“The majority of mortals, Paulinus, complain bitterly of the spitefulness of Nature, because we are born for a brief span of life, because even this space that has been granted to us rushes by so speedily and so swiftly that all save a very few find life at an end just when they are getting ready to live. Nor is it merely the common herd and the unthinking crowd that bemoan what is, as men deem it, a universal ill; the same feeling has called forth complaint also from men who were famous. It was this that made the greatest of physicians exclaim that “life is short, art is long;” it was this that led Aristotle, while expostulating with Nature, to enter an indictment most unbecoming to a wise man—that, in point of age, she has shown such favour to animals that they drag out five or ten lifetimes, but that a much shorter limit is fixed for man, though he is born for so many and such great achievements. It is not that we have a short space of time, but that we waste much of it. Life is long enough, and it has been given in sufficiently generous measure to allow the accomplishment of the very greatest things if the whole of it is well invested. But when it is squandered in luxury and carelessness, when it is devoted to no good end, forced at last by the ultimate necessity we perceive that it has passed away before we were aware that it was passing.
So it is — the life we receive is not short, but we make it so, nor do we have any lack of it, but are wasteful of it. Just as great and princely wealth is scattered in a moment when it comes into the hands of a bad owner, while wealth however limited, if it is entrusted to a good guardian, increases by use.
So our life is amply long for him who orders it properly.”
– Seneca, On the Shortness of Life.
Living a good life does not inherently require the study of philosophy. My conviction on this matter crystallized when I witnessed an elderly gentleman pose a profound question to the cashier at a local store: “Are you good or happy?” It became evident to me that just as some simple people possess the ability to reason effectively without formal training in logic, they can also lead fulfilling lives without studying moral philosophy. However, philosophy holds significance for those who find themselves in dire need of it. Specifically, individuals who grapple with existential misery are more likely to benefit from engaging with philosophical concepts. The fact remains that the darkness of Sisyphus’s existence may not be illuminated by Promethean flame unless it is intended.
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Prometheus by Heinrich Fueger 1817
The essence of “the love of wisdom” does not lie in delivering a definitive, satisfying answer. Instead, it emerges from a process of questioning that arises from a rupture with our natural inclination towards spontaneity and habit. Philosophy involves subjecting our beliefs and assumptions to scrutiny, seeking to reclaim them through justification. The inquiry into what constitutes a good life is not solely a theoretical conundrum; it also manifests itself in our practical encounters and lived experiences. This intersection of theory and practice is precisely where ethics finds its footing, not in dictating “what is,” but in guiding us towards “what should be.”
- The Eudaimonian Turn:
Upon revisiting the Greek texts, we encounter the two most significant practical disciplines: morality, focusing on the individual, and politics, focusing on the collective. Despite their distinct scopes, we find these fields to be sharing a common objective: the attainment of eudaimonia. Although loosely translated as happiness, eudaimonia more precisely encompasses human flourishing and overall well-being, evidenced by a life of fulfillment rather than fleeting moments. It represents the ultimate good and serves as the final aim of human existence.
Eudaimonia, however, is not a one-size-fits-all formula. Instead, it encompasses multiple directions. One path links it to a philosophical virtue established through reason, where reason signifies a withdrawal from the partial and contingent aspects and an integration into the universal human good. This virtue recognizes the individual’s right to employ his highest faculty—his mind—to exercise judgment and critique societal customs and traditions without succumbing to them through force. Life’s complexities and interconnectedness are so vast that a mere list of commands and prohibitions cannot navigate them. True discernment between good and evil requires insight into both the cause and effect of virtue, where the ability to discern true goodness is itself a moral act. Now, if virtue is conditional on the use of reason to govern passions, it implies that desires must exist for them to be controlled. The very etymology of “mind” in Arabic (“al-ʿaql”) hints at this – it stems from the verb “ʿaqala,” to restrain livestock with a lasso (“ʿiqāl”) to curb its movement. Thus, any ascetic moral paradigm that seeks to eradicate emotions fails to grasp that the highest doesn’t negate the lower; it encompasses and elevates it.
