Philosophy is, by definition, “the study of the fundamental nature of knowledge, reality, and existence” (Oxford Languages). There are different philosophical schools that have developed throughout history, all dealing with the same questions from myriad perspectives, from the ancient Stoics to the Epicureans, Peripatetics to the Cynics. The modern philosopher is more likely to take an eclectic approach than to solidify in one school, but it’s all in an effort to pare away at the same fundamental knowledge.
Those who study philosophy take its study seriously. Throughout history we hear of the difficulty of leading a philosophical life, whether it be Epictetus saying that we must undergo a “hard winter’s training,” or Nietzsche lashing out at the reader through the words of his essays. One of the most poignant examples comes from Musonius Rufus, Epictetus’ teacher often hailed as the “Roman Socrates.” He is quoted as saying:
When a philosopher is… discussing some aspect of philosophy, if the audience pour forth trite and commonplace words of praise in their enthusiasm… and [are] swayed by the charm of his words, by the rhythm of his phrases… then you may know that both the speaker and his audience are wasting their time.
He goes on to explain that a worthy philosophical lecture will leave the audience in silence. This much is clear— the study of philosophy is for the improvement of the soul, not for enjoyment and recreation.
Of course, there is rhetorical technique at play here— would philosophers devote their lives to it if they didn’t enjoy it in some way? Epictetus, Nietzsche and Rufus are hyperbolizing about the weight of philosophy. It is a study, not a game. It is for practice in life, not for self-gratifying arrogance. It should make you think, make you question the essence of your soul, make change.
But in that hyperbole, the point can get muddled. Studying the nature of existence is lofty work, but it’s also necessary— for everyone. It is how we improve ourselves, but that doesn’t always necessitate hardship. This was a barrier to entry for me when I began my study. When I discovered Stoicism, the fundamental teachings resonated with me immediately, but often not in a challenging way. Stoicism is notoriously accessible, so the topics did become more difficult when I branched away from Stoicism, but I found not as much challenge as I did excitement and interest.
I thought that I was not understanding properly, or I wasn’t taking it seriously enough. What I have discovered, though, is that philosophy provides validation. It seems counter to the hard winter’s training and the blowback of silence, but it fits right in: you study what resonates with you. If you are just beginning, you will gravitate toward what makes sense and reject what doesn’t. Therefore, it’s not a sign of error if you lavish praise on these teachings; rather, it’s an indication that you are in the right place.
In order for something to be of value, it does not need to be difficult— a lesson that seems lost on the philosophers who guard their ivory towers. There is great value in finding those who think like you, who carved out the road in front of you before you were even born. Immerse yourself in what you love, in what resonates with you.
A hard winter’s training may come, when a new idea shakes you to your core or expands your perspective, but learning does not have to be suffering.
Edited by Jeremy Harr and Abigail McKay Cherry
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Noah, This comment: He goes on to explain that a worthy philosophical lecture will leave the audience in silence. This much is clear— the study of philosophy is for the improvement of the soul, not for enjoyment and recreation. This is what your treatises do to me. Thank you for the thoughts and work you put into them.
“Question the essence of your soul.” Every day.
Nice work, Noah!