Seneca on Philosophy and Friendship 10

. . . We marvel at certain animals because they can pass through fire and suffer no bodily harm; but how much more marvelous is a man who has marched forth unhurt and unscathed through fire and sword and devastation!

Do you understand now how much easier it is to conquer a whole tribe than to conquer one man? This saying of Stilpo makes common ground with Stoicism; the Stoic also can carry his goods unimpaired through cities that have been burned to ashes; for he is self-sufficient. Such are the bounds which he sets to his own happiness. . . .

—Seneca the Younger, Moral Letters to Lucilius 9, tr Gummere

I have often known that feeling of pain that seems unbearable, both in body and in mind, but mainly through the emotional suffering that comes with the Black Dog. I would stand in awe at people who seemed to walk right through similar obstacles, and I would wonder whether there was some special secret behind their fortitude.

I began to understand that some people simply had the brute strength to repress and deny, and that, with time, those forces would erupt elsewhere.

Other people numbed their pain in one form or another, though the pain was hardly dormant. Those conflicts would rest for a time, and feed slowly. It grew unseen, and came back far more powerful than ever before.

Other people have chosen to develop no conscience at all. Let them be. They already have their reward.

In other words, distracting myself with the busywork of a shallow career, or drowning myself in a bottle of whiskey, or refusing to care, isn’t going to cut it.

I have learned not to confuse either repression, or numbing, or denial with any sort of resolution. I have attempted all of them, and ended up far worse than I was before. Unfortunately, this still left me without an answer. What was the secret ingredient?

It is hardly a secret, nor is it an ingredient. It is about an attitude, a perspective about the true source of the human good within our nature. It isn’t hidden, or obscure, or reserved for the elect. It’s there for all of us.

Stilpo, like the Stoic with whom he shared a respect for self-sufficiency, saw that the things we thought mattered don’t really matter at all. I can quite easily not worry about something so terribly much if it’s something I know that I don’t require, and then I can pass through the pain with much greater ease.

My judgment will make all the difference, and it will make the difference between a pain that is manageable and a pain that will kill me. Why did I want that wife, or that job, or that reward? I thought those things were worthwhile because I thought that they would make be better and happier. If I only remember that nothing outside of myself will make me better or happier, but that only I can make myself better and happier, I’ve taken the first step.

We’ve all walked past garbage on the street. In the last few years, I find myself picking it up to rightly dispose of it. My inner hippie is showing. But I certainly see nothing valuable about it worthy to possess. I don’t want it, because I don’t need it.

Now imagine walking along, and spotting a hundred dollar bill in the grass, or even a full wallet on the sidewalk, bulging with cash. What will most of us do? We will pocket the money, because it is something we wish to possess.

Finally, imagine a situation where you don’t even care to possess the money. Will you walk past, just like you walked past the trash? You won’t even crave for something you don’t care for.

Does the Stoic, then, just move along, oblivious and without concern? No. He puts things right where they belong, and asks nothing more for himself. That is why he can be a friend. He owns himself, and is a friend because he gives of himself.

I’ve often done this poorly, but I do recall two times I managed to do it right. In college, I found a wallet below my chair in the cafeteria. I lost count at eight one hundred dollar bills. I thought of everything I could do with it. But there was also a student ID, and my conscience began to attack. I ended up taking it to the young lady’s dorm, only to find her angry with me. “When did you steal it?” It was one of those few moments I could walk away content, and realize that I had done what was right, from my own action, regardless of what she may have thought.

Years later, I hadn’t received my paycheck, and my employer just ran the paperwork again. I ended up with two paychecks, because the first had simply been caught up in the mail. Struggling against my greed, I returned the second one. This caused great administrative confusion, since we rarely assume honesty when it comes to money.

If I don’t care for the money, the profit, the position, or the glamor I see around me, I won’t bother to stoop and pick it up for myself. I will give it back to the people who deserve it, for their good or for ill, as only they can decide. I can learn to truly recognize what is mine, and what is actually worth living for.

Written 1/2005

Image: Johann Heinrich Lips (1758-1817), An Allegory of Friendship