This topics could also be a topics of aphorisms: for example, of the maxims about nature that dominated the scientific imagination until the nineteenth century. This year [at the ColJege de France], we will study in this way the aphorism of Heraclitus that is usually phrased as "Nature loves to hide herself," although this is certainly not the original meaning of the three Greek words so translated. We will examine the significance this formula takes on throughout antiquity and later on, as a function of the evolution of the idea of nature, the very interpretation proposed by Martin Heidegger.
Above all, this historical topics will be a topics about the themes of meditations of which we spoke a few minutes ago, which have dominated and still dominate our Western thought. Plato, for example, had defined philosophy as an exercise for death, understood as the separation of the soul from the body. For Epicurus this exercise for death takes on a new meaning; it becomes the consciousness of the finitude of existence that gives an infinite value to each instant: "Persuade yourself that every new day that dawns will be your last one. And then you will receive each unhoped for hour with gratitude." In the perspective of Stoicism, the exercise for death takes on a different charac.'ter; it invites immediate conversion and makes inner freedom possible: "Let death be before your eyes each day and you will not have any base thoughts or excessive desires." A mosaic at the Roman National Museum is inspired, perhaps ironically, by this meditation, as it depicts a skeleton with a scythe accompanied by the inscription Gnothi seauton, "Know thyself." Be that as it may, Christianity will make abundant use of this theme of meditation.
There it can be treated in a manner close to Stoicism, as in this monk's reflection: "Since the beginning of our conversation, we have come closer to death. Let us be vigilant while we still have the time." But it changes radically when it is combined with the properly Christian theme of p11rt ici11ni-ion in Christ's death. Leaving aside all of the rich Western litemry t r1ulit iun1 No well illustrated by Mont11igne's chnpter "Thill to philrn111ph i1c i11 to ll•11 1·11 111 die,"
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we can go straight to Heidegger in order to rediscover this fundamental philosophical exercise in his definition of the authenticity of existence as a lucid anticipation of death.
Linked to the meditation upon death, the theme of the value of the present instant plays a fundamental role in all the philosophical schools. In short it is a consciousness of inner freedom. It can be summarized in a formula of this kind: you need only yourself in order immediately to find inner peace by ceasing to worry about the past and the future. You can be happy right now, or you will never be happy. Stoicism will insist on the effort needed to pay attention to oneself, the joyous acceptance of the present moment imposed on us by fate. The Epicurean will conceive of this liberation from cares about the past and the future as a relaxation, a pure joy of existing: "While we are speaking, jealous time has flown; seize today without placing your trust in tomorrow." This is Horace's famous laetus in praesens, this "enjoyment of the pure present," to use Andre Chastel's fine expression about Marsilio Fidno, who had taken this very formula of Horace's for his motto. Here again the history of this theme in Western thought is fascinating. I cannot resist the pleasure of evoking the dialogue between Faust and Helena, the climax of part two of Goethe's Faust: "Nun schaut der Geist nicht vorwarts, nicht zurilck, I Die Gegenwart allein ist unser Gluck" ["And so the spirit looks neither ahead nor behind. The present alone is our joy . . . Do not think about your destiny.
Being here is a duty, even though it only be an instant"].