Mark: Most self-help tells you to 'find your happiness.' What if that's terrible advice? A 2,300-year-old philosopher argued that chasing happiness is the surest way to miss it. The real goal is something far more powerful, and it’s a project, not a feeling. Michelle: Okay, that's a bold start. You're telling me my vision board is a waste of time? Because I just spent an hour cutting out pictures of beaches. Mark: It might be! Or at least, it might be pointing you in the wrong direction. That's the core idea in Edith Hall's book, Aristotle's Way: How Ancient Wisdom Can Change Your Life. And Hall isn't just a philosopher; she's one of Britain's top classicists who says Aristotle's ideas literally saved her after she lost her faith. She even traveled to all the places he lived to write this. Michelle: Wow, so this isn't just academic for her. It's personal. That's a much more interesting angle than just a dusty philosophy text. So where does she start? What's this big 'project' of happiness if it's not, you know, being happy? Mark: Exactly the right question. For Aristotle, it starts by understanding that there are different kinds of happiness, and we're usually chasing the wrong one.

Mark: Hall uses a great historical comparison to kick things off. Think about two famous queens: Marie Antoinette of France and Queen Victoria of Britain. Michelle: Okay, I'm with you. One is famous for saying "Let them eat cake" and losing her head, the other for... being very serious and wearing black for decades. Mark: Precisely. From an objective standpoint, looking at their lives from the outside, Victoria had a 'happy' life. She lived long, had nine children who all survived to adulthood, and was admired globally. Marie Antoinette had children die young, was despised by her people, and was executed. Objectively, Victoria's life was one of well-being. Michelle: Right, no contest there. You'd definitely choose Victoria's life if you were picking from a catalog. Mark: But here's the twist. That's just objective happiness. Aristotle was far more interested in subjective happiness. That's the internal state of contentment, meaning, and fulfillment. We have no idea if Victoria was subjectively happy. She could have been miserable. And Marie Antoinette, in certain moments, might have felt profound joy. Michelle: Ah, so it's the difference between having a good life on paper versus actually feeling fulfilled inside. I know plenty of people who look like they have it all but are secretly a mess. Mark: That is the exact distinction. And this is where most of us get tripped up. We chase the external markers—the job, the money, the relationship—thinking they will create the internal feeling. Aristotle flips that script. He says you have to build the internal state first. He called it Eudaimonia. Michelle: Hang on, 'Eudaimonia.' Let's break that down. It's not just 'being happy,' right? What's the real difference? Mark: It's a huge difference. 'Happiness' is a fleeting emotion. Eudaimonia is better translated as 'flourishing' or 'a life well-lived.' It's not a feeling you chase; it's the outcome of a life of purpose and virtuous action. It’s an ongoing project. John F. Kennedy actually had a fantastic summary of it: "The full use of your powers along lines of excellence in a life affording scope." Michelle: Wow, that's a mouthful, but it's powerful. It’s active. It’s about doing, not just feeling. But come on, what about a life that's just pure, unadulterated fun? The book mentions the actor Errol Flynn. On his deathbed, he supposedly said, "I've had a hell of a lot of fun and I've enjoyed every minute of it." Isn't that a successful life? Mark: That's the perfect challenge to Aristotle's idea. This is the philosophy of hedonism—the idea that a good life is one that maximizes pleasure. But Aristotle would find that incomplete. And the philosopher Robert Nozick came up with a thought experiment that blows it out of the water. Michelle: I love a good thought experiment. Hit me. Mark: Nozick called it the 'Experience Machine.' Imagine a machine you could plug into for the rest of your life. It would give you any experience you desired. You could be a rock star, a brilliant scientist, an Olympic athlete. You would feel all the pleasure, all the success, and you wouldn't know it wasn't real. Would you plug in? Michelle: Whoa. My first instinct is yes, sign me up! But... no. No, I wouldn't. Because it's not real. I'd just be a body floating in a tank. The achievements wouldn't actually be mine. Mark: And that's Nozick's point, and Aristotle's too. We want to be a certain type of person, to actually do things and earn our achievements. We value reality, struggle, and genuine connection over simulated pleasure. A life of pure fun, like Errol Flynn's, might feel good, but it can lack meaning. And the cost of a meaningless life is terrifying. Hall brings up Tolstoy's story, The Death of Ivan Ilyich. Michelle: I remember reading that in college. It was bleak. Mark: It's the ultimate cautionary tale. Ivan Ilyich is a high court judge. He's lived his entire life by the book—the wrong book. He pursued status, money, and social climbing. He married for advantage, not love. He was obsessed with appearances. Then, he gets a terminal illness, and on his deathbed, he's forced to look back at his life. Michelle: And he realizes it was all for nothing. Mark: Worse than nothing. He realizes it was a sham. He sees that he pushed away every opportunity for genuine love and compassion. His family is just waiting for him to die so they can get his money. And in his final moments, he's filled with this profound terror, screaming, "I have not lived as I should have." He chased pleasure and status, and ended up with a life that was, in his own words, "false" and "terrible." That's the price of ignoring Eudaimonia. Michelle: Okay, that's horrifying. So if happiness is this grand project of a life well-lived, how on earth do you even start? It sounds overwhelming. Mark: It does, but Aristotle is incredibly practical. He says if your life is a project, then you need a toolkit. And he gives us one. The first tool is understanding your own potential.

