bad. It’s a long flight and close quarters. But no, I remind myself, he could just be Platinum Preferred and able to get on soon, but will be sitting in the last row in the back of the plane. Yeah, that could happen. And maybe, just maybe, the germs would stay back there in his vicinity. He coughs again, thunderously.
I start hatching likely scenarios to keep me from worrying. He got here for this flight, last minute, up from his sickbed, or the hospital, and is going to board early because of the long walk ahead of him, far from my designated seat, 3A, which I chose just days ago when I switched flights to avoid predicted thunderstorms and tornadoes. Surely, my general good fortune will keep me at a safe distance from this germ distribution center. Did I mention that he never masks his cough with a hand or arm or anything? Yeah. He prefers to project out into the airport air more generally, getting those particles as far from his body as he can. I guess he figures that the rest of us can just take our chances. Where’s TSA when you really need them?
So we board. I’m the second guy on the plane. Mr. Sick is not third, or fourth, or fifth, or even sixth. Good. I feel relieved. Maybe he was just standing near me in the gate area for no good reason and he'll be in the back of the plane, after all, or possibly - hope springs eternal - he’s on another plane altogether. And even if - worst case scenario - he is on this plane and joins us in first class, there are 12 seats, which means 10 chances out of 11 that he will be in a seat that will keep me relatively isolated from his hawking, spewing, spraying barks of disease.
And now, here’s where I let out a big sigh. You can probably see already what’s going to happen. I couldn’t, eternal optimist that I am. And there he is, the human aerosol, hacking his way onto the plane and down the aisle. He’s not in row one. Not in row two. Ok. Then I see him stop and lift his roller-bag into the overhead compartment … right above my third row. Oh, no.
But there’s no need to panic. Row 3 has two seats across the wide aisle and well away from me - 3D and 3F. I quickly do the math. There are only 4 seats in the row, with 3 now available, and 2 of those are options I could live with. My chances are good. And, of course, he sits down in neither of these less harmful spots, but in 3C, right up beside me. My elbow is inches from his. The coughs continue, but after some hot coffee they slow down to merely one every 20 seconds or so. They’re still impressively powerful. The back of the seat in front of his is now more teeming with viral and bacterial flora and fauna than a petri dish in Mass General Hospital.
I lean as far up against the window as I can. I become one with the safety glass. What are my options? A massive attack of stomach gas on my part might encourage his own avoidance posture. Yeah, that would get him leaning in the opposite direction like nothing else. But this obvious tactic seems not to be an option right now. And that’s more than a little ironic, isn’t it? There are things in life that never seem to be available when you could most use them, and yet insistently near to hand when you least desire their advent. We live in a funny world. He coughs again to punctuate my sentence, and as if to mock my own normal and stubbornly reticent inner bodily functions.
I started writing this so I won’t have to face him and talk. The flight attendants serve food. He'll have the crepes. I'll have the caniptions. I practically bathe in Purell Hand Sanitizer. And I keep my food well out of his repeated spray pattern. I eat quickly so that ambient infectious particles can’t alight on the biscuit. I use more hand stuff.
An hour passes like this. The pilot announces we’re ONLY an hour and twenty minutes out from our destination and the possibilities of detox. By now, I’ve used most of my sanitizer, which I truly want to squirt down my seat companion’s mouth, but I’m already far too close to the volcanic orifice, continually erupting as it is, like Old Faithful. Where’s a surgical mask when you need one?
There he goes again. Everyone else on the plane is sitting quietly and like me trying not to breathe at all. No one else is coughing. Just this one guy inches from my face. At least I’m not flying to London with him. As it is, we should be met at the gate in Houston by a HazMat Team. And I’ve got the busiest week of the year coming up in a few days. I really should get this guy’s name, address, and legal contact, in case I need to sue him. But I can't turn to speak to him.
