Seneca, On the Happy Life 1: Where to Go, and How to Get There?

All men, brother Gallio, wish to live happily, but are dull at perceiving exactly what it is that makes life happy: and so far is it from being easy to attain the happiness that the more eagerly a man struggles to reach it the further he departs from it, if he takes the wrong road; for, since this leads in the opposite direction, his very swiftness carries him all the further away.

We must therefore first define clearly what it is at which we aim: next we must consider by what path we may most speedily reach it, for on our journey itself, provided it be made in the right direction, we shall learn how much progress we have made each day, and how much nearer we are to the goal towards which our natural desires urge us.

But as long as we wander at random, not following any guide except the shouts and discordant clamors of those who invite us to proceed in different directions, our short life will be wasted in useless roamings, even if we labor both day and night to get a good understanding. . . .

—Seneca, On the happy life, Chapter 1 (tr Stewart)

Nothing could be more important, yet nothing can seem so confusing. Everything depends upon it, so we will try anything to achieve it. It is so clear that I desire it above all else, and sometimes so obscure as to what it might be. I need to know where I wish to go, and how I should get there, and this reveals why philosophy is hardly just a luxury, but an absolute necessity.

We all know that happiness is the highest good we aim for, even as we might offer radically different accounts of its nature. I have found that we are often tempted to only provide what we think are a list of synonyms, each just another label that does not truly define what it means to be happy. Joy, contentment, peace of mind, well-being, bliss, success, security, being fulfilled, pleasure, enlightenment, purpose, meaning, ecstasy, salvation.

 Note, however, that each of these terms can have a different association, and can lead us down very different paths. If, for example, I consider happiness a function of pleasure, or if I consider happiness to be a function of wisdom, these will lead to quite distinct ways of living.

In a time when various forms of skepticism, subjectivism, and relativism are the fashion of the moment, when we insist that we can really never know anything for certain, that truth depends on my own beliefs, and that nothing is therefore really true or false in itself, it is tempting to give the answer that happiness is just different for everyone.

This sounds terribly deep, but is actually a desperate cop-out. It is telling me that something is defined by being nothing at all, and instead of isolating what is common to all instances of something, it separates all the ways the instances are dissimilar. We may well have many different definitions of happiness, but this does not tell me which of them is true. We may all experience happiness in ways particular to our own personality and circumstances, but this does not tell me what is universally shared by all these experiences.

I don’t, however, usually see people grappling with the different senses of what happiness could be at all, and instead I suggest that so many of us just ignore the question altogether. We know we want this most wonderful of things, but we are simply uncertain how to proceed in figuring out what it is, or how to pursue it. Perhaps we sometimes do this out of dismissive arrogance, but I think we do it just as often out of fear. I have often found myself not only afraid of an effort, but also terrified of what I may learn about myself if I were to follow through with that effort.

As soon as I perceive that some things seem to make me happy, I am also admitting that there are opposite things that will make me miserable. If I am wandering around blindly and without direction, with no sense of what I am doing or why I am doing it, all my choices and actions are in vain. Without a measure of meaning and a sense of purpose, my life will quite literally be directionless.

I have been lost in the woods, and I have been lost in the big city. I have even been lost in a single building. It took me a whole year to figure out how to navigate the rabbit warren of my high school. I have even felt lost in time looking at a schedule, where the question wasn’t just where I should be, but when I should be there. In each case, it was only finding a way to position myself that got me out the mess. Where was I now, where did I need to be going, and what was the best route to get there?

It will hardly make any difference if I just tell myself I need to try harder, if I don’t even know the right way to do something. Exerting more effort going in the wrong direction will only get me further from where I need to be than if I stood around feeling confused.

I have sometimes gotten out of being lost with my own wits, by using a compass, or looking at the sun, or making a mental image of my steps, or just finding a map with that comforting “you are here” dot. At other times I have swallowed my pride and asked for help. This isn’t as simple as it sounds, because ten different people may give me ten different answers. Which answer is the best one? Do I listen to the majority opinion, or do I consider which source seems to be the best informed? How can I tell?

I learned fairly quickly, not through the theory of the classroom, but through the obstacles of daily life, that I would need to find that essential but elusive purpose, and discover a way to point me in the right direction. 

Written in 12/1997

Image: M.C. Escher, Relativity (1953)