Mark: Aristotle had this concept called dynamis, which is Greek for potentiality. He believed everything in the universe has an inherent purpose or potential, from an acorn that has the potential to become an oak tree, to a human being. Being 'true to yourself' isn't about following some fleeting passion; it's about actualizing your unique potential. Michelle: This is great, but how do you find your potential? It feels so abstract. I mean, most of us aren't born knowing we're meant to be a philosopher or a concert pianist. We're just trying to get through the week. Mark: Aristotle's advice is surprisingly simple: follow the pleasure. But not the hedonistic, Errol Flynn kind of pleasure. He means the pleasure that comes from an activity that you're good at and that engages you. The feeling of 'flow.' He says that the occupations that bring us this kind of deep, satisfying pleasure are clues to our potential. They are the things we should aim for, because doing them well perfects our activities and leads to a more fulfilling life. Michelle: So if you love coding, or gardening, or organizing things, and you get lost in it for hours, that's a signpost pointing toward your potential? Mark: Exactly. And Edith Hall shares a beautiful personal story about this. In her late twenties, she felt completely lost. She had a degree in classics but no idea how to contribute to the world. She felt her potential was just sitting there, untapped. Michelle: I think a lot of people can relate to that feeling. Mark: For sure. So she had a conversation with a mentor, a lecturer named Margot Heinemann. And this mentor didn't give her vague advice. She did an Aristotelian assessment. She said, "Okay, let's look at your assets. You have a clean driving license. You have an analytical brain. You have communication skills. You have a degree in classics." She laid out Hall's potential in concrete terms. Michelle: She gave her an inventory of her dynamis. Mark: Precisely. And that conversation changed everything. It gave Hall the clarity to pursue a doctorate and become the world-renowned classicist she is today. It wasn't about finding a magical calling; it was about identifying her existing potential and deciding to actualize it. Michelle: That's so much more empowering. It's not about waiting for inspiration to strike, it's about taking stock of what you already have and putting it to work. But it also highlights the importance of having the right conditions. What about people who never get that kind of mentorship or support? Mark: That's a huge point in the book. Aristotle was a big believer in universal education for this very reason. He argued that intelligence is randomly distributed, and if a society fails to provide the conditions for people to realize their potential, everyone loses. The book cites a modern statistic that over a third of working adults in the UK believe their job is pointless. Think of all that wasted human potential. Michelle: It's a massive loss for society. So you identify your potential. What's the next tool in the kit? Mark: Making good decisions. Aristotle called it euboulia, or competent deliberation. He gives a whole checklist for it: don't decide in a hurry, verify your information, consult experts, consider everyone affected. It's a systematic process. Michelle: It sounds like a project manager's dream. But what about character? You can have all the potential and make all the right decisions, but if you're, say, a jerk, you're probably not going to be flourishing. Mark: You've just hit on the core of his ethics: the 'golden mean.' Aristotle believed that every virtue is a middle point between two extremes, or vices. Courage, for example, is the mean between cowardice (a deficiency) and rashness (an excess). Generosity is the mean between meanness and prodigality. Michelle: So it’s about balance. Not too little, not too much. What would be a modern example? Like, the golden mean of using social media? Mark: That's a perfect application. The deficiency would be being a total Luddite, cut off from modern connection. The excess would be being chronically online, comparing your life to others and getting lost in outrage. The golden mean would be using it intentionally—to connect with friends, learn new things, and then logging off to live your actual life. Michelle: And the key is that this isn't a fixed point. The 'mean' is different for everyone and in every situation. It requires constant judgment. Mark: Constant judgment and practice. Aristotle says virtues are like skills. You're not born courageous. You become courageous by doing courageous things, over and over, until it becomes a habit. It’s moral muscle memory. Michelle: Okay, so you figure out yourself—your potential, your decision-making, your character. But we don't live in a vacuum. How does this 'project' work when you have to deal with other people? Mark: Ah, now we get to the social arena. For Aristotle, you can't achieve Eudaimonia alone. He famously said that man is a zoon politikon.

