Seneca, On Peace of Mind 1.3

It is of no use for you to tell me that all virtues are weakly at the outset, and that they acquire strength and solidity by time, for I am well aware that even those that do but help our outward show, such as grandeur, a reputation for eloquence, and everything that appeals to others, gain power by time. Both those that afford us real strength and those that do but trick us out in a more attractive form, require long years before they gradually are adapted to us by time.

This is all taking me far too long!

Just learning to appear good requires years of practice, and actually learning to be good seems even further down the road. How can I ever expect to get there? I’ll have worked myself up for virtue, getting closer at a snail’s pace, but then I’ll be dead, and then it will hardly matter.

In the meantime, wouldn’t it be easier to acquire, consume, and find gratification in what I desire, and swallow my conscience just long enough? Like the hiccups, won’t my moral scruples eventually just go away? Lying, cheating, and stealing are probably easier to get used to than the burden of building character.

Put on a happy face. Cry only when you are alone. Suck it up, then go out and continue the charade. Perhaps I can manage that. They tell me that this is strength.

After all, didn’t they spend all of those years teaching me to conform, to follow the rules, to color inside of the lines? Primary school taught me to obey. Secondary school taught me to equate that obedience with my own success. College taught me to make it all look good, by smiling and mouthing the right words.

I watched as others learned the outward show, but for some reason I couldn’t follow along. I had a very brief moment where players took me under their wings, thinking they could make me a copy of themselves. I had a very brief moment where a girl paid attention to me, quite classy on the outside but also rather trashy on the inside. I lost them as soon as I became inconvenient.

The Roman norms, the ones Serenus must have faced, were obviously different in form, while surely quite the same in content. Places change, times change, and customs change, but the weakness of human nature always remains the same.

I had been raised differently than most. I wanted to do right, wherever I was, not become rich or famous, regardless of who had to pay. I saw that my goals did not conform to what was expected of me. I knew I had to choose one way or another, to follow my own path or that of another.

Yet becoming a good man would take me so much time. Wouldn’t pretending to be a good man take far less time?

This is all taking me far too long! 

Written in 4/2011