There should be some limits on who can get onto a crowded plane. In this guy’s present condition, he needed to be airlifted to Texas - medivac style - and hooked up to something in the presence of only people in decontamination suits.
This all leads me to reflect on the stuff we can’t control in life. All things considered, I guess this guy beats a tornado, but not by much. But why did that have to be my choice in the first place? Why do we get into situations like this at all? I’m a philosopher, and I don’t have the answer to that one. But it causes me to reflect. I do know that this epidemiological nighmare guy gave me a new sense of my own concerns and anxieties, and a clear chance to rise above the fatalism that our situation clearly seemed to suggest. And I now realize that, despite him, I’ll be fine. I'll rev up my immune system with the power of postivie belief. All is well, at least with my soul.
And then I sniff.
In an airport bookstore the other day, I bought a book that ended up being much better and far more fun than I had hoped. It's called 10% Happier: How I tamed the Voice in My Head, Reduced Stress Without Losing My Edge, And Found Self-Help That Actually Works - A True Story. Maybe I was just impressed with the subtitle, that pretty much took up most of the cover. It's by a top network news guy named Dan Harris. And it's really good.
Dan is a highly competitive person in a crazy competitive business and he had gotten so accustomed to the unhelpful nagging critical and often angry voice in his head dogging him throughout the day that he just assumed he was stuck with its stress and negative energy. I won't give away the story, but he discovers the world of self-help and meditation and approaches it all as a very skeptical guy - very funny, and cynical to boot. At some level, he realizes that he needs some help with his inner stress. But he interviews several of the top people who claim to have the answers and comes away just perplexed. There's some great gossip in here, by the way, if you go for that sort of thing - some nice celebrity stories and crazy tales you can enjoy in addition to what you'll learn that's of value.
If you ever wondered about meditation as something you should maybe consider, but didn't know where to start or who to believe about it, then do yourself a favor and get this book. And when you're done laughing, just sit and think about your breath for 5 minutes, in and out. And repeat daily. And, if you're anything like Dan, you'll start noticing a difference, not consistently at first, but over time. And you may even write me a note to thank me for telling you about the book.
You're welcome.
In preparation for a trip across the country not long ago, I did something I rarely do: I took one of my own books along to read. It was The Stoic Art of Living: Inner Resilience and Outer Results. It was published ten years ago, and I had not re read it since the early days after it first appeared on bookstore shelves. I tried to approach it objectively, as I would any book. And I have to admit that I really enjoyed it! I had forgotten various little discoveries I had made when I first wrote the original draft of the book, going back almost twenty years. The top three Roman stoics, the slave Epictetus, the prominent lawyer Seneca, and Roman Emperor Marcus Aurelius had great and practical insights about life that can tremendously enhance our experience of the world today. Their wisdom, at its best, will never go out of style.
The stoics had many perspectives that can help us. Inner resilience is the best path for outer results. Things are not often what they seem. Most of our difficulties come not from the world, but from how we think about things in the world. Nothing can truly harm a good person. By changing our thoughts, we can change our lives. Nothing is to be feared. And I could go on. But, to me, perhaps chief among their insights was the claim that joy is our natural state.
Think about that for a second. Joy is our natural state. If any stoic philosopher was right in thinking this, then either you are experiencing joy right now, or there is some unnatural, unnecessary obstacle in your life blocking that joy, and it's an obstacle you can remove.
If you are, right now, in a state of joy, congratulations. If you aren't, then you should be asking yourself what's getting in the way. What's blocking you from the state of mind that should be your natural default setting? The possibilities are many. And you can't do anything about the ones operative in your life right now until you can identify them. The stoics were confident that, whatever the obstacles might be, you can eliminate them through controlling your emotions, and in turn, you can do that by controlling your thoughts. It's just that simple.
The stoics were philosophers who wanted to help us peel back the worry and anger, the suffering and agitation, the distraction and confusion that too often rules our lives, and get back to the natural state of joy. When we experience that natural joy, we flow forward with all the power that we're meant to have in this life. And that's the power, in the deepest sense, of love.
