Should you ask what its nature is? It has one peculiarly its own; but admitting it to consist of fire, or air, it does not affect the present question.
Only observe this, that as you are convinced there is a God, though you are ignorant where he resides, and what shape he is of; in like manner you ought to feel assured that you have a soul, though you cannot satisfy yourself of the place of its residence, nor its form.
In our knowledge of the soul, unless we are grossly ignorant of natural philosophy, we cannot but be satisfied that it has nothing but what is simple, unmixed, uncompounded, and single; and if this is admitted, then it cannot be separated, nor divided, nor dispersed, nor parted, and therefore it cannot perish; for to perish implies a parting-asunder, a division, a disunion, of those parts which, while it subsisted, were held together by some band.
And it was because he was influenced by these and similar reasons that Socrates neither looked out for anybody to plead for him when he was accused, nor begged any favor from his judges, but maintained a manly freedom, which was the effect not of pride, but of the true greatness of his soul; and on the last day of his life he held a long discourse on this subject; and a few days before, when he might have been easily freed from his confinement, he refused to be so; and when he had almost actually hold of that deadly cup, he spoke with the air of a man not forced to die, but ascending into heaven.
—from Cicero, Tusculan Disputations 1.29
For all the speculation about where the soul is located in the body, it can never draw into question the fact that I “have” a soul, since my very inquiry about my awareness is itself an act of that awareness.
For all the confusion about what the soul might be made of, its defining presence is never in doubt, the form of a creature endowed with understanding and choice, through which every other aspect of humanity is measured.
Place it in the head, if you wish, or in the heart, or wherever consciousness seems to be most powerfully experienced, and none of that alters how rationality and freedom are inseparable from being a person.
I must recall that what little I do know is already more than sufficient to explain who I am, even if I am unable to observe the soul under a microscope. I can’t take a photograph of God either, and yet that shouldn’t stop me from acknowledging a Unity of Being, a Perfect Intelligence, that governs every act of motion and change.
Though I might not be fully informed on the mechanics of how the eyes or the ears operate, as I may not have had the benefit of scientifically studying optics or acoustics, it remains absolutely clear to me that I am able to see or to hear.
When it comes to the soul, I am now pushing the limit of what can be accounted for by the examination of matter alone, and so I must be careful not to doubt away what is self-evident in the pursuit of a deeper explanation.
However mysterious the process, I do know that an intellect does not behave in quite the same manner as a body. If an idea is not really divisible into physical parts, and it is more fitting to speak of its existence as simple and pure, I should also not reduce thought to something that can be torn from itself or destroyed. Where a thing is non-composite and indivisible, it will not suffer from a corruption of the flesh.
Classical philosophy always showed a reverence for the profound transcendence of mind, by paying close attention to the unique characteristics of consciousness, and we should not let our great advances in the physical sciences blind us to the reality of what may rightly be called the spiritual. The meaning in the former only becomes apparent through the exercise of the latter.
The abstract reflection is all nice and well, though returning to the example of Socrates can help us to ground the grand theory in the discipline of practice. What do these fine principles have to do with the art of daily living? To know something of the dignity of the soul is further to know something of how to live with character and conviction.
Socrates did not fear death, and he did not need to beg and plead with the Athenian court, because he understood that the goods of the soul were far greater than the goods of the body, and that only a commitment to wisdom and virtue could make anything else in the world worthwhile. It is easier to care less for wealth, fame, or pleasure when one loves truth, goodness, and beauty above all else. Living longer pales in comparison to living better.
As he was in prison awaiting his execution, Socrates did not jump at the chance to escape, because he would rather have allowed himself to be treated unjustly by his fellow citizens than to ever choose to treat them unjustly. What kind of man can do that, to not succumb to fear and to resist the temptation to run away? The kind of man who considers his integrity to be more important than his survival, and who would prefer his body to perish before his soul is tarnished.
On the day he was given the hemlock, his companions were overcome with grief, and yet Socrates comforted them, reminding them that death need not be seen as a curse, but could also be seen as a blessing, a relief from the many burdens of this life. This was possible for him because he was convinced, even to the end, that wisdom and virtue were not subject to any worldly decay.
Socrates was a living proof that philosophy is about backing up the noble thoughts with righteous deeds.
—Reflection written in 4/1996
No comments:
Post a Comment