“In every act observe the things which come first, and those which follow it; and so proceed to the act,” writes Epictetus in his famous manual Enchiridion. “If you do not, at first you will approach it with alacrity, without having thought of the things which will follow; but afterward, when certain base (ugly) things have shown themselves, you will be ashamed.”

Speaking of making wise decisions, isn’t it strange that at some point in our lives we come to the most unexpected realization — that everything we’ve done up to this point was unconscious. All that we’ve done, thought or been seems like a series of submissions, either to the false self that we thought belonged to us because we expressed ourselves through it to the outside, or to the weight of circumstances that we supposed was the air we breathed.

In this moment of seeing, we suddenly find ourselves estranged and isolated, exiles where we thought we were citizens. In our minds, we weren’t who we thought we were. We realize we were all error and deviation, that we never lived, that we existed only in so far as we filled time with constant doing and achieving. So how can we learn to do better? How can we avoid this sarcastic terror of life and wake up to a better way of doing things? This is what ancient Greek philosopher Epictetus takes up in one of the passages of his timeless manual of ethical advice Enchiridion.

Unconscious living, irrational thinking, and impulsive behavior were as much an issue in ancient times as they are now. So it’s not surprising that many philosophers tried to address the matter in their own unique way. Epictetus starts by noting that it’s great if you want to win and come first in a competition. But in every affair consider what precedes and what follows. Epictetus writes:

A man wishes to conquer at the Olympic games. I also wish indeed, for it is a fine thing. But observe both the things which come first and the things that follow; and then begin the act. You must do everything according to rule, eat according to strict orders, abstain from delicacies, exercise yourself as you are bid at appointed times, in heat, in cold, you must not drink cold water, nor wine as you choose; in a word, you must deliver yourself up to the exercise master as you do to the physician, and then proceed to the contest. And sometimes you will strain the hand, put the ankle out of joint, swallow much dust, sometimes be flogged, and after all this be defeated.

Furthermore, Epictetus maintains that we have to be consistent in everything we do. In order to make wise decisions, we need to consider all angles, otherwise, we’ll “behave like children, who at one time play at wrestlers, another time as flute players, again as gladiators, then as trumpeters, then as tragic actors.” Epictetus writes:

So you will be at one time an athlete, at another a gladiator, then a rhetorician, then a philosopher, but with your whole soul you will be nothing at all; but like an ape you imitate everything that you see, and one thing after another pleases you. For you have not undertaken anything with consideration, nor have you surveyed it well; but carelessly and with cold desire. … These things are not consistent. You must be one man, either good or bad. You must either cultivate your own ruling faculty, or external things; you must either exercise your skill on internal things or on external; that is you must either maintain the position of a philosopher or that of a common person.

Complement this particular portion of Enchiridion, an ancient treasure trove of Stoic ethical advice, with Socrates on wisdom as a kind of knowledge and good judgement in leading people, Seneca on moderation and a middle way of restraining ourselves, and then revisit Aristotle on virtues as habits and small things that make all the difference.

“What is wisdom? What is moderation? What is courage? What is justice? What is the nature of reality itself? Looking at these questions today, we could just shrug our shoulders and discard them as irrelevant. After all, they seem too abstract and distant from real concerns of our everyday life. Or are they? Two and half millennia ago the Greek philosopher Plato considered answers to these questions vital, if not absolutely necessary, for a happy and fulfilling life, a conviction reflected in his timeless treatise The Republic (paperback | audiobook), where he envisioned a life of ideal society. In today’s post, we’re diving into wisdom, one of the four virtues that figure prominently throughout the dialogue. Understanding the nature of wisdom is not an easy task, and this particular excerpt sheds light on how it was perceived by one of the greatest philosophers in the history of Western thought. Please enjoy this audio performance by an immensely talented William Sigalis as Socrates and Ray Childs as Glaucon.

SOCRATES ON WISDOM
from The Republic of Plato

[Glaucon,] let’s say that if the republic [that we created] has been properly ordered, then it is completely good.

That necessarily follows.

Then do you believe that your republic is wise, courageous, moderate, and just?