What's keeping us from it?
"Things are not always what they seem." Phaedrus.
Appearances and realities. Don’t you wish you could easily tell them apart? Plato diagnosed our condition long ago. He believed that most people live lives of illusion, imprisoned by appearances, unable to break through to the underlying realities of life. How does anyone break free and grasp bedrock truth? With philosophy. By using the wisdom of others as well as your own powers of discernment.
First of all question. Then, secondly, question some more. Anticipate motives. Ponder spin. Peel back the first layers of what presents itself. Dodge the deceptive surfaces that come your way. What’s at issue, really? And whose interests are at stake? Don’t always trust your senses or even initial judgments. Be a detective. Interrogate appearances. Dig deeper. And then be prepared to trust your heart, after the probing you most often need to do.
A really good book on asking questions to peel back appearances is Water Berger's recent effort, A More Beautiful Question. Another one for business people is Larry Bossidy and Ram Charan's short book Execution.
The stoics often said that almost nothing is as good as it seems or as bad as it seems, so we all need to calm down. Use this advice. And help others to benefit from it.
Today.
"A nail is driven out by another nail; habit is overcome by habit." Erasmus.
Have you ever tried to break a bad habit and been really shocked by its aggravating resiliency? Habit is like a second nature. We breathe by nature. We do many other things by second nature, or habit.
Without habit, we couldn’t live. Life would be far too complicated if we had to always go around figuring out what sock and shoe to put on first in the morning. We have habits to make life possible. But the wrong ones quickly make life miserable.
How do you break the power of a bad habit? First, by the power of the imagination. You use your imagination to picture vividly where the bad behavior is taking you, envisioning the disasterous results as luridly as possible, and then picture just as clearly some alternative behavior and its contrary, great future. Then you act to establish a suitably contrary habit. No one finds it easy to just stop some form of self-destructive ineffective behavior that has become habitual. Bad habits are displaced by better habits.
Let me say that again. Bad habits are displaced by better habits.
If you need to make a change in your life, use the wisdom of the great Rennaissance thinker Erasmus. Take a new nail to drive out the old one. Work at forming a new habit that will displace the old and still serve whatever positive purpose the old one did, but better, and without the negative consequences. Use your imagination. And get moving.
Today.
"No matter how often you are defeated, you are born to victory." Emerson.
No one is in the world for the purpose of failure. No one was born because there was a need for more rejection, dismissal, and defeat.
Too many people operate on the old “Three strikes and you’re out” mentality. I once had a professor who gave me some unsolicited but very helpful advice about submitting articles to professional philosophy journals for possible publication. He said: “Don’t even THINK about being discouraged until you’ve been rejected at least six times!” Shortly after that conversation, my first book was rejected thirty six times. At that point, I must admit that I was thinking very seriously about being discouraged. It was an obvious option. Depression was even a possibility. But the thirty seventh publisher I approached said yes. And I was a published author at the age of twenty-two.
One author I’ve heard about has wall-papered his office with rejection letters. Some of the top all time hit songs have been recorded by performers who were told repeatedly that they had no chance at all. There are great actors whose first two or three or seven movies were all bombs. We won't even speak of all the actors who dream about being in any kind of movie, even a terrible one, while they finish yet another long shift as waiters in LA restaurants, or clerks in stores there. How many times have they heard "No"?
A professor out west mailed his prized manuscript to a major publisher hoping for a quick ascent to fame and fortune. A month later, an envelope arrived by return mail containing literally the ashes of his hard work.
Don’t let little defeats get you down. Even repeated defeats. As Emerson said a hundred and fifty years ago, we are indeed all born to victory. We can rise again from any ashes we encounter.
"Nothing happens to anyone that he's not formed by nature to bear." Marcus Aurelius.
