Cicero, Tusculan Disputations 3.31

M. Here some people talk of moderate grief; but if such be natural, what occasion is there for consolation? For nature herself will determine, the measure of it: but if it depends on and is caused by opinion, the whole opinion should be destroyed. 
 
I think that it has been sufficiently said, that grief arises from an opinion of some present evil, which includes this belief, that it is incumbent on us to grieve. 
 
To this definition Zeno has added, very justly, that the opinion of this present evil should be recent. Now this word recent they explain thus: those are not the only recent things which happened a little while ago; but as long as there shall be any force, or vigor, or freshness in that imagined evil, so long it is entitled to the name of recent. 
 
Take the case of Artemisia, the wife of Mausolus, King of Caria, who made that noble sepulcher at Halicarnassus; while she lived, she lived in grief, and died of it, being worn out by it, for that opinion was always recent with her: but you cannot call that recent which has already begun to decay through time. 
 
Now the duty of a comforter is to remove grief entirely, to quiet it, or draw it off as much as you can, or else to keep it under, and prevent its spreading any further, and to divert one’s attention to other matters. 
 
There are some who think, with Cleanthes, that the only duty of a comforter is to prove that what one is lamenting is by no means an evil. 
 
Others, as the Peripatetics, prefer urging that the evil is not great. 
 
Others, with Epicurus, seek to divert your attention from the evil to good. 
 
Some think it sufficient to show that nothing has happened but what you had reason to expect; and this is the practice of the Cyrenaics. 
 
But Chrysippus thinks that the main thing in comforting is, to remove the opinion from the person who is grieving, that to grieve is his bounden duty. 
 
There are others who bring together all these various kinds of consolations, for people are differently affected; as I have done myself in my book On Consolation; for as my own mind was much disordered, I have attempted in that book to discover every method of cure. 
 
But the proper season is as much to be attended to in the cure of the mind as of the body; as Prometheus in Aeschylus, on its being said to him, 
 
“I think, Prometheus, you this tenet hold,
That all men’s reason should their rage control?”
 
answers,
 
“Yes, when one reason properly applies; 
Ill-timed advice will make the storm but rise." 

—from Cicero, Tusculan Disputations 3.31 

 
I notice how many people will assume that grief must inevitably be present, and they are willing to settle for a certain portion of sorrow that feels at least bearable. Yet if we grant that Nature has determined it to be so, what amount of our efforts could possibly minimize it? And if it is indeed within our power to restrict the very source of despair, why not choose to remove it entirely? 
 
I have grown so accustomed to some degree of suffering that I can barely imagine a life without it, but is it possible I am selling myself short? Why tolerate living in a house where only one part is still falling down, when I have the tools at hand to repair it completely? In accepting why pain in life is certain, I need not go so far as to permit suffering to cripple me. The first will surely come, while the second is formed more by my judgments. 
 
The amount of time that has passed since a loss matters less than the amount of worry I heap upon it, such that an experience from years ago can seem just as recent as one from yesterday. The disturbance is as close as the concern; once the opinion is modified, the anxiety diminishes. 
 
I can read about Artemisia, how she built a massive tomb to mourn her departed husband, and how she was said to have mixed a bit of his ashes into her water every day, or I can also look among my friends and neighbors to see how mightily they struggle with bereavement. This calls for helping them to help themselves, instead of scolding them. 
 
Even as the root cause of grief is in the estimation, the prudent man recognizes many different ways to soften the blow. Yes, while the Stoics were right to appeal to a deeper understanding of why the perceived evil is not really an evil at all, the proverbial toolbox should be stocked with a wide range of implements, each suited for a specific occasion. 
 
With the Peripatetics, we can, at the very least, remind the sufferer why the hardship is not as overwhelming as it may seem. In the heat of the moment, few people will wish to hear how their entire worldview requires a complete overhaul, and that their accustomed measures of good and evil are inherently mistaken. One step at a time. 
 
With the Epicureans, we can also diminish the pain of one emotion by contrasting it with the pleasure of another emotion, and though Cicero, along with Stoics, did not see this as a total cure, it can surely serve as a partial relief. What cannot be removed may still be made endurable. 
 
With the Cyrenaics, we can increase an inner resolve by preparing ourselves for whatever may come, for a great part of distress comes from the shock of the unexpected. There is a good reason why soldiers are rigorously trained to always be at the ready Always keep one eye open. 
 
Medicine for the body must be applied at the right time, in the right way, and in the right dosage—medicine for the soul is no different. The good doctor, or philosopher, is a master of employing several methods in diverse circumstances. 

—Reflection written in 12/1998 

IMAGE: Francesco Furini, Artemisia Prepares to Drink the Ashes of Her Husband, Mausolus (c. 1630)