The other ethical path is a relative one, as it is based on a partial perspective and places its objective outside of it. This path splits into two branches: The first, contemporary branch, defines good as what benefits the public, ultimately aiming for the happiness of the most significant number of people. The second, hedonism, defines good as whatever brings the most pleasure to the individual. However, a challenge arises when individual pleasures come at the expense of the pleasure of others. This creates a situation where something can be simultaneously good and evil, thereby eroding the objective distinction between the two. The hedonistic paradox further complicates this, highlighting that the constant pursuit of pleasure, especially when it becomes a conscious obsession, often fails to deliver true happiness in the long run, or even the short run, when the conscious pursuit of pleasure clashes with the actual experience itself.
- The good life is not conceptually limited:
Upon examining the concept, we discover that “good” is an expression of approval. It is often said that life is good when one is prosperous and well-off, and “life” typically refers to the span between birth and death. Our self-awareness in the continuous flow of life leads us to intuit that it is characterized by a state of constant change, with successive waves and divergent directions. To rigidly define such a vast concept is to fossilize its essence, rendering it static and lifeless. The true “good life,” then, is a dance with dynamism. It reflects the fluidity of life, embracing the ever-changing nature of our being. From birth’s first breath to death’s final exhale, we are in constant flux, evolving through a process of becoming. Hence, we arrive at the understanding that a good life encompasses a preparation for death that culminates in it. From the moment of birth, a person embarks on the journey of being alive, gradually approaching the threshold of death. Yet, our final hour is not an ending, but a culmination, a graduation from the womb of life. It is in this transition, as the soul sheds its earthly vessel and reaches for its ultimate essence, that we truly emerge into the fullness of being.
Confronting the reality of death brings forth a profound appreciation for life, igniting within a person a strong desire to infuse more vitality and meaning into their existence. Disregarding thoughts of death, solely for the sake of preserving emotional well-being, can be seen as a betrayal of oneself. Forgetting about death entirely may ultimately lead to neglecting the true essence of life itself.
- The good life is not a destination:
The root cause of the predicament often stems from a sense of dissatisfaction arising from the desire to attain a certain level of stability. Yet, the “good life” is no mere destination to be conquered, but an ever-expanding horizon, forever teasing with new possibilities. Herein lies the paradox: Adulthood may imply a sense of arrival, but arriving at a fixed point implies a closed, static state that halts progress and stifles the eternal nature of life. The pursuit of the good life remains elusive, as individuals continue to chase it throughout their lives, perpetually suspended in a polar field that exists between reality and aspiration, between the present and the horizon, between potential and action, between the temporal and the eternal.
Isn’t man that incomplete and perpetually dissatisfied being, forever yearning for what lies beyond his grasp? He intertwines reality with value, venturing into metaphysical dimensions that are rich in meaning and significance. Man lives for what is yet to exist, and the allure of the future exerts a magnetic pull upon him, radiating a captivating aura of possibility, mystery, and poeticism. However, once he attains possession, the allure fades, and he begins the cycle anew. This struggle, though, is no mere accident; it’s the very pulse of his being. Man exists for the purpose of liberation, yet pure freedom remains elusive. His freedom is not absolute arbitrariness, where he can do whatever he wants without constraints or circumstances. Instead, it is the freedom to take a stance in relation to these constraints. He only truly awakens to himself when he recognizes that he is captive to various systems that limit him—biological, social, historical. This awakening is a valuable acquisition, not a single event. It is but a continuous existential drama, a dance with anxiety, a formative process forged in the fires of time. As awareness deepens, the authentic self emerges, its individuality a defiant spark against the tides of collective opinion, opinions that diminish individual consciousness, and lead the self into dissolution in the collective group mentality.
