The work of 19th-Century German philosopher Arthur Schopenhauer is not, by any definition, light reading. It expanded on a foundation laid by Kant and influenced the likes of Nietzsche and Freud. It was read and admired by Einstein.
Schopenhauer despised nationalism. He believed in animal rights two hundred years before it was a thing. He espoused compassion in all matters, and yet was an incurable misanthrope.
He was, during his life and through the lens of history, a certifiable loon in many ways. (A thoughtful comparison to Thoreau would be fair, in my opinion.) And overall, Schopenhauer really isn’t my cup of Tee.
That’s not to say that I dismiss him entirely.
Last night, I came across some well-crafted commentary on why a lot of “senior men” (defined as 60s and older) tend to cut people off, become less social and keep to themselves. I found the discussion intriguing. For obvious reasons, I identified strongly with the subject.
Toward the end of the piece, a quote from Arthur Schopenhauer showed up:
“A man can be himself only so long as he is alone; and if he does not love solitude, he will not love freedom; for it is only when he is alone that he is really free.”
I could stop right there, knowing that you recognize why that rings true with me, but I won’t. There’s much more to this than a snippet.
A man spends most of a lifetime uncovering his true self — he can’t help but learn who he is at his core. At the same time, he’s barricaded from manifesting his nature by demands that his world places on him.
He must provide. A man accommodates the will and wishes of others, from work to social circles to family, all at the expense of his genuine self. He must feign a nurturing spirit, acceptance of the unacceptable and a tolerance for the intolerable with capacity that doesn’t exist within him.
When he approaches his mid-60s, he realizes that he’s closer to the end than to the beginning. He’s mortal. Time, which once seemed limitless, becomes finite — and palpably so.
And so he withdraws into himself. He cultivates few relationships. He doesn’t attend affairs that mean little or nothing to him. He keeps his own counsel, is satisfied with his own company and makes neither allowances nor room for that which doesn’t belong in his world.
Immediately, he’s misunderstood. He must be lonely. He’s clearly depressed. Selfish. Bitter. Broken.
He’s given up.
No one who hasn’t been a man of that age will grasp what’s really going on — they can’t. I know I didn’t until I arrived myself.
It’s not surrender. It’s the opposite. It’s a declaration, maybe for the first time in his life, of freedom. This man rejects whatever is unsatisfactory to him, everything that isn’t his nature and his essence.
His silence? His solitude? Those he does for himself alone. They exist for one purpose: to protect his peace.
What I’ve shared with you here today is more true than you can know unless, like me, you’re a man who sees his sun nearing the western horizon. We do, as Dylan Thomas wrote, “rage against the dying of the light,” but not in the way you may expect.
And that’s what’s on my mind on a rainy summer Saturday. I’ll leave you with one more quote from Arthur Schopenhauer:
“There are two kinds of people in the world. Avoid both of them.”
Sage advice for us all.
Take care of yourselves, Patriots. Stay calm. Stay sharp. Stay free.
#WiseUp #LibertyOrDeath #Ungovernable