I do.

Once we find some of these qualities, we can assume that the ones we have not yet discovered remain to be found.

That makes sense.

Hmm. Let’s suppose that we are looking for one thing out of four. If we find it first, that is the end of the search. But if we first find the other three and can eliminate them, then the one that remains is the one we are seeking.

True.

Then that is how we should proceed in the present case.

I agree.

Wisdom is the first one we saw in your republic, but there seems to be something strange about it.

What’s that?

When we say that republic is wise, don’t we mean that it practices good judgment?

Yes. We mean good judgment.

People make good judgments by knowledge, not by ignorance. So can we say that good judgment is a kind of knowledge?

Clearly.

But don’t we find many different kinds of knowledge in the Repuplic?

Of course.

For example, consider the knowledge of the carpenter. Is that the kind of knowledge that leads us to say that a republic is wise and has good judgement?

No. That only means it is skilled in making things out of it wood. …

Then do any of the citizens of your recently founded republic possess a kind of knowledge that advises about the entire republic rather than some particular thing? Does anyone know how to make the best policy concerning both citizens and foreigners?

Certainly.

Then what is this knowledge and who has it?

It is the knowledge of leading possessed by those we call guards in the fullest sense of the term.

Then what should we call a republic that has this kind of knowledge?

We should call it wise in the sense of having good judgment in leading people. …

Of all the groups that are named because they possess a certain kind of knowledge, don’t you think good leaders will be the smallest?

The smallest by far.

Then do we agree that the nature of the smallest group in a republic, those who govern a rule justifies calling the whole republic wise? And can we say that this is the only knowledge properly called wisdom?

Yes, Socrates, we do agree about that.

Glaucon, somehow we have discovered the nature and the place in the republic of one of the four things we are seeking.

I’m quite satisfied with our method.

Complement this particular passage from The Republic of Plato, a treasure trove of timeless wisdom, with another incredibly gratifying audio performance by William Sigalis as Socrates on moderation as a harmony that permeates all aspects of the human soul and then revisit the famous allegory of the cave that questions the nature of perceived reality itself.

What is the source of all unhappiness in our lives, and is there a way to overcome it? To answer this question, two and a half millennia ago, a young man named Siddhattha Gotama left his parents’ palace to become a wandering ascetic. After six years of extreme austerities and meditation, he attained enlightenment and expounded his famous teaching on the Four Noble Truths. Since then, wherever he went, he taught those who wanted to listen that the root cause of our suffering lies in our boundless cravings, and that the key to liberation lies in the Noble Eightfold Path.

While it’s unlikely that any of us will be able to complete the path and become enlightened in this lifetime, we can significantly lessen our pain by lessening our desires. This is what Roman philosopher Seneca and Greek philosopher Epicurus discuss in letters to their friends quoted in an altogether indispensable Letters on Ethics. And even though they lived in different times and belonged to different schools of thought, Seneca was a follower of Stoicism and Epicurus was the founder of Epicureanism, both of them agreed on what role desires play in our lives, and how restricting them can make one happy and fulfilled.

Drawing on his boundless wisdom and knowledge of rival philosophical schools, Seneca writes to his friend Lucilius Junior while quoting Epicurus writing to his friend Idomeneus:

It was to him [Idomeneus] that Epicurus wrote that fine sentence urging him to enrich Pythocles in no common or ambivalent way. He says, “If you want to make Pythocles rich, what you must do is not add to his money but subtract from his desires.”

He continues by noting that “this saying is too clear to need interpretation, and too well phrased to need improvement,” and that his only addition is that it applies not only to wealth but to everything else in life. Seneca writes:

If you want to make Pythocles honorable, what you must do is not add to his accolades but subtract from his desires.
If you wish to make Pythocles experience constant pleasure, what you must do is not add to his pleasure but subtract from his desires.
If you wish to make Pythocles live a long and complete life, what you must do is not add to his years but subtract from his desires.

