An interesting thing to ponder:

It is to be hoped that this book reaffirms the worth of implicit communication; not everything that needs to be said needs to be said outright. Some things, indeed, cannot be directly told: like happiness which ‘writes white’ they vanish when put into words.

I have often thought fun is the same way. "I don't believe in fun," see, that is to say, fun is implicit. It is the white space - much like slack - which must surround all of the speaking, working, doing. The pursuit of fun, entertainment, happiness is a circular pursuit: the dog's tail. Slack works the same way - you cannot 'seek' slack. A slack seeker is called a slacker. You must have some slack, or like an over-stretched rubber band - you break. You cannot avoid it; you must not be without it. Likewise if things are not entertaining, we lose interest. But if our own entertainment is the purpose for which we are doing something - anything - it becomes vanity.

Or so I'm boldly claiming.

About implicit things - we may be transmitting memes we are unaware of - implicit from those who taught us, implicit in us, and implicit in the recipient. Know thyself, indeed!

I had to chuckle when I read this line from Rasselas:

"Do you think," said Nekayah, "that the monastick rule is a more holy and less imperfect state than any other? May not he equally hope for future happiness who converses openly with mankind, who succours the distressed by his charity, instructs the ignorant by his learning, and contributes by his industry to the general system of life; even though he should omit some of the mortifications which are practised in the cloister, and allow himself such harmless delights as his condition may place within his reach?"

Let me explain: Even though Imlac the poet dismisses the idea in the next paragraph it seems that this is more or less the answer to the question in the book. Well, it's certainly as close as he is willing to entertain for his readers. If one has the choice, (which one does not always) it is best to 'remember God, follow the scripture, and not leave your situation readily.' Or so says Antony the Great...

Eudaimonia was the idea of the 'happy life' - which to Platonists might have meant escaping the prison of the body. Absurd! But, given their views on the soul, creation, God, etc, which were speculative and turned out to be erroneous, it would have made some sense. Eudaimonia is not happiness, itself, that is, the state of mind of contentment, but is contentment or happiness lived. You could translate it as 'good life.' It is commonly thought that happiness lived is effected by one's lot or fate in life (the 'daimon' in the word) but I think the question is asked backwards; We are more or less asking what is the life which produces happiness; but perhaps we ought to ask what is the life that happiness produces?

Sometimes we're tempted to grieve about the world. Maybe sometimes we grieve about the sin in the world; that is, the things which mar the world which would otherwise be as it ought to be; good. Sometimes we grieve that the world is not how we would like it to be. Other times, though, I find myself grieving more about my failings rather than the world's problems, and not even so much about my actual errors or sins.

This is the fundamental trouble with attaining virtue - to know what it means to be human in a true sense would mean having some deeper knowledge of the state (of course) which would have to involve an experience of it. On some level, we're able to know of things before we know them, which helps, but how often do we repeat that which we don't really understand?

Acquiring virtue takes a certain amount of prerequisite virtue. Otherwise, I may (as I have said perhaps a thousand times to people whom I converse with regularly) not identify where I really have erred. Instead I will find myself sad over "the fact I cannot jump to the moon." It seems to me that the greatest challenge is figuring out where I chose wrongly - which often is distinct from the 'pain point' of the whole thing: the consequences of the error.

And then, I am convinced that we are often depressed not because we are grieving, but because it takes strength to be happy. Happiness is something we choose: And do we not demand that the world make us happy rather than deciding to be content? Compounding the problem is that we now have few times where happiness is demanded of us - regardless of how we feel.

This is of course to be distinguished from being happy and sad with a media icon or as a result of brainwashing - those are the substitutes for the real thing.