“Soul” is not a word you hear very much these days. In modern-day parlance, its most common use is probably, “It was good for my soul”, while referring to something that made you feel better for one reason or another.
You’re certainly not going to open a conversation at the pub or over a family dinner with, “How’s your soul going?” or “Do you look after your soul very often?”
So when I tell people that I spent a recent Sunday at an all-day workshop on “Care of the Soul”, I don’t expect to get a particularly effusive reaction. Not because people don’t care or they think it sounds like a dumb idea (although maybe they do!). It’s simply because they don’t know what to say.
After being a student at the School of Practical Philosophy for about six years, I’m used to this reaction. When I used to tell my workmates that I spent the previous evening at the School of Philosophy discussing happiness or freedom or love with a group of (almost) strangers, they mostly didn’t know what to say either. Some showed polite interest; others asked if there was any homework. (Yes, there is, but it’s always optional).
My last blog post was about how I used to dislike old houses until I moved to my current home in Featherston. Strictly speaking, The Card House is really the second old building I’ve grown to love. The first is the home of the School of Philosophy at 33 Aro Street, Wellington, pictured here.
Built in 1913, it was used by The Salvation Army as an officer training college until 1982, when the Army moved to a new training centre in Upper Hutt and sold the building to the School of Philosophy.
I’ve often thought if I was unlucky enough to be in Wellington during a major earthquake and prevented from leaving the city, the School of Philosophy is where I’d want to be. Not because of its safety record (the building was, in fact, yellow-stickered at one point before major earthquake strengthening work was done), but because of how I feel when I’m inside the building. Safe and secure. Warm. Surrounded by good people. And good food (the building includes an industrial-sized kitchen, perfect for group catering, with an accompanying well-stocked pantry). There are dormitory-style bedrooms upstairs, and when I’ve stayed there occasionally for weekend retreats, I’ve always slept well.
Put simply, the building has a great vibe. A good soul. If that sounds too woo-woo for you, best I don’t get started on the mantra meditation that is offered by the School to promote inner peace and happiness.
Suffice to say, as you’ve probably gathered, the School of Philosophy is not the kind of place you go to talk about the best way to cover your grey hairs or the latest must-watch series on Netflix (although you may end up doing that over coffee or lunch). Instead, it’s a place to meet and talk with like-minded people about life’s big questions. Who am I? How do I live a good life? What is truth? And so on. The deep stuff.
In doing so, we examine many different kinds of philosophic traditions. I think my favourite group of philosophers are the Stoics. Stoicism has got nothing to do with “a stiff upper lip” as we commonly think. The name is actually derived from the Greek word stoa, meaning porch, because that’s where the founder of Stoicism, Zeno, first taught his students.
The basic premise of Stoicism is that there is only thing in life we can truly control or rely on, and that is our “reasoned choice” – our ability to use reason to choose how we respond to external events. Our one and only task in life is to use that reason to work out how to live well. The rest is outside our influence. We can’t control other people, the weather, our aging bodies, that blasted virus or the dog (although as Barnard and I have discovered, a good GPS system works wonders on the dog – more on that in a future post).
What does all of this have to do with soul? Maybe not much. And, as is often the case at the Philosophy School, the “Care of the Soul” day raised more questions for me than it answered. But one thing it did give me was a reminder to be kind to myself. Not to push too hard. And in a world which can feel out of control in so many ways, sometimes the best thing you can do is go outside for 20 minutes and throw a stick for the dog. That way, not only will you feel better, but he’ll go to sleep for a couple of hours, and you can finally get around to finishing that blimming blog post.
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