This month, we’re walking you through the Eight Rules of The School of Life: our manifesto for a happier, kinder, and more fulfilling way of living. | | | Though there is a vast amount to feel sad about, we’re not individually cursed and against the backdrop of darkness, many small sweet things should stand out: a sunny day, a drifting cloud; dawn and dusk, a tender look. With the tragedy of existence firmly in mind, we can take pleasure in a single, uneventful day, some delicate flowers or an intimate conversation with a friend. We can learn how to draw the full value from what is good, whenever, wherever and in whatever doses it arises. Despair but do so cheerfully: believe in cheerful despair. | | | The paradoxical and cheering aspect of pleasure is how weird and promiscuous it proves to be. It doesn’t neatly collect in the most expensive boutiques. It can refuse to stick with us on fancy holidays. It is remarkably vulnerable to emotional trouble, sulks and casual bad moods. A fight that began with a small disagreement about how to pronounce a word can end up destroying every benefit of a five star resort. This article is free to read. | | | Early on in the history of melancholy, the Greek philosopher Aristotle was said to have raised a question which it’s hard to answer without sounding self-serving – or smug: ‘Why is it that so many of those who have become outstanding in philosophy, statesmanship, poetry or the arts have been melancholic?’ | | | Much of the reason why we give up, fall into despair and abandon our projects is not because things are hard per se but because they are harder – far harder – than we had ever expected them to be. It isn’t necessarily difficulty that sinks us; it’s misconceived notions of what a task should legitimately demand. | | | Follow us on social media: | | | |
