The Death of Marcus Aurelius

The Death of Marcus Aurelius

Tuesday, February 25, 2020

Seneca, On Peace of Mind 6.1

Chapter 6

We ought, however, first to examine our own selves, next the business that we propose to transact, next those for whose sake or in whose company we transact it.

This would seem to be such a perfectly healthy way to proceed with any endeavor in life, laying out the proper order of concerns before undertaking any task. I ought to be working from the inside out, with my own judgments discovering meaning in my circumstances.

Let me begin by reflecting upon myself, coming to know who I am, why I am here, and what is properly within my power.

Let me then consider what it is I might do, and whether this action will increase my character or diminish it.

Let me finally examine the people I intend to do it with, and whether by our association we will help each other to become better or worse.

Then why is it that I so often do the exact opposite? I work instead from the outside in, letting the circumstances determine my judgments. I allow what other people do and say to rule over my thoughts and deeds, and so I become a slave instead of a free man. I perversely end up reversing the natural order, turning myself into an object instead of a subject.

The cart is leading the horse. It is the impression that has become dominant, and quite regularly my actions are impulsive and immediate, following from the influence of this or that passion.

I may do what other people tell me to do when I am afraid. I may try to flatter them when I am greedy. I may lash out at them when I am angry. I may run away from them when I am sad.

What I am doing is being dragged about by how I feel, and my mind, my awareness of the true and the good, has not even entered into the fray. It sits back and waits until it is too late, and then it no longer reasons but rationalizes, making excuses after the fact instead of leading the way.

A perfect example of this is when I have insisted that I love someone, but what I have called love is my own response to the perception that this person loves me. If I suspect I am no longer loved, then I am drawn to resentment. Love actually doesn’t come into it, because I am only reacting to the conditions I receive instead of giving from my own free choice. It twists something absolute into something relative.

I do this whenever I forget who I am, when I lose sight of my purpose in this life, when I confuse lesser things with greater things. 

Written in 8/2011

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