There is no amount of vaporizing or philosophizing that will overcome two blunt truths: 1) we are devoted to pleasure; and, 2) anything contrary to that proposition is avoided.

All my life I have – as no doubt, dear Reader, so have you – predominated my existence with what I enjoy to do, to learn, to study, to entertain, to reward, to employ, to eat or to relax. There are infinite manners in which we devote ourselves to pleasure. Granted the word “pleasure” in this context suffers the same ambiguity which arises when comparing the Stoic and Epicurean philosophies; namely, that pleasure is not overall a trifling preoccupation or even one the pursuit of which is either vulgar or easy. Pleasure – as either a monopoly of life, or a retreat from death – is in my mind an axiomatic aspiration.

It is irrelevant which of the many narratives one chases for pleasure. It amounts to mere rhetoric to challenge one or the other – especially when considering the choices of other people. When confined to thoughts within one’s own perimeter, the matter of discretion is more pertinent to the issue of feasibility than reliability or any other projected sophistry. Practicality and reasonableness become the governing tools of one’s wistful determinations. With time this means the need for refinement and clarity in order to avoid the platitudes of surplusage. Too often throughout one’s life, we complicate the content of our toy box with too many diversions. Initially the predilection is overtaken by enormity from which we characteristically then spend the remainder of our life condensing and diminishing the vastness for the convenience of focus and certainty of design.

This process of distillation – while it promotes the ideal liquor – is not without its necessities and discernible limitations. The restrictions are pragmatic  – we are forced by the reality of infirmity and decomposition to decide. This inevitably makes short work of preposterous ambitions – though unwittingly the perceived compromise is deflected to a more robust settlement of one’s currency. Nor is the alteration any less enlarged than it might otherwise be by careful examination and assessment. What limits here, limits there; the preference for more tenable environment isn’t of necessity a disadvantage but rather an expansion. The adage of detail survives the analysis and evident proximity. There is by the way an alternative but it is not one I prefer:

“He considers the route, computes the time of travelling, measuring his life by the length of the journey; and torments himself by thinking of the blow to come.”—Claudianus, in Ruf., ii. 137

The toxicity if any to be conjoined is that of parallel living; that is, alignment with one’s immediacy both physical and spiritual. The evasion of one’s compelling reality is a disfavour all ‘round; but this doesn’t imply submission to what you don’t want, rather embracing what you do want. There is a peacefulness in the process, an unaccustomed tranquility and uniformity (the enigmatic benefits of clear thinking and resourcefulness). There shall no doubt be plenty of time later to ponder the voyage to eternal exile.