The Pleasant as a Habit

The Pleasant as a Habit

Horses are pleasant to the lover of horses, just as acts of justice are pleasant to the just man

Pleasures proceed from the nature of the thing that has them. Dogs enjoy chasing squirrels, cats don’t. Dogs don’t enjoy batting mice, cats do. These sorts of things are pleasant by nature.

Contradicting nature can occasionally be pleasant, but the problem with doing this is that nature will fight against the pleasure. As far as I know, only finite intelligent beings can enjoy contradicting nature. This is because nature is a limit, and by contradicting it we can feel as though we have no limitations. We can feel like gods.

The problem with doing this is that nature never gets tired out by our pretended attempts to transcend it. Try making a stone become tired of falling down by repeatedly tossing it up.

When we make a habit of an action which contradicts nature, we become far more enslaved than nature does. We become like men who are addicted to throwing a stone in the air, waiting for it to fly away. The habit makes what was once a novelty become a farce. Our only relief is to try to cease to be, to use our life to make death. But this is as impossible as trying to train stones to fly.

But the one who follows nature can love his life. The solipsistic, vain, and comical attempts to become as a god, which he can see all around him, vanish and recede more and more into darkness and oblivion. Over time, even the darkness recedes, driven out by light.

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