Michelle: A 'political animal.' I've heard that phrase. It sounds a bit... calculating. Mark: It's better translated as a 'social animal' or 'an animal who lives in a community.' His point is that we are fundamentally social creatures. A fulfilling life is impossible without connection to others. And this is where his ideas on friendship and communication come in. Michelle: Right, the book talks about different kinds of friendships. Mark: Yes, and this is so useful for navigating modern relationships. He outlines three types. First, there are friendships of utility. These are relationships based on mutual benefit. Michelle: So my relationship with my accountant, or the barista who knows my coffee order? That's a utility friendship? It sounds so cold! Mark: Aristotle would say it's just honest! It's not a bad thing. It's a relationship that serves a purpose. The problems arise when you mistake it for another type. The second type is friendships of pleasure. These are your party friends, your gym buddies, the people you share a hobby with. The connection is based on shared fun and enjoyment. Michelle: Okay, I have a lot of those. They're great, but maybe not the people I'd call at 3 a.m. with a crisis. Mark: Exactly. Because that's the third, and highest, form: friendships of virtue. These are the rare, deep connections based on mutual respect for each other's character. You love the person for who they are, not for what they can do for you or how much fun they are. You are committed to their well-being, and they are committed to yours. This is the kind of friendship that builds Eudaimonia. Michelle: And those are the friendships that take time and effort to build. They don't just happen. Mark: They require immense trust and shared experience. But this ethical framework extends beyond just our close friends. Hall uses a brilliant, simple example to show how Aristotelian ethics works in a community: the Tea Party Dilemma. Michelle: A tea party dilemma? This I have to hear. Mark: Imagine you're hosting a tea party for ten neighbors. Two are vegan. Vegan sandwiches are three times as expensive as ham sandwiches. What do you do? Michelle: Oh, that's a great, low-stakes ethical problem. Mark: A utilitarian, who wants the greatest good for the greatest number, would just buy ham sandwiches for the eight carnivores and tell the vegans to bring their own. A rigid rule-follower might have a different approach. But an Aristotelian does something else. Michelle: What's the Aristotelian solution? Mark: You deliberate. You think about the goal: a pleasant community event where everyone feels welcome. You consult with people. Maybe you ask the vegans for suggestions. You look for a creative solution. Perhaps you find a recipe for a delicious, non-dairy cake that everyone can enjoy. You find a way to accommodate everyone without breaking the bank, strengthening the bonds of the community. Michelle: So it's not about a single right answer. It's about the process of thoughtful, compassionate problem-solving that benefits the group. Mark: Exactly. It's about fostering what he called 'civic concord.' It's the recognition that your flourishing is tied to the flourishing of your community. And that's a radical idea in our hyper-individualistic world.

Michelle: This is all so much more practical than I expected from a 2,300-year-old philosophy. It’s not just abstract ideas; it’s a genuine guide to living. So when you boil it all down, what's the one thing Aristotle, through Edith Hall, wants us to take away from all this? Mark: I think it's that your life is your greatest work of art. It’s not about finding a magic bullet for happiness or following a set of divine rules. It's about the daily, deliberate practice of becoming a better person, making better choices, and building better relationships. Happiness isn't the goal you aim for. Michelle: It's the byproduct. Mark: It's the byproduct of a life well-lived. It's the feeling that comes from engaging in that project of flourishing, of actualizing your potential. The book has been praised for its accessibility, but some critics have said it turns Aristotle into a self-help guru. I think that misses the point. It's not self-help in the modern, superficial sense. It's a deep, challenging call to take responsibility for the shape and meaning of your own life. Michelle: It’s a call to be the sculptor of your own character. Mark: That's a perfect way to put it. And maybe the best summary comes from that JFK quote again. It's worth repeating: "The full use of your powers along lines of excellence in a life affording scope." That's the project. Michelle: That's a powerful thought to end on. It makes me wonder, what's one small, virtuous action you could take today? Maybe it's checking in on a friend, or tackling a task you've been avoiding, or just taking a moment to think about the 'golden mean' in some part of your life. We’d love to hear your thoughts. Mark: This is Aibrary, signing off.