forego the many satisfactions (family, friends, home, accumulation
of wealth) available to other humans.
Again and again he calmed himself by reciting mantras
based on the fact of his genius: «My life is heroic and not to be
measured by the standards of Philistines, shopkeepers or ordinary
men.... I must therefore not be depressed when I consider how I
lack those things that are part of an individual`s regular course of
life.... therefore it cannot surprise me if my personal life seems
incoherent and without any plan.» Schopenhauer`s belief in his
genius served also to provide him with a perduring sense of life
meaning: throughout his life he regarded himself as a missionary
of truth to the human race.
Loneliness was the demon that most plagued Schopenhauer,
and he grew adept at constructing defenses against it. Of these, the
most valuable was the conviction that he was master of his
destiny—that he chose loneliness; loneliness did not choose him.
When he was younger, he stated, he was inclined to be sociable,
but thereafter: «I gradually acquired an eye for loneliness, became
systematically unsociable and made up my mind to devote entirely
to myself the rest of this fleeting life.» «I am not,” he reminded
himself repeatedly, «in my native place and not among beings who
are my equal.»
So the defenses against isolation were powerful and deep: he
voluntarily chose isolation, other beings were unworthy of his
company, his genius–based mission in life mandated isolation, the
life of geniuses must be a «monodrama,” and the personal life of a
genius must serve one purpose: facilitating the intellectual life
(hence, «the smaller the personal life, the safer, and thus the
better»).
At times Schopenhauer groaned under the burden of his
isolation. «Throughout my life I have felt terribly lonely and have
always sighed from the depths of my heart, �now give me a human
being` but, alas in vain. I have remained in solitude but I can
honestly and sincerely say it has not been my fault, for I have not
shunned or turned away anyone who was a human being.»
Besides, he said, he was not really alone because—and here
is another potent self–therapy strategy—he had his own circle of
close friends: the great thinkers of the world.
Only one such being was a contemporary, Goethe; most of
the others were from antiquity, especially the Stoics, whom he
quoted frequently. Almost every page of «About Me» contains
some aphorism spawned by a great mind supporting his own
convictions. Typical examples:
The best aid for the mind is that which once for all breaks the
tormenting bonds that ensnare the heart.—Ovid
Whoever seeks peace and quiet should avoid women, the
permanent source of trouble and dispute.—Petrarch
It is impossible for anyone not to be perfectly happy who
depends entirely upon himself and who possesses in himself all
that he calls his.—Cicero
A technique used by some leaders of therapy or personal
growth groups is the «who am I?» exercise; members write seven
answers to the question «who am I?» each on a different card, and
then arrange the cards in order of importance. Next they are asked
to turn over one card at a time, beginning with the most peripheral
answer and to meditate upon what it would be like to let go of (that
is, disidentify with) each answer until they get to the attributes of
their core self.
In an analogous manner, Schopenhauer tried on and
discarded various self attributes until he arrived at what he
considered his core self.
When, at times, I felt unhappy it was because I took myself to
be other than I was and then deplored that other person`s
misery and distress. For example, I took myself to be a lecturer
who does not become a professor and has no one to hear his
lectures; or to be one about whom this Philistine speaks ill or
that scandal monger gossips; or to be the lover who is not
listened to by the girl with whom he is infatuated; or to be the
patient who is kept home by illness; or to be other persons
afflicted with similar miseries. I have not been any of these; all
this is the stuff from which the coat has been made which I
wore for a short time and which I then discarded in exchange
for another.
But, then,who am I? I am the man who has writtenThe
World as Will and Representation which has given a solution
to the great problem of existence which perhaps will render
obsolete all previous solutions.... I am that man, and what
could disturb him in the few years in which he has still to draw
breath.
A related soothing strategy was his conviction that sooner or
later, probably after his death, his work would become known and
would drastically alter the course of philosophic inquiry. He first
began expressing this opinion early in life, and his belief in
ultimate success never wavered. In this he was similar to both
Nietzsche and Kierkegaard, two other independent and
unappreciated thinkers who were entirely (and correctly)
convinced that they would have posthumous fame.
He eschewed any supernatural consolations, embracing only
those based on a naturalistic worldview. For example, he believed
that pain ensues from the error of assuming that many of life`s
exigencies are accidental and, hence, avoidable. Far better to
realize the truth: that pain and suffering are inevitable, inescapable,
and essential to life—«that nothing but the mere form in which it
manifests itself depends on chance, and that our present suffering
fills a place...which, without it, would be occupied by some other
suffering. If such a reflection were to become a living conviction,
it might produce a considerable degree of stoical equanimity.»
He urged us to live and experience lifenow rather than live
for the «hope» of some future good. Two generations later