We are all, in one way or another, products of nature, whether you view the universe as a realm of divinely created nature, or in some other way. Calamities and disappointments, pains and troubles are then all also offshoots of the overall system of nature as well, viewed in the broadest possible scope. Any bad thing is then in some sense nature affecting nature. I think this is part of the background of Emperor Marcus Aurelius’ assurance that we are prepared by nature to deal with anything that comes our way.
From this point of view, there's not a problem for which no solution exists. The system that's given rise to the problem has also provided the resources we can access to deal with the problem. So we can be comforted in this assurance, however difficult our experience at times might be.
We fear being overwhelmed. We need not ever be. We have major resources, beyond what we understand.
The devout have been saying it longer than determined stoics like Marcus have. God will never put on you more than you can bear. Struggle is meant to elicit strength. Difficulty never exceeds the possibility for hope. And sometimes, the best way to deal with a difficulty is release.
In one of my favorite books ever, The Measure of My Days, Florida Scott Maxwell reflects back on her life from her eighties and expresses how surprised she is that the things hardest for her to bear, those difficulties, or developments in life that she least liked at the time, eventually gave rise to the qualities of character within her that she most treasures. That's the way it's supposed to work.
Have you been feeling overwhelmed by a problem, or do you know anyone who’s feeling that way? If you can put into use this great stoic philosopher’s insight, you can open yourself to the inner peace and confidence you need to face the future well and without fear.
This is a true story in every detail. Last night, I dreamed that I was at a comedy club, sitting somewhere up front. And, before I knew it, I was in front of the crowd and I was telling jokes, extemporaneously. I suddenly woke up from sleep in the middle of it all, but the dream somehow still continued in my head. I looked at a watch on the bedside table. It was 6 AM. I thought about getting up to write down what I was seeing and hearing, but the jokes weren’t that good. So I stayed in bed and watched myself do the rest of the unplanned act. Then I got up and ate breakfast, as many professional comedians do after a late show, perused the New York Times, and decided I should write down my mid-late-summer-night’s dream.
It was open mike night at the comedy club, and the first three people up had been pretty good. Then there was a long lull. At some point, I got up from my chair to go to the men’s room, but as I crossed over the front of the club, the proprietor got the wrong idea and shoved a microphone at me, and then a spotlight swiveled in my direction. I was completely taken by surprise. And what I said came over the sound system loud and clear.
No, no, no, I’m a professional philosopher. [Laughter] Don’t laugh, it’s true [Chuckles] – or maybe, do laugh, in honor of our context, but not at me, of course, or my choice of work, if you can call it that. [Scattered chortles]
No, I’m serious. I actually hold three degrees in philosophy, and they cost so much, I refuse to put them down. Well, technically, I earned only two degrees, but when my time at the university ended and I had to explain to my mother that I had chosen to study philosophy, she gave me the third degree – questioning of which Socrates would have been proud, and nearly up to the standards of what the CIA calls “enhanced interrogation.”
Once she had pronounced the word ‘philosophy’ properly and enunciated it a second time, she said, with a look of sheer disbelief, “Who’s ever going to pay you to know about philosophy?” And, like with every other philosophy question, I found myself … not at all sure of the answer.
But I imagine that Aristotle’s mother worried, too. She probably had something more practical in mind for him, like real estate. But he stuck with philosophy, and did pretty well. He invented logic. Not that anyone wants to use it, but still, it was a big deal. His mother probably ended up quite proud, but I’m sure she had her days.
And then, I bet the mother of Aristotle’s most famous student also worried the day that the inventor of logic showed up to teach her son, Alexander the Great. First, can you imagine going through life with a name like that? “Hi. I’m Alexander the Great.” The other kids must have teased him mercilessly. “Hey, if you’re so great, how come I’m the one holding your lunch money?” There were a lot of bullies and stolen drachmas along the way. No wonder he ended up wanting to conquer and dominate. And, with his immersion in philosophy, he did pretty well for himself – ironically, in real estate, where his holdings were once described as “the known world.” Not bad at all.
