The Death of Marcus Aurelius

The Death of Marcus Aurelius

Saturday, October 3, 2020

Seneca, On Peace of Mind 17.4


Neither ought we always to keep the mind strained to the same pitch, but it ought sometimes to be relaxed by amusement.

Socrates did not blush to play with little boys, Cato used to refresh his mind with wine after he had wearied it with application to affairs of state, and Scipio would move his triumphal and soldierly limbs to the sound of music, not with a feeble and halting gait, as is the fashion nowadays, when we sway in our very walk with more than womanly weakness, but dancing as men were wont in the days of old on sportive and festal occasions, with manly bounds, thinking it no harm to be seen so doing even by their enemies.

Men's minds ought to have relaxation: they rise up better and more vigorous after rest. We must not force crops from rich fields, for an unbroken course of heavy crops will soon exhaust their fertility, and so also the liveliness of our minds will be destroyed by unceasing labor, but they will recover their strength after a short period of rest and relief: for continuous toil produces a sort of numbness and sluggishness.

Men would not be so eager for this, if play and amusement did not possess natural attractions for them, although constant indulgence in them takes away all gravity and all strength from the mind: for sleep, also, is necessary for our refreshment, yet if you prolong it for days and nights together it will become death.

Should I work harder, or should I play harder? Once again, we assume a false dichotomy here, and once again, we too often fail to consider such activities within the context of their proper ends.

Usually, when I am busy with a task, people will remind me to take a break, and yet when I am cooling off, they are telling me to put the nose back to the grindstone. I suppose the general idea is that we value productivity and efficiency above all else, shorthand for producing as little stuff as possible in order to consume as much stuff as possible, and so we need just enough leisure to inspire us to just enough labor.

The problem is that this reduces our human identity to that of little more than an economic machine, defined exclusively by external factors. And here I thought I was a homo sapiens, not a homo habilis.

Return back to the order of Nature, where happiness is not in the quantity of commodities but in the quality of character, and the picture changes. The balance between labor and rest then follows from what will best help me to live well, instead of what will make me the most profitable resource. The very measure of benefit and harm is transformed.

That same Stoic pattern expresses itself: any circumstances, and any sort of actions we choose in this life, are only as good as how fully they are in service to the good of the person.

What is this good of the person? It is hardly mysterious or elusive: let me attend to the dignity of my wisdom and virtue, and then let that inform every other aspect of my life. There I will find my happiness.

If my goal is limited to doing more just for the sake of doing more, I am caught in a frustrating, even agonizing, sort of rut. No wonder I will feel like Sisyphus.

If, on the other hand, I am doing for the sake of improving the content of my soul, I am beginning to catch a glimpse of liberation. The end is not somewhere out there, in the haze or over the horizon, but to be found right in here.

So, work or play? Yes. Both. Each will be necessary at certain times, and each will in turn invigorate the other. Each offers a means for improvement, and each will only make sense when it is aimed at a peace of mind.

At those moments when I have managed to do this right, I have also discovered something rather remarkable: I will no longer really distinguish between work and play, between effort and relaxation, because I find that I am joyful from simply doing the right things, satisfied from following nothing more than the calling of my nature.

Even the mightiest worldly achievements get tedious, and even the greatest pleasures get boring, but the fullness of my humanity is never exhausted. It can give and give of itself over and over, and it only becomes more bountiful. My awareness and love are greater than any other currency.

Written in 1/2012


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