HEAD(hed), (n.) 1. the top part of the human body or the front part of an animal where the eyes, nose, east and mouth are. "Your brain is in your head." DIBS(dibz), (n.) 2. a thick, sweet syrup made in countries of the East, especially the Middle East, from grape juice or dates. [Arabic "debs"]--World Book Dictionary, 1976.
Starting chapter 10 exhausted. Need to take a break. The closer to the end I get, the steeper the climb, as it were. Just gets harder near the end. I’m having eye surgery consultation later this week. I’m thinking the eye strain is too much for this little pea brain. Everything jumbles together. But so excited this is happening!
"Hecato says : 'I can show you a philtre [potion], compounded without drugs, herbs, or any witch's incantation: 'If you be loved, love.' " And what is love? Later in this letter, Seneca defines love as "friendship run mad."
He goes on:
"Now there is great pleasure, not only in maintaining old and established friendships, but also in beginning and acquiring new ones. There is the same difference between winning a new friend and having already won him, as there is between the farmer who sows and the farmer who reaps. The philosopher Attalus used to say: 'It is more pleasant to make than to keep a friend, as it is more pleasant to the artist to paint than to have finished painting.'"
What is the purpose of friendship? Is it to collect people for the purpose of support or help? Seneca suggests the purpose of friendship is to nurture virtue. How does one do that? By gathering people in order to provide comfort to one who is sick, to share what you have with someone who is need.
There is a difference between mere existence and a happy existence. Mere existence is self-serving and uses people that could be friends. A happy existence does not seek it's own fortune but serves others; that is, it is an existence that relates to, contributes to, invests in others and is able to call them "friends." And one can still say he or she is self-sufficient.
But there is another factor to consider:
Should a man lose his property, his family, his friends--has he lost everything? No!
He had property and now it is gone.
He had family and they are gone.
He had friends and they are gone.
Has one lost or merely "returned" what was given for a little while? The people and property one has is for a time (the Stoics said that nothing that can be taken is "good"), but he is happiest when able to nurture virtue with others. So one needs relationships, friends, in order for this to happen.
But when friends, family, property are gone, he "can retire into himself and give himself over to his own thoughts."
One probably wonders what I’m working on. As an Independent Scholar, as I am not attached to a University, I am writing a commentary on the first book of a personal journal written by a 2nd Century Roman Emperor. In that book he lists 16 names and describes what each person contributed to his life. That’s the short version. I’ve covered the first 8 so far and hit a wall. Now I’ve gone back and am editing Chapters 1-3 to keep my mojo going. Not sure when I’ll be done but hopefully by years’ end. I already have another project lined up.
I'm nearly finished reading Joan Didion's collection of essays, Slouching Towards Bethlehem. The book was discovered through another book I was reading, Jon Krakauer's Eiger Dreams . If Jon felt this book was good enough to pack along on a mountain climbing expedition, then I'm interested. Took me three tries, but I finally found my copy on Amazon. One of the best book buys I've made. Joan selected the title of this book from William Butler Yeats' classic poem, Second Coming . The book title is shared with one of her larger essays, a record of encounters with people in the 1960's drug culture. Didion's book is divided into three distinct parts: "Life Styles In The Golden Land," a collection of articles capturing the California experience of the 1960's; "Personals," a few of essays of the first-hand nature; and "Seven Places Of The Mind", some thoughts about those parts of California that are now long gone. One essay...