But my mother was worried. And it’s probably no coincidence that I also ended up with a license in real estate. I’m not kidding. And that made my mother proud. I mean, she was also proud of her son the doctor, even though it was a PhD. She had always thought MD, Medical Doctor, or JD, Juris Doctor, not PhD, Phoney Doctor.
The day I officially became a Doctor of Philosophy, I remember well, I was in a small store an hour later, not far from the Yale Campus (notice how I slipped that in – we philosophers are always polishing our resumes for any job that might be out there), and I signed the credit card slip with my usual, big, sloppy signature. The young clerk looked at it and then at me and said, “Are you a doctor?”
I said, “Well, yes,” and before I could give him the sort of long and detailed explanation that we philosophers always like to provide for nearly anything, he showed me a rash on his arm and said, “I’ve got this skin irritation and it’s really bad. What should I do?” Well, I didn’t know how to react to that except to say, “It looks like contact dermatitis. Soak it in warm salt water, which is called ‘Dakin’s Solution,’ and do this three times a day, and in a week or two it should be gone.”
The guy said, “Wow, thanks.” Then, as I turned to leave with my merchandise, he asked, “What kind of doctor are you?”
I said, “Epistemologist,” and got out of there as quickly as I could.
That’s a completely true story. But I digress. I’m a real doctor, of philosophy, and the author of 20 published books. I should clarify that this is the number that have actually been printed and sold. It’s a shame. They said that the new technology for publishing was such a great thing – it’s called “Print on Demand.” I should have realized that, for most philosophy books, there’s a problem with that approach. There’s actually no demand. I mean, in a world of shrinking Kierkegaardians and expanding Kardashians, the profundity market has gotten pretty small. I’ve even heard that they’re about to shut off the lights at most major philosophy departments. But that shouldn’t be a problem. Philosophers have been groping in the dark for centuries.
Are there any philosophy majors here tonight? Raise your hand. Come on. Let’s see a show of hands, please. Ok. One guy, raising his hand with great hesitation and a look on his face that says he’s not really sure about doing this. But, hey, a philosophy major ends up being not very sure about anything. And, this is a comedy club, so I can quote on this point another philosophy major and comedian, the great Steve Martin, who once said that, no matter what your major is in college, two years later you forget it all. Except for one choice. If you major in philosophy, you’ll remember just enough to mess you up for the rest of your life. Am I right? Our philosophy major is nodding agreement – a historic moment, the first time in all of human history that two philosophers have agreed on anything, and it happened right here, right now. And if we include Steve, it’s actually three of us. We should call the newspaper. Or, at least, so it seems to me. I can’t, of course, be sure.
You know, there aren’t that many philosophy majors at all these days, as you might imagine. And it’s a bit strange that there are any who do it successfully. I mean, if you think that majoring in philosophy would be a smart career move for you, then, maybe, you’re not quite bright enough to be studying it in the first place. It’s a real dilemma.
But I did it, and I continue to practice it for a living, I mean philosophy, spending my days doing what professional philosophers do – thinking, pondering, reasoning. Our friends and families should have a support group like ALANON: maybe call it PHILANON. “He’s just sitting around the house thinking all the time. I can’t take it any more.” – “I know what you mean. My husband objects to everything I say and to half the things that he says himself. It’s driving me crazy!” Therapy could help – or at least group empathy and commiseration.
But, as I said earlier, I do also write books. And, the last time I was here at this club, some years ago, I hate to say, I brought one of them with me. And I remember well what happened. I put it down on a table and turned away for a few seconds and some guy nabbed it and took off. Yeah, really! A purloined philosophy book!
