One of the great things about Stoicism, is that it helpfully puts its practitioners at ease with the world around them, a world that can often be cruel, unkind, unjust and just about awful in so many ways that the non-philosophical amongst us can be easily driven to give up on life and end it all. Suicide comes in many forms, whether it’s jumping off a bridge into the cold depths of the river below, overdosing on alcohol and pills in the hope of quietly slipping away from this life or worse yet the long drawn out mental decay of
Introduction The star of this article is Lucretius, a Roman poet living within 1st BCE Republican Rome. What makes this poet extraordinary and quite unique is that he wrote an epic length poem not of romance, heroism, adventure or any of that sentimental claptrap but wrote a philosophical poem on that of nature. You see, Lucretius was both a poet and a philosopher who synthesised the two into his magnum opus, The Nature of Things (De Rerum Natura, in Latin) a work dedicated to Epicurean philosophy. Typical of all works of naturalistic philosophy you will begin to notice
A Human Baby’s like a sailor washed up on a beach By the battering of the surf, naked, lacking the power of speech, Possessing no mean of survival, when first Nature pours Him forth with birth-pangs from his mother’s womb upon Light’s shores. He fills the room up with his sorrowful squalls, and rightly so! – Just think what lies in store for him, Life’s full supply of woe.