I have often before explained the difference between the diseases of the mind and its passions. And I shall remind you once more: the diseases are hardened and chronic vices, such as greed and ambition; they have enfolded the mind in too close a grip, and have begun to be permanent evils thereof.
To give a brief definition: by “disease” we mean a persistent perversion of the judgment, so that things which are mildly desirable are thought to be highly desirable.
Or, if you prefer, we may define it thus: to be too zealous in striving for things which are only mildly desirable or not desirable at all, or to value highly things which ought to be valued but slightly or valued not at all.
“Passions” are objectionable impulses of the spirit, sudden and vehement; they have come so often, and so little attention has been paid to them, that they have caused a state of disease; just as a catarrh, when there has been but a single attack and the catarrh has not yet become habitual, produces a cough, but causes consumption when it has become regular and chronic.
Therefore, we may say that those who have made most progress are beyond the reach of the “diseases”; but they still feel the “passions” even when very near perfection.
To give a brief definition: by “disease” we mean a persistent perversion of the judgment, so that things which are mildly desirable are thought to be highly desirable.
Or, if you prefer, we may define it thus: to be too zealous in striving for things which are only mildly desirable or not desirable at all, or to value highly things which ought to be valued but slightly or valued not at all.
“Passions” are objectionable impulses of the spirit, sudden and vehement; they have come so often, and so little attention has been paid to them, that they have caused a state of disease; just as a catarrh, when there has been but a single attack and the catarrh has not yet become habitual, produces a cough, but causes consumption when it has become regular and chronic.
Therefore, we may say that those who have made most progress are beyond the reach of the “diseases”; but they still feel the “passions” even when very near perfection.
—from Seneca, Moral Letters 75
The Stoics stressed the unity of all being, and thus it is no surprise that they also stressed the unity within each person. While other schools of philosophy speak of separate parts of the soul, or even as if there are many souls together in one body, Stoicism seeks to join our various actions under a single governing principle, the power of judgement.
Thinking and feeling, for example, are not isolated events, or somehow inherently opposed to one another, but my mood is ultimately measured by my understanding, such that the impressions of benefit and harm reflect my values. Whenever a dissonance between them seems to remain, I have the freedom to examine what the emotions are truly telling me about myself, and to adjust the habits of my convictions.
I appreciate how Seneca describes the way a conscience can charge ahead, while the passions can drag behind. Strictly speaking, whenever the Stoics discussed the passions (apatheia), they meant unhealthy feelings, out of harmony with reason, as distinct from healthy feelings (eupatheia), in harmony with reason; in my own head, I call such emotions disordered or ordered, just so I won’t falsely assume that any powerful desire or aversion is a bad thing.
I am all too familiar with the struggle of coming to terms with old urges, which will often outstay their welcome, long after the liberation of a new insight. I choose to be patient with them, knowing why they have their own momentum, and how I retain the power to make of them what I will: a hurt, or a fear, or a lust can always be transformed.
My mind might be on the way to healing, though my feelings might still be ailing. Give it care. Give it attention. Give it time. Be responsible for yourself. The source of the disease is in the estimation, and the symptoms of the disease are in the temperament. Permit the effects to catch up with the cause.
I am regularly told I read far too many ancient myths, when I should really be concerned with the here and now. Yet I take those very tales from the distant past as guides for the immediate present, since all truth is timeless. Lately, I think of Ixion, who first succumbed to rage, and then was seduced by lust, and then was tortured on a wheel for all of eternity. Here was a fellow who was enslaved by his passions, instead of occupied with mastering them.
Sick in the head, and so sick in the heart. Progress is from the top to the bottom.
The Stoics stressed the unity of all being, and thus it is no surprise that they also stressed the unity within each person. While other schools of philosophy speak of separate parts of the soul, or even as if there are many souls together in one body, Stoicism seeks to join our various actions under a single governing principle, the power of judgement.
Thinking and feeling, for example, are not isolated events, or somehow inherently opposed to one another, but my mood is ultimately measured by my understanding, such that the impressions of benefit and harm reflect my values. Whenever a dissonance between them seems to remain, I have the freedom to examine what the emotions are truly telling me about myself, and to adjust the habits of my convictions.
I appreciate how Seneca describes the way a conscience can charge ahead, while the passions can drag behind. Strictly speaking, whenever the Stoics discussed the passions (apatheia), they meant unhealthy feelings, out of harmony with reason, as distinct from healthy feelings (eupatheia), in harmony with reason; in my own head, I call such emotions disordered or ordered, just so I won’t falsely assume that any powerful desire or aversion is a bad thing.
I am all too familiar with the struggle of coming to terms with old urges, which will often outstay their welcome, long after the liberation of a new insight. I choose to be patient with them, knowing why they have their own momentum, and how I retain the power to make of them what I will: a hurt, or a fear, or a lust can always be transformed.
My mind might be on the way to healing, though my feelings might still be ailing. Give it care. Give it attention. Give it time. Be responsible for yourself. The source of the disease is in the estimation, and the symptoms of the disease are in the temperament. Permit the effects to catch up with the cause.
I am regularly told I read far too many ancient myths, when I should really be concerned with the here and now. Yet I take those very tales from the distant past as guides for the immediate present, since all truth is timeless. Lately, I think of Ixion, who first succumbed to rage, and then was seduced by lust, and then was tortured on a wheel for all of eternity. Here was a fellow who was enslaved by his passions, instead of occupied with mastering them.
Sick in the head, and so sick in the heart. Progress is from the top to the bottom.
—Reflection written in 10/2013
IMAGE: Jules-Elie Delaunay, Ixion (1876)
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