But a block away from the club, a cop saw him looking suspicious and grabbed him and saw what he had taken, and realized that all he could accuse him of, in the situation, was: clearly not understanding the concept of theft. He explained to the guy that theft involves wrongfully taking something of value, and that what he had done was disqualified on numerous grounds. First, a book of academic philosophy has no clear practical value. Second, it’s not obvious that you can wrongfully take such a book from anyone. You’re actually doing them a favor. You’re saving them the agony of reading all the incomprehensible sentences and serpentine arguments to be found therein, not to mention all the words like ‘therein’. It’s not a criminal act, but an altruistic one, almost like falling on a live grenade to save another person, or grabbing a poisonous snake away from a toddler.
But then, the guy made it worse for himself when he said, “I took it because I liked the cover.” It did have a very pretty cover. But the cop knew that judging a book by its cover was one of the cardinal fallacies in philosophy. And so, he reasoned that, ironically, maybe the guy really needed to read such a book of philosophy after all.
Beyond that, the cop saw right away that what the guy had stolen was … a book on ethics – yeah, ethics. And, of course, that’s exactly the sort of guy who should have such a book in his possession, who actually needs the book. In a sense, you could say, it’s rightfully his. I mean, who better to have and read a book on ethics than a guy who stole it? It’s a larceny that somehow reaches the level of serendipity.
And I’m pleased to report that the whole situation worked out well in the end. The guy avoided jail time. And he actually read the book. So I do have at least one reader out there. Amazing. And it gets even better. My reader turned his life around, got an education, and double majored in business ethics and criminal law, two specialties that nowadays seem to be exceptionally well suited for each other.
But, well, hey. That’s enough from me. You’ve been a great audience. And I was just on my way to the men’s room. So, as they say, I gotta go. Thanks!
"Tear yourself from delay." Horace.
Haste makes waste, right? Yeah, often. So care, deliberation, and preparation are the proper precursors of effective action. But procrastination is their unhelpful first cousin. And it’s procrastination that may just be the most common source of deferred dreams in the world.
Eastern philosophers tell us that it’s important in life to know when to act and when to refrain from acting. In some situations, patient non-action is exactly what’s called for. But where non-action is most needed, it's also most difficult. And where it’s easiest, it’s most often not advisable.
And that's the sure sign of procrastination. It's easy. It's effortless. And that's funny, because when you're procrastinating from what you know you should be doing, you often put monumental effort into doing things that don't need to be done.
I used to be like that. If I had a writing deadline, that would be the only time I would thoroughly clean my office, at a ridiculous level of clean that laboratory scientists could admire. And then I'd start washing cars. And walking dogs. Everything but writing.
It's easy not to do what you need to do because the world is full of other things you can do instead. Like reading blogs. But of course, I'd never want to discourage you from reading the right blogs! Just don't let your online life keep you from having an offline one and getting the right things, the real things, the necessary things done!
Are you putting off something that you really know you need to do? Don’t take any comfort from the philosophy of non-action. Take action instead. Overcome the inertia that's holding you back. Defeat the powers of procrastination. Tear yourself from delay. And do something, however small, toward your postponed goal.
Today. Yeah. Today
"The world envies success." Thus spake Barbara Streisand, as quoted in the Sunday New York Times.
Is that true? It may well be. In any case, let's suppose it is. Then we have the question: Why?
Well, for one thing, I've seen far too many people pursue success in what becomes an almost totally selfish way - presenting the specter of one small ego ludicrously inflating itself and fighting hard to rise above all others, who are often either doing the same, or keeping busy resenting those who are. An old Hindu proverb says, "True nobility consists not in being better than some other man, but in being better than your previous self." From a deeper perspective, success isn't about beating others. It's about developing yourself.
An Australian once told me that, in her culture, people resented stand-out success, almost always seeing it as an unfortunate and unseemly assertion of the self over others. But could Streisand be right that it's ultimately envy that underlies even such resentment?
