Artwork © Richard Spisak

 

Chapter 8

If Aristotle is right that pleasure is not an end unto itself but is in fact positive reinforcement meant to complement a good activity, that which, presumably, builds harmony, civility, and constructive purpose within the “soul” of the individual and outwardly, ethically, in the greater society, then conversely, it would seem that it should have been incumbent on him to address the efficacy of pain in achieving some greater good, if pain does in fact have some inherent good beyond that which we normally recognize.

Certainly, in small amounts, pain alerts us to being unwell or on the verge of being unwell. In the form of aching limbs, for example, there is the warning that if more running were to be done it might cause a tendon to be pulled, or that by feeling pain suddenly, forcing one to move a hand away from fire reflexively, major burns are avoided. However, the purpose of larger degrees of chronic pain is difficult to fathom, not that everything is, has, or has to have purpose—the teleological argument supposing erroneously that we are parts of a bigger whole, a microcosm in the making of a macrocosm, and yet every macrocosm is a microcosm of an even bigger part and all parts having purpose for the whole. Chronic pain is like a loud alarm that continues blaring even when the edifice is burning or smoldering in ashes, and has no purpose; and likewise, the vast array of experiences is totally coincidental with the rest flowing from circumstances conflated with minor planning. If we accept that pleasure is positive reinforcement for virtues, it is logical to assume that pain thwarts temptations to vice. But again, for whatever reason, it seems that he woefully neglected this subject in “Nicomachean Ethics” leaving us to fend for ourselves by grappling with this subject. It is doubtful that fear of the pain of venereal disease stops the philanderer any more than the fear of ignominy or confinement stops a potential bank robber, especially in a global society so fixated on wealth and procuring it through any means possible. But assuming one is actuated toward the right impulses, or at least away from the bad, and thus like a sunflower turns toward the light—that being toward virtue for a more harmonious, perfectly aligned “soul” the way Plato expresses it or the foundational happiness of golden mean, intellectual endeavors, and virtuous friends whose presence edifies and transforms the way Aristotle depicts it, I am certain one might be more fulfilled (a man who knows he has not exploited others, senses himself a kind person overall, and has no repressed regrets of his past actions that disturb him subconsciously and interrupt sleep), but being fulfilled does not add to the physical state of his life for it does not add or subtract days substantively. A clever, calculating, disingenuous, and manipulative man might add a few years onto his life from hospital care and specialists that monetary resources provide but an ingenuous, guileless man escaping the stresses from the game of procurement at all costs might also gain a few years by blowing around in life’s winds instead of being the juggernaut imposing his vision onto others within his volition as well as to the winds themselves.

And if a man’s life is less substantive than a cell; and a solar system, or even an entire galaxy is like a singular cell in the entity named God with collections of galaxies His tissues and internal organs, the question arises as to the significance these good or bad secretions of man in fact are in the vast cosmos of God. The size and dimensions of something in relation to something else are always factored into any calculus. A bad day can be shrugged off in its insignificance to the rest of the week and given my experience gluing my fragments of self after leaving the first family decades are often needed to dissolve the rock in the pit of one’s stomach to end that sinking feeling that stops one from transforming and flying anew. As Clifford in D. H. Lawrence’s “Lady Chatterley’s Lover” states it, human sexual encounters are as inconsequential as the mating of birds, and so the same is true: whether we are benefactors or malefactors, engaging in virtue or vice, it has nominal significance to God, if there is a god, for we would be tantamount to some chemical agents in the osmosis of His internal construct. But that is not to say that we should ever deliberately engage in vices. To evolve into more empathetic and egalitarian beings, to literally evolve into beings that do not run so much on instinctual fears and cravings is what life is about.

A complete evolution of this species is a long work in the making and doing what we can to be constructive and kind-natured beings is good for all and expedites our ascendance. From an inquiry into the purpose of pain, finding small amounts as natural forms of warnings, and larger amounts to have no purpose in its travail, not even as negative reinforcement that counters inclination toward vice, we are left questioning its design if indeed we lean toward the idea that the world is governed by design rather than chance. Design is invariably teleological in scope and if all are parts to a bigger whole and every macrocosm is a microcosm of the entirety of cosmos we are in God and secretions that we are, our osmosis, our virtue or our vice is inconsequential except myopically. We should want to transcend the savage instinctual entity that we were born as and with each day attempt to become a little more empathetic and a little more aware.

 

Steven David Justin Sills is a literary writer living in Phuket, Thailand. His book of poetry is in many libraries in the United States and a copy of one book owned by a library was scanned by the Internet Archive. Sills’ work can also be found on the Online Book Page at the University of Pennsylvania. Sills finished his last literary novel The Three Hour Lady over two years ago, and until recently, he was devoting that time to writing a long war poem about what is happening in Ukraine. Most of those 25 poems including his most recent poem are at this particular journal. As his graduate degree is great books of the Western Canon he has been wanting to write his own ethical treatise, and this forum affords him that opportunity.

Richard Spisak began his artistic career as a light artist in the Lumonics Studios of Mel Tanner, a legendary Light Artist. After serving under Jack Horkheimer as a planetarium operator at the Miami Space-Transit Planetarium, he left to begin traveling with Lumist Kenvin Lyman, whose show Dazzleland Studios traveled across America. Richard later worked as a Laserist with LASERIUM and Laser Productions, served as a technical producer for the festival company PACE Concerts, and later as operations Manager and Senior Producer at WWHP and WTCN-TV in Stuart Florida.

Richard writes for Theatre, TV, radio, and the web. He published two short story collections, Two Small Windows, in a Pair of Mirror Doors, and Between the Silences. Followed by his poetry collection 7370 Allen Drive and the recently released STONE POETRY. Richard also produces “POETS of the East,” a televised webcast featuring poets from across the globe.