- The good life is an activity of resistance:
One of the aims of a good life, then, is to cultivate a sense of bold and spontaneous individual authenticity. This is achieved through conscious effort, where the individual refines and utilizes their rational faculties, abilities, and talents. This life thrives on friendships fueled by shared passions, where compassion flows first inwards, nurturing the self before it spills out to others. Through dedicated cultivation, this individual may become a beacon, an example that ignites inspiration in others. Yet, one cannot impose his personal notion of “good” onto others. Each entity naturally defends itself and only accepts change to the extent that it aligns with its own existence. This “good life” is a paradox, a waltz between contentment and ambition. Contentment represents a sense of satisfaction, while ambition’s relentless pursuit of lofty ideals, forever out of reach. Yet, this very yearning, this hunger for self-transcendence, is vital. If one feels an inner force compelling them towards progress, it indicates a sense of lacking or deficiency, a recognition one is not fulfilling his true potential. This deficiency gives rise to a fertile contradiction within the self, a tension between what is and what should be. The distinct characteristic of human existence lies in its inherent self-transcendence. Rather than merely seeking self-realization, human beings engage in a continual process of transcending the self. Transcendence occurs within the inner spaces of the self, where dynamic dimensions intersect, as well as in the external and internal realms where interactions take place with elements such as God, the world, others, the tide of events, and so much more.
Man’s outer, horizontal dimension is woven from interactions with others. It’s in these encounters that his identity crystallizes, sharpened by the friction of confrontation. The “I” and the “You” become intertwined on the loom of language, a common thread both mediating and obstructing expression. Without language, which is fundamentally a social phenomenon, life would remain isolated and devoid of narrative characteristics. Yet, man yearns to go beyond mere words, to bend the world to his will through action. His deeds, art, and creations are flung outwards, reflections of the inner self-cast on the world’s canvas. Work becomes a bridge that the self traverses, adapting to the material at hand and overcoming resistance and obstacles in order to extend itself into the external. In that echo, in the way others see him reflected, he finds confirmation of his own freedom and responsibility. But man is not confined to this horizontal plane. He possesses a vertical dimension, a capacity to transcend immediate reality. As a witness, he steps back from the play, questioning his life and its contents. In laughter and spontaneity, he breaks free from the shackles of purpose.
The inner dimension of human existence involves turning inward, returning to one’s center, and is closely intertwined with the experience of pain. Emotions ebb and flow, pulsing between expansion and contraction. Joy, a sunburst spilling outwards, makes us forget the self and reach for others. But sorrow, a tightening coil, draws us inward, seeking refuge in the core of our being. Pain, in this context, transcends mere existential awareness. It is not simply a “wound that has no pain in a dead person,” but a potent crucible that both severs and connects: it separates us from others, making us feel isolated and limited, yet it also deepens our connection with them when assimilated and processed. Through this assimilation and digestion, even if it is difficult, pain purifies the self, rendering it more compassionate and unveiling deeper layers of authenticity. This is the inherent destiny of human beings simply because they are alive. This is the bittersweet fate of our existence, for to live is to be promised both the scorching fire and the purifying grace of suffering. To avoid being consumed by the depths of despair, man strives to find meaning in suffering, seeking to be deserving of it. He suffers proudly and rises above his suffering, begging for the strength of his will. The question of suffering’s finality, however, remains an enigma, its answer lying beyond the grasp of the finite.
