Speak as boldly with him as with yourself. As to yourself, although you should live in such a way that you trust your own self with nothing which you could not entrust even to your enemy, yet, since certain matters occur which convention keeps secret, you should share with a friend at least all your worries and reflections.
Regard him as loyal, and you will make him loyal. Some, for example, fearing to be deceived, have taught men to deceive; by their suspicions they have given their friend the right to do wrong. Why need I keep back any words in the presence of my friend? Why should I not regard myself as alone when in his company?
This is another one of those wonderful passages that taught me something more every time I returned to it.
The first time, I nodded in agreement with the general principle, recognizing that friendship can only come from unconditional honesty, trust, and self-giving.
If a friend is truly a second self, then why should I not share with him everything I would share with myself? I must be careful, of course, to accept both my own limitations as well as his, but what little I am capable of offering must be provided without hesitation.
The second time, I wondered how Seneca managed to describe my own particular situation so accurately.
Whenever such intimate union was lacking, I always met with failure and disappointment, but whenever a bond of conviction was present, I was able to act with confidence. The greater my own love, the greater an opportunity I then give another to love in return. Where I hesitate and require conditions, we both grow weaker.
The third time, I realized how I had no one but myself to blame for following fake friends, and for actually encouraging them to be fake.
It is easy for me to blame others for the pain of failed companionship, to play the part of the victim, yet my suffering arose from my own hasty commitments, and I have foolishly given another an even greater opportunity to act poorly when I offer a misguided trust.
Perhaps my own experience has been especially unfortunate, or perhaps, as is more likely, I chose to be drawn to all the wrong people, but I find it terribly naïve to simply assume that people have my best interests at heart.
There are indeed some who will act with genuine concern, and they are the ones I should carefully seek out. Their seeming rarity makes them appear all the more precious.
There are also many, however, who are unwilling or incapable of loving others for their own sake, and I am doing neither myself nor them any favors if I insist upon friendship where none can be present.
Let me treat all people with the justice they rightly deserve, yet I should also choose my friends far more wisely than I have in the past. The words “I love you” are empty without a trust won by deeds. Some of us have had to learn that the hard way.
Written in 2/2012
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