As I was growing up as a child, one of the great secrets of being a good thinker was bequeathed to me by my good mentors: Do not try to keep busy all the time. Busy-busy is not a virtue, but the undoing of a good thinker. Treasure every minute of your leisure, and always make time for it. Leisure is the time for reflection. Learning without reflection is like eating without digestion, a waste, and even a health hazard, leading to what Dr. J.T. Kent called “broken-down economy.”
Needless to say, learning is not a temporary period in life, like K-to-12, or even K-to-PhD. Learning lasts throughout the authentic person’s whole life, “ancora imparo,” as Michelangelo puts it.
That important lesson was later admirably summarized in my subsequent reading of the Hobbesian dictum that “leisure is the mother of philosophy.” Not that I needed any elucidation for my own understanding of leisure, but it was nice to hear a resonating string in the wisdom of the ages.
There are many such resonating strings in the harp of my head, and ever so often, even most unexpectedly and from some very unusual places, I suddenly feel a strange connection and hear the harmonious sounds, emanating from my mental harp, in response.
This is exactly what happened in the process of my minor reading of the Introduction to Marcus Aurelius’ Thoughts, by the English classical scholar George Long (1800-1879), who also made that 1862 translation of Marcus Aurelius. As a result of this connection, I became rather fond of George Long, and I even wrote a few comments on his comments, all scattered in several places in my book, which is something I might not have done under a different set of circumstances.
Long’s passage below, in tandem with Hobbes, and with my own conception of leisure, as a philosophical necessity, puts in sharp focus the distinction between a life of leisure, and leisure as a temporary respite, taking time for reflection amid the turbulences of life.
George Long: A man who leads a life of tranquility and reflection, who is not disturbed at home, and meddles not in the affairs of the world, may keep his mind at ease and his thought in one even course.
My Comment: If you ask me, here is a man at leisure, and, to repeat Hobbes' admirable wisdom, “leisure is the mother of philosophy.” So, how come that the next line, starting with “But…,” portrays leisure as inimical to philosophy, what is wrong here? I say, let us reexamine leisure, until we can harmonize the two statements, both of which make good sense. Perhaps, true leisure is not some philistine paradise, but a temporary quiet harbor in the middle of a stormy sea. Perhaps, philosophically speaking, Philosopher’s “leisure” is the eye of the storm?!
George Long: But such a man has not been tried.
My Comment: Perhaps, should the man possess leisure as his permanent state of mind, it is quite the opposite, that such a man has been tried, and failed? In other words, leisure is a respite from the conflicts of the turbulent world, and not a permanent condition of tranquility and reflection? This puts me in sharp conflict with the stoics and with all stoic philosophy… well, so be it! Perhaps, stoicism is not even a philosophy, but a psychology of positive thinking, which may be selfishly gratifying, but loses any moral value it might have had, as soon as it makes the logical next step, turning into indifference toward the sufferings of our fellow human beings?
George Long: All his ethical philosophy and passive virtue might turn out to be idle words, if he were once exposed to the rude reality of human existence.
My Comment: Not to be exposed in this manner, suggests some hopeless case of terminal mental blindness, rather than being sheltered by others from the rude reality of existence, which even in the tightest case of sheltering, has to be a cooperative effort on both sides. At any rate, blind men cannot be expected to paint a vivid picture of a colorful landscape. By the same token, a blind mind is supremely incapable of making any kind of philosophical representation of the reality.
George Long: Fine thoughts and moral dissertations from men, who have not worked and suffered, may be read, but they will be forgotten. No religion, no ethical philosophy is worth anything, if the teacher has not lived the life of an apostle, and has not been ready to die the death of a martyr.
My Comment: The concluding lines of the Long quotation dispense with the vices of “a life of tranquility and reflection,” and now portray our great philosopher as a willing martyr, which, of course, represents the opposite extreme. But, once again, most extremes are only matters of biased opinions and of inaccurate definitions, and should we, for once, look at them properly, the differences between many of them may be found non-existent.
Needless to say, learning is not a temporary period in life, like K-to-12, or even K-to-PhD. Learning lasts throughout the authentic person’s whole life, “ancora imparo,” as Michelangelo puts it.
That important lesson was later admirably summarized in my subsequent reading of the Hobbesian dictum that “leisure is the mother of philosophy.” Not that I needed any elucidation for my own understanding of leisure, but it was nice to hear a resonating string in the wisdom of the ages.
There are many such resonating strings in the harp of my head, and ever so often, even most unexpectedly and from some very unusual places, I suddenly feel a strange connection and hear the harmonious sounds, emanating from my mental harp, in response.
This is exactly what happened in the process of my minor reading of the Introduction to Marcus Aurelius’ Thoughts, by the English classical scholar George Long (1800-1879), who also made that 1862 translation of Marcus Aurelius. As a result of this connection, I became rather fond of George Long, and I even wrote a few comments on his comments, all scattered in several places in my book, which is something I might not have done under a different set of circumstances.
Long’s passage below, in tandem with Hobbes, and with my own conception of leisure, as a philosophical necessity, puts in sharp focus the distinction between a life of leisure, and leisure as a temporary respite, taking time for reflection amid the turbulences of life.
George Long: A man who leads a life of tranquility and reflection, who is not disturbed at home, and meddles not in the affairs of the world, may keep his mind at ease and his thought in one even course.
My Comment: If you ask me, here is a man at leisure, and, to repeat Hobbes' admirable wisdom, “leisure is the mother of philosophy.” So, how come that the next line, starting with “But…,” portrays leisure as inimical to philosophy, what is wrong here? I say, let us reexamine leisure, until we can harmonize the two statements, both of which make good sense. Perhaps, true leisure is not some philistine paradise, but a temporary quiet harbor in the middle of a stormy sea. Perhaps, philosophically speaking, Philosopher’s “leisure” is the eye of the storm?!
George Long: But such a man has not been tried.
My Comment: Perhaps, should the man possess leisure as his permanent state of mind, it is quite the opposite, that such a man has been tried, and failed? In other words, leisure is a respite from the conflicts of the turbulent world, and not a permanent condition of tranquility and reflection? This puts me in sharp conflict with the stoics and with all stoic philosophy… well, so be it! Perhaps, stoicism is not even a philosophy, but a psychology of positive thinking, which may be selfishly gratifying, but loses any moral value it might have had, as soon as it makes the logical next step, turning into indifference toward the sufferings of our fellow human beings?
George Long: All his ethical philosophy and passive virtue might turn out to be idle words, if he were once exposed to the rude reality of human existence.
My Comment: Not to be exposed in this manner, suggests some hopeless case of terminal mental blindness, rather than being sheltered by others from the rude reality of existence, which even in the tightest case of sheltering, has to be a cooperative effort on both sides. At any rate, blind men cannot be expected to paint a vivid picture of a colorful landscape. By the same token, a blind mind is supremely incapable of making any kind of philosophical representation of the reality.
George Long: Fine thoughts and moral dissertations from men, who have not worked and suffered, may be read, but they will be forgotten. No religion, no ethical philosophy is worth anything, if the teacher has not lived the life of an apostle, and has not been ready to die the death of a martyr.
My Comment: The concluding lines of the Long quotation dispense with the vices of “a life of tranquility and reflection,” and now portray our great philosopher as a willing martyr, which, of course, represents the opposite extreme. But, once again, most extremes are only matters of biased opinions and of inaccurate definitions, and should we, for once, look at them properly, the differences between many of them may be found non-existent.
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