Perhaps this is where the true strength of the spirit shines: standing tall under the weight of existence, shoulders squared against the void. Physical standing is not just a physical act but also signifies a metaphysical stance, working “in spite of death.” Here, courage – the affirmation of self – transcends mere action and becomes an ontological force, embracing existential anxiety as the shadow twin of awareness of nothingness; to find meaning in the face of absurdity. Courage, both as a behavior and as a moral value, has two aspects: static and moving. There’s the static courage of belonging, the comfort of societal armor. In a static and stable society, traditional morals and customs often have a dogmatic element that automatically subjugates the individual. We grow up imbibing these norms, internalizing them as the “right” way to be. They become the bedrock of the ordinary citizen’s virtue, a foundation so deeply ingrained that deviating feels like a betrayal of conscience. However, over time, a counterbalancing threat emerges in human evolution. The rigidity and weight of customs become a threat to the fundamental freedom that allows an authentic human being to transcend themselves. This transcendence requires a prolonged period of freedom and commitment to a coherent moral structure until one’s consciousness matures and realizes that true freedom lies not in abandoning external laws but in exerting control over them. Consequently, the courage to exist as a separate self arises, where one makes decisions for oneself and follows an unpaved path. This path is unpaved, fraught with uncertainty, with no stable shores to cling to. It’s an arduous solo trek, a continuous ascent fueled by freedom and fueled by a commitment to crafting a coherent moral compass within. This conflict between the two needs – belonging and growth – persists as long as the self is in a state of becoming. Fear here reflects the immense weight of freedom, the dizzying precipice of individual responsibility, yet the paradox lies in the absence of absolute security in life. Adventure is inherently dangerous because one may experience loss. However, it is precisely in the refusal to take risks that one may lose what is irreplaceable: his own authenticity.
The distinction between the static and moving aspects of courage lies in their nature rather than their degree. The moving aspect is not a sequential progression from the static aspect; instead, it entails traversing existential anxiety and necessitates a spiritual revolution that enables one to emerge beyond homogeneous and predictable experiences. This “believing self” transcends the fabricated confines of the “contrived self” by seeking an emotional intuition, a deeper resonance that soars above the perceived contradictions between the absolute and the relative. By doing so, it surpasses the narrow confines of societal obligations and enters a stage where it turns to the profound subjective truth that cannot be justified by human laws alone. It sheds the constricting cloak of mere social duty, venturing into the vast realm of personal, unquantifiable truth – a truth that finds no validation in human laws. This is the stage where one is drawn to the boundless expanse of values like faith, courage, and love – values that touch the very fabric of existence itself.
The love discussed here is both an ontological concept and a transcendental understanding. “I love you, therefore we both exist, and life is worth living.” The serendipitous encounter, where the beloved emerges, serves as a spiritual milestone that rouses the lover from a subjective slumber. It enables them to acknowledge the beloved as a cherished treasure and discover within a mediator who intensifies their sense of being. Love’s greatest worth lies in its power to yank us from metaphysical isolation. It is a constant opening, a spilling out of oneself, a sacrifice of the small for the vastness of another. Love is destitute, and this destitution lies at its very core. It doesn’t hoard, it yearns; it’s not a passive feeling, but an active deed, a giving that overflows and drenches the beloved with the vibrant essence of being. Yet, the cost of love is its inherent association with pain. Those content with their own existence do not love; they remain in slumber. As the poet Abu Firas Al-Hamdani wisely puts it:
In the silent night, as the world finds rest,
Your heart’s beloved, in slumber, is blessed.
Yet you, consumed by thoughts that never cease,
With sleepless eyes, in solitude, find peace.
Faith, that wellspring of existential courage, isn’t a singular event or a simple matter of fact. It is an ongoing process propelled by one’s will. Man, a composite of the finite and the infinite, discovers his truth by maintaining a delicate equilibrium between these two poles. The yearning of man for a living connection with the Absolute, the Unseen, never truly fades. Conversely, when the infinite is lost, even if unconsciously, it leads to despair—a spiritual emasculation of the self. By relying solely on the finite, an individual becomes a mere numerical entity, devoid of a soul. It’s the believing self, through its journey of becoming, that grasps the ultimate truth: to simply be in the presence of the Divine.
As twilight descended, the owl of Minerva took flight, its haunting cry echoes through the horizon, declaring that philosophizing is but a thread, woven into the tapestry of a life ever-flowing, infinitely varied, and endlessly intricate. It harkens back to its ancient designation as “the love of wisdom,” encompassing the pursuit of truth, the quest for goodness, the revelation of beauty, and the reverence for the enigmatic aspects of existence.
To conclude, dear reader:
May you dwell forever in life’s utmost bliss,
Each day, may abundance be yours to never miss.
- Baha’a Al-Din Zuhayr
The power to determine your own abundance lies within your hands.
T1662
