We suffer more in our imaginations than in reality, Epicurus says: by exposing our false beliefs, we can get closer to achieving tranquility.
Epicurus (341 BCE - 270 BCE) was an ancient Greek philosopher who thought the good life was essentially characterized by pleasure. Life is about feeling good, Epicurus thought, and so we should do things that make us feel good.
It’s easy to scoff and splutter at this simplistic picture, “but life is about more than just eating and drinking and being merry! We have duties! We have potentials to fulfill!”
Epicurus would agree. While the modern word ‘epicurean’ has come to mean someone who champions sensual enjoyment, the actual philosophy of Epicurus is not about endless drunken revelry. Pleasure for the proper Epicurean is rich and multi-layered. Pleasure has hierarchy.
And by far and away the most important pleasure, Epicurus thinks, is ataraxia, literally meaning ‘not being troubled.’
As he puts it in his Letter to Menoeceus:
When we maintain that pleasure is the end [goal], we do not mean the pleasures of profligates and those that consist in sensuality, as is supposed by some who are either ignorant or disagree with us or do not understand, but freedom from pain in the body and from trouble in the mind.
Rather than seek short-lived active pleasure, Epicurus is more concerned with helping us secure long-term, passive pleasures, like having a body free from physical pain, and a mind free from fear and anxiety.
This is what the good life involves, Epicurus thinks: ataraxia, tranquility.
Dispelling that which disturbs ataraxia — namely fear and anxiety — should thus be one of our chief aims, and something with which philosophy can help us. Through careful and proper use of reason, Epicurus wants to demonstrate that many of our fears and anxieties are baseless.
In other words: we already have everything we need to live happy, tranquil lives, we just make mistakes about what’s important or real, and these mistakes lead us astray.
Epicurus thinks that by conducting philosophy as therapy in this way, we can relieve ourselves from many of life’s pains.
An important example that Epicurus sets his sights on is our fear that lots of terrible, painful things might happen to us. We can ease such fears, Epicurus urges, by philosophically examining them.
To the idea that lots of terrible, painful things might happen to us, Epicurus responds in rather no-nonsense fashion:
Continuous physical pain does not last long. Instead, extreme pain lasts only a very short time, and even less-extreme pain does not last for many days at once. Even protracted diseases allow periods of physical comfort that exceed feelings of pain.
Physical pain, while not exactly enjoyable, is not unendurable, either. When it’s intense, it usually doesn’t last that long, and if it does last a long time, it’s usually not that intense. (If it’s intense and lasts a long time, Epicurus cheerfully adds, it usually leads to death — which is also nothing to worry about, as the pain will then cease).
Of course, this doesn’t mean physical pain is welcome in the Epicurean life, nor that it’s not a big deal: the good life is one that maximizes pleasure and minimizes pain.
All Epicurus is saying is that the reality of physical pain is often radically different to what we imagine — in fact, we actually suffer more in our imagination than we do in reality: our fear of future physical pain causes us more harm than the physical pain itself.
Physical pain isn’t the only thing we worry about too much, Epicurus thinks. We might worry about harm coming to loved ones, about losing our livelihoods, even relatively small things like saying the wrong thing in a social situation.
In all these cases, the amount of mental anguish we go through in our imaginations dwarfs the reality of the pain we actually typically face in our day-to-day lives.
If we want to reduce harm in our lives, then, Epicurus — writing almost 2,500 years ago — warns us that it is on our minds that we must focus most of our efforts.
💭 One short philosophical email each Sunday. Unsubscribe any time.
In this area, Epicureanism shares much common ground with the practical wisdom of Stoicism (like its dichotomy of control), and to an extent that of Buddhism (like its Four Noble Truths).
Consider the Stoic philosopher Seneca, writing a couple of centuries after Epicurus:
There are more things … likely to frighten us than there are to crush us; we suffer more often in imagination than in reality.
Of course, agreeing with this insight is much easier than doing anything about it: our cunning, survival-tuned brains have ways of conjuring imagined dangers for us whether we like it or not.
Perhaps at times there are advantages to this: we can anticipate and thus mentally prepare ourselves for future difficulty. If we use our imaginations in this reasoned, preparatory fashion — seeing future situations clearly, and planning our reactions rationally — then the Epicureans and Stoics are all for it.
Often, though, the anticipation can run away from us and lead to paralyzing, mind-flaying anxiety. We imagine worst case scenarios, and the resulting emotions we’d experience, rather than the solutions we’d offer.
The trouble here is that, though the situations are imagined, the emotions are real: we cause ourselves real mental pain by getting stuck on a loop of worst case scenarios.
All we can do in such situations is try to recall and apply Epicurus’s advice, and see those imagined dangers for what they are: imagined.
If anything unfortunate did befall you, you would face it with the same strength and grace that you possess today. Why ruin the present by worrying about a set of imagined circumstances that will probably never come to pass in the way you fear they will?
The point agreed upon by Epicurus and the Stoics is that the power of imagination should be used to help us prepare, to help us see situations clearly, not just cause ourselves needless suffering by conjuring negative emotions for no reason.
This is easier said than done, of course, and by reading ancient Greek philosophy we’re not going to suddenly gain the power to dismiss our fears and anxieties at will.
However, an important marker of progress in doing so is identifying the source of our troubles: the thing causing us harm is not reality, it is the way we are using our imaginations.
By identifying the culprit — i.e. our undisciplined imaginations — we can better target our efforts in finding solutions. It is fear, not fact; it is our false beliefs causing us pain, not reality. By exposing our false beliefs, we can better make progress in achieving ataraxia.
Perhaps, then, a major stepping stone to the good life isn’t striving for moral or material perfection; perhaps it’s simply taking a breath, going for a walk, and being a bit easier on ourselves in our imaginations.
If you’re interested in learning more about Epicurus and six other major philosophical approaches to the good life — including Buddhism, Stoicism, and Existentialism — you might like my How to Live a Good Life guide.
You might also enjoy the following related reads:
Finally, if you enjoyed this article, you might like my free Sunday breakdown. I distill one piece of wisdom from philosophy each week; you get the summary delivered straight to your email inbox, and are invited to share your view. Consider joining 17,000+ subscribers and signing up below:
In one concise email each Sunday, I break down a famous idea from philosophy. You get the distillation straight to your inbox.
💭 One short philosophical email each Sunday. Unsubscribe any time.
From the Buddha to Nietzsche: join 17,000+ subscribers enjoying a nugget of profundity from the great philosophers every Sunday:
★★★★★ (100+ reviews for Philosophy Break). Unsubscribe any time.
Each break takes only a few minutes to read, and is crafted to expand your mind and spark your philosophical curiosity.