I've come to believe that we're all born to flourish and succeed, with our own talents, in our own ways, and on whatever stage is right for us. That success could look very small from the world's point of view, or large. But consider the possibility that any such appearances that seem to equate size with importance are just wrong. When we unconsciously believe that bigger is always better, and judge size by physical parameters such as money, fame, and power, then we put ourselves into a position where unnecessary and inappropriate envy can indeed arise.
Consider the possibility that common standards of success are just crude measures that sometimes manage to mark real achievement and life impact, but that also just as often miss the heart of the matter altogether. A humble person with a small life may be a huge success in things that really matter. And perhaps that's the sort of success that should be envied.
Are you making the positive difference that you're here to make? Don't waste your time worrying about whether your current form of success is big enough by the standards of the culture around you. Just be concerned about whether it's right for you. And if you're not yet where you truly want to be, you'll have a clearer sense of the direction you need to move in.
Know yourself. Know your proper form of success. And work toward it with a mindset that allows others their own suitable forms, however different, and without resentment or misplaced envy.
Today.
“It just shows what can be done by taking a little trouble,” said Eeeyore. “Do you see, Pooh? Do you see Piglet? Brains first and then Hard Work.” Eeyore, From Winnie the Pooh
As a young graduate student, I once bought three large metal bookcases that required assembly. I’ll never forget the night I spent putting them together. After hours of work, I realized that I had been doing it all wrong. I hadn’t read the instructions. And I hadn’t used my own brain for thinking through the implications of what I was doing and how I was doing it. Especially as a philosopher, it shocks me how often in my life I could say the same thing: I failed to use my brain for thinking through the implications of what I was doing, or how I was doing it, until I faced some unexpected consequences, usually involving a big mess.
Eeyore has it right here. Work hard without using your brain well, and you may be surprised at the mess you create. Brains first, and only then will hard work pay off. Make sure you’re thinking before you act, as a regular practice. The work will be so much more effective and have more positive results. It’s a simple lesson that Piglet, Pooh, me and you can all use.
We know what it is for a word to have a meaning, or a gesture, or even a look. But what is it for a life to have a meaning -- or for life itself to have one? We speaking of the meaning of life, but exactly what are we referring to?
Certainly, each of us is free to decide what shape our lives will take, in terms of our values and decisions, our aims and our actions. We can say, or think, such things as: The meaning of my life is to serve others. Or: The meaning of my life is to pursue pleasure. Or: The meaning of my life is to gain as much money and power and status as I can. We can choose goals and purposes. But what, if anything, can make those choices and purposes themselves meaningful? Are all such choices equal? Or are some such choices in better alignment with something objective, some contour of reality that our lives are best lived by, some principle that should guide us if we want truly meaningful lives?
When I was writing the book If Aristotle Ran General Motors, which, despite its business title, is just as much about personal happiness and fulfillment as it is about organizational excellence, I wanted to include a chapter on "Business and the Meaning of Life." To do so helpfully, I had to answer the question for myself as to whether there is an overall meaning of life, and if so, what exactly it is. In the sense of meaning I was pursuing, it would have to be something that would give purpose and sense to our choices at the deepest possible level. It would have to be congruent with some noble aim, or intent, that might have been recognized by the deepest philosophies and spiritual literatures throughout history, however obliquely. After monumental reading and thinking, analysis and imagination, I hit on what I thought, and still think, distills all the world's best wisdom on the issue.
The meaning of life is creative love, or loving creativity. A life that is organized in disregard of this objective requirement will, to the extent that it departs from this, lack full and proper meaning of the deepest and most positive sort. A life that aligns with it will be, to that extent, a meaningful and fulfilling existence.
There's a deep sense in which the phrase "creative love" is a redundancy, because I believe that all genuine love is essentially creative. But it's a useful redundancy, reminding us of something crucial. The phrase "loving creativity" is not redundant in this way, since it is certainly possible to be creative in unloving, cruel, and even sadistic ways. The creativity that is at the core of life's meaning is a type of activity that expresses love.
