The Happiness Myth_ An Expose - Jennifer Hecht [18]
Ancient Stoics said that happiness comes from living life in harmony with the universe—that is, that you should accept what life gives you and realize there is no reason to take any of it personally. They encouraged one another to show that they were okay with the universe by not minding pain or disappointment. Those who tout this plan too earnestly have always been teased for it. Cicero, for example, wrote that the Stoics were faking their calm in order to seem enlightened, and that when trouble comes, holding your breath and screaming inside is not all that much more noble than screaming out loud. Many wise people have rejected the idea of strictly controlling one’s desires, but all recognize that some self-control is necessary to happiness. Part of the reason for this is that a good day is not always compatible with a happy life: TV and a beer is fun now, but good grades are a bigger joy, and they require some resistance to TV and beer. The big desires have always been food, wine, sex, revenge, riches, products, and fame. The danger—beyond fat, stupidity, syphilis, narcissism, taxes, clutter, and gout—is meaninglessness. These desires and the hunt to fulfill them feel meaningless because they are only intrasubjectively sensible: while you are in a fit of wanting, planning, and satisfying a desire—for revenge, say—it all makes sense. However, the moment after the gun goes off, or the moment someone snaps you out of your thrall, you can see that the whole thing is a small, dark, crazy mess, like a tangle of seaweed on the beautiful beach of a majestic continent. You somehow got your head stuck in the tangle of seaweed and haven’t looked up in four years. When you do look up, out of either satisfaction or some shock, you will see that you have been wasting your time on something without any real merit or, worse, something that harms yourself and others.
The history of advice on food, wine, sex, riches, and products is discussed throughout this book, but we will here note that it is possible to shut down these desires almost completely, and that doing so is surpassingly liberating. Some people fall in love with controlling their desires, and as loves go, it is undeniably stable. And inexpensive. If you have never done it, you are missing out. But in the long term, for most people, shutting down your desires is not worth it. Moderation is tricky but seems to be worth the balancing act it requires. Even moderation takes a lot of learning to control what you want. People can teach themselves not to be ticklish, or to think their way out of an itch. Likewise, you can think your way out of wanting fancy shoes that cost two week’s pay. Let us stay with products for a moment. Things can bring pleasure, but no one thing brings that much more than any other thing. People enjoy new things at every decent economic level, as well they might; there are enjoyable things to be purchased at every economic level, and one can save up and treat oneself at every economic level. There is no reason to want things that are entirely out of reach, though. Throughout history, the old and the wise tell the young and the foolish not to bother with wanting big diamond rings. They say: Want what you have. That may reject too much of what is amusing about being an American at the rise of the twenty-first century. Perhaps for us it is more reasonable to say: Want what you can get.
Of the prime desires that wisdom tells us to control—food, wine, sex, riches, products, revenge, and fame—the last two need attention here. Many people suffer from a desire for fame and may find some specific counsel from the philosophers useful. Almost all of us suffer from a desire for recompense for having been treated badly, and we could all