And just to make sure that his friend Lucilius doesn’t miss his point, Seneca throws in another piece of advice:

For about those superfluous desires that can be put off, rebuked, or suppressed, I remind you only of this: such pleasure is natural but not necessary. You do not owe it anything: anything you do devote to it is voluntary. The belly does not listen to instructions: it merely demands and solicits. Still, it is not a troublesome creditor. You can put it off with very little, if you just give it what you owe rather than what you can. Farewell.

Complement these witty and life-changing passages from Seneca’s Letters on Ethics with Socrates on moderation as a harmony that permeates all aspects of the human soul, Aristotle on virtues as habits, and then revisit Seneca on the middle way of restraining ourselves.

“What is wisdom? What is moderation? What is courage? What is justice? What is the nature of reality itself? Looking at these questions today, we could just shrug our shoulders and discard them as irrelevant. After all, they seem too abstract and distant from real concerns of our everyday life. Or are they? Two and half millennia ago the Greek philosopher Plato considered answers to these questions vital, if not absolutely necessary, for a happy and fulfilling life, a conviction reflected in his timeless treatise The Republic (paperback | audiobook), where he envisioned a life of ideal society. In today’s post, I would like to draw your attention to one of the most enduring and captivating passages from this book that can serve as a subject for deep contemplation in our meditation practice — the allegory of the cave. In this allegory, we are likened to prisoners sentenced to a lifetime in a dark cave whose walls are full of flickering shadows. Please enjoy this audio performance by an immensely talented William Sigalis as Socrates and Ray Childs as Glaucon.

THE ALLEGORY OF THE CAVE
from The Republic of Plato

Now, Glaucon, let’s think about the ignorance of human beings and their education in the form of an allegory. Imagine them living underground in a kind of cave. The mouth of the cave, which is far above, is as wide as the cave itself and opens to the light outside. These people have been here since childhood. Their legs and necks are chained so that they cannot move. They can see only what is in front of them because the chains are fastened in a way that keeps them from turning their heads. A fire burns at some distance behind them. If you look carefully, you can see a wall between the fire and the prisoners, like a curtain that hides puppeteers showing their puppets.

I can see that.

Can you also see people passing behind the wall, carrying all kinds of objects above their heads so that they show over the wall? They are carrying statues of humans and animals made of wood, stone, and other materials. Some of them are talking, and others are silent.

That’s a strange image, Socrates, and these are strange prisoners.

They are like us. They see only the shadows the light from the fire throws on the wall of the cave in front of them, their own shadows, or those of the objects passing behind the wall. … If the prisoners were able to talk with each other about these shadows, wouldn’t they believe that they were discussing reality?

That’s right. …

So it’s obvious that for these prisoners, the truth would be no more than the shadows of objects.

That seems inevitable.

Now let’s consider how they might be released and cured of their ignorance. Imagine that one man is set free and forced to turn around and walk toward the light. … He would have to get used to seeing the world outside the cave. First, he will recognize the shadows. Then the reflections of people and other objects in the water. And finally, he could see the objects themselves. Then he will gaze at the night sky, still better able to see the light of the moon and the stars than the sunlight of the sun.

That’s probably how it would be.

But at last, he would be able to see the sun in its proper place, rather than its reflection in the water or somewhere else. Then he will be able to consider its true nature.

Yes. …

Glaucon, my friend, you may now connect this allegory with what we were saying before. What we normally see with our eyes can be compared with the prison where the people dwell. And the fire can be related to the power of the sun. Consider the journey out of the cave and seeing the things there to be the ascent of the soul to the realm of what is knowable. This is my belief which I have shared at your request. It would take God to know whether it is right or wrong. But regardless of whether it’s true or false, I believe that in the realm of what is knowable, the idea of the good appears last of all and can be seen only with great effort. Once we see it, we understand it to be the cause of all things that are right and beautiful, the origin and ruler of light in this world, and the ultimate source of truth and reason beyond it. This must be understood by anyone who wishes to act rationally and effectively, either in public or private life.

Complement this particular passage from The Republic of Plato with another incredibly gratifying audio performance by William Sigalis as Socrates on moderation as a harmony that permeates all aspects of the human soul and then revisit Aristotle on virtues as habits.