So. In my view, the meaning of life is creative love, or loving creativity. When we live in harmony with this eternal value, we live great, meaningful, and fulfilling lives. When we don't, we don't. Our chief challenge, day to day, is to be loving in creative ways, and creative in loving ways. And when we do that, everything else can fall into place.
For a further elaboration of this and what it means, you can consult the book, available in many libraries, or my more recent book, Philosophy for Dummies, available at almost every large bookstore.
The greater the difficulty, the greater the glory.
Cicero
Hardly anything worth doing is easy. But that’s ok. The harder we’ve had to work for something, the more we appreciate it once it happens. The great essaist Montaigne once made a related point when he said: “The honor of the conquest is rated by the difficulty.”
If you’re working toward a noble goal, something truly worth your time and effort, then don’t let it get you down when the process of realizing your dream takes a lot more time and work than you had imagined. Think about the sense of satisfaction that ultimately awaits you. And hang in there now. Satisfying success will justify your struggle.
"But what if I don't succeed after all the struggle?"
I'd be disappointed if you didn't ask. And yet, the answer is simple. If you succeed through struggle, you can grow. If you fail through struggle, you can grow. To grow is not to fail, but to succeed in one of our most important tasks in this life. So, if you struggle well, you can't completely fail. One way or the other, you succeed by growing.
Let me quote Elizabeth Kubler Ross:
The most beautiful people we have known are those who have known defeat, known suffering, known struggle, known loss, and have found their way out of the depths. These persons have an appreciation, a sensitivity, and an understanding of life that fills them with compassion, gentleness, and a deep loving concern. Beautiful people don't just happen.
Difficulty, struggle, and hardship can create beauty, if we let it - beautiful results, beautiful growth, and a beautiful strength within. So, when you struggle, struggle with your head up, and your hope afloat. Something good can happen from this. Beauty can result.
Ok. First of all, I have absolutely nothing against having a new idea go viral overnight and waking up to discover I have a new reality TV show, 5 million Twitter followers, a private jet, and a seven figure endorsement deal from the Library Association. That would be my definition of sweet (as defined also in dictionaries available nationwide in your local public library - I'd get 10K just for adding that little factoid. But I digress). Instant success has its charms. But, there is a nubby weave behind the smooth tapestry of most outsized success. And that, right now, is my concern.
Let me read to you from the actual paper version of today's New York Times Book Review. Turning through it, I came across a page entitled "Devilish Audacity" where John Simon reviews a new biography of Sir Lawrence Olivier (Olivier, by Philip Ziegler), who was said by many to be the greatest actor of his time (in addition to "the most dashing of actors" and "the most seductive of human beings" - among many other superlatives). Simon helpfully summarizes an important point in the new book about Olivier:
He was a tireless worker: It took him two years to learn how to move onstage, and another two, how to laugh.
That got my attention, and I would have laughed aloud, aside from the realization that I may not have worked hard enough as of yet on that particular vocal and facial expression of astonished surprise. Then, this:
On stage and on screen, he could give an impression of openness, brilliance, lightness, and speed. In fact, he was the opposite. His great strength was that of the ox. He always reminded me of a countryman, of a ... peasant taking his time .... Once a conception had taken root in him, no power could change the direction in which the ox would pull the cart.
Impressive. And suggestive. Behind many forms of flashy, flamboyant success, there is a lot of dogged, ox-like, hard work. Two years to learn to move on stage? Two years to learn to laugh? Yes. And as we go out onto our own dramatic stages, at work, or at home, or in the community, we should not allow ourselves to forget the hard work that alone will lift any performance to a distinctive level of power. In an age that celebrates the fruits of work without equally honoring or encouraging the work itself that typically makes those delights possible, we need to remind ourselves that the greatest never get that way without a lot of hard, hard work.
But if you love what you're doing, you can enjoy even the greatest efforts. The hard work itself can be a suitable and satisfying outlet for your energy. And - who knows? You can't really rule out that reality TV show.
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