Happiness

I am happy. I am living my kind of life in my kind of way, the life I envisaged and aspired to when I was 20 years old and wrote in my journal, "To live a philosophical life in a tumultuous, uncertain world is my goal." I am pulling it off, and have been for over half a century. But the task of self-individuation is not yet complete. There is work yet to be done in becoming in act and fact what I am  in potency and possibility. A human life is a project, a task, not something given but something to be accomplished.  Be who you are becoming; become who you are.

Buona fortuna has played her part, but also personal focus and determination and the willingness to renounce what is incompatible with a steady advance along a single line. "A no, a yes, a straight line, a goal." (Nietzsche) I have always had a horror of an unfocused existence, of the lives of companions afloat rudderless, at the mercy of social winds and currents, or else drifting in the horse latitudes of  Sargassian despond.

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Dmitri writes, and I respond:

I was glad for you after reading your today's entry on happiness. I needed to look up Sargassian despond and horse latitudes to understand the ending, which was, as always, stimulating and enriching for me. Even if I completely missed your intended meaning, as I suspect I did, this entry was a great find.

The site to which you link is a curious one, and I cannot at the moment comment on it. But I will comment on "the horse latitudes of Sargassian despond."  'Sargassian' is an adjectival reference to the Sargasso Sea. But what does this have to do with horses and latitudes?

The horse latitudes are a region of the North Atlantic Ocean, located between 20° and 35° north latitude, where the winds are often calm and the sea is relatively still. This area is also known as the Sargasso Sea. (A.I. generated.) Further:

 

There is one such place renowned for its disquieting calms – the Sargasso Sea, a shoreless oval of water in the North Atlantic measuring some 2,000 by 700 miles. Bounded by ocean currents on all sides, the water rotates clockwise in an ocean gyre, slowly revolving like the eye of a hurricane. The area has struck terror into the minds of sailors for centuries. It was once known as the Horse Latitudes, after becalmed Spanish ships were forced to throw their horses overboard to save drinking water. Tales of ghost ships abound, their skeleton crews left to starve or go insane while their sails hung listlessly.

I became aware of the Horse Latitudes years ago via Jim Morrison's eponymous song.

 

As for my use of 'despond,' it is an allusion to the Slough of Despond  in Bunyan's The Pilgrim's Progress:

The Slough of Despond is a metaphorical place of spiritual despair, first introduced in John Bunyan’s allegory, The Pilgrim’s Progress. It is a deep, miry bog where Christian, the protagonist, sinks under the weight of his sins and guilt. The Slough represents the doubts, fears, and discouraging thoughts that can overcome a person, causing them to feel hopeless and trapped. (A.I. generated)

So what I was complaining about were those erstwhile companions of mine who were either without the means of self-direction ("afloat rudderless") or else had the means of self-direction but had drifted into a social environment lacking the right kinds of external stimulation ("drifting in the horse latitudes of Sargassian despond").

 

Dmitri continues:

Going back to the existence thread -- I decided to buy and read your book as I do want to understand the notion of existence you argue for. If not too difficult and time consuming, I'd be grateful to wire the payment directly to you for the book and the shipment. An autograph would be a deeply appreciated bonus. If you don't have the time for this stuff, I get it and will buy my copy from Amazon.

If I had a spare copy, I'd sent it to you gratis. But hold off from paying the outrageous Kluwer asking price.  Perhaps someone has a copy they he will part with for a reasonable amount.  Another reason to hold off is that I am trying to finish my response to John Cottingham which I will post on the blog and solicit his comments. That may well answer the questions you have.

Comments

[Dmitri]

Thanks Bill. I'll wait for your response to Cottingham.

On a side note, while the price of the book is clearly aimed at niche readership I have no problem with it. Personally I am surprised at how easily people shell out thousands on quickly forgettable entertainment, drinks or food but bulk at spending even a dime on books about eternally important and/or intriguing questions.

On another side note I was expecting to see a post on yesterday's presidential debate. I didn't watch it, just a few short bits demonstrating Biden's Brezhnev like cognitive state, but Jon Stewart's take on it was quite something...

[BV]

Dmitri,

Forgive my pedantry, but the word is 'balk' (American English), 'baulk' (British English).

But I do agree with your main point.

I'll put up something about the 'debate.' I watched about half of it. The consensus of the pundits seems to be that Sleepy Joe got slaughtered.

[EG]

Bill,

It is these posts, besides the other ones where you demonstrate a deep and sensitive poetic soul and an incisive philosophical vigor, that keep me coming back. They are a gift so freely given and I am always grateful for them, they keep me grounded in the right way. Thank you.

[BV]

EG,

Thank you for your kind words.

My post didn't strike you as a wee bit self-congratulatory?

[EG]

Bill,

As I have learned from my own life experience, we are sometimes our own publicists and cheerleaders, and in matters of genuine (self-)happiness, that can only ever come from our varieties of self-belief. They define the tone, horizon and the vision that guides our life. And, often enough, there is always some variable amount of self-deception. This is not a bug but a feature. Perhaps this is part of the Grace we are given, one we regularly misuse, but which we use to muddle through this sub-lunar sojourn.