Do you not suppose that virtue will be as efficacious as excessive fear?
No man can have a peaceful life who thinks too much about lengthening it, or believes that living through many consulships is a great blessing.
Rehearse this thought every day, that you may be able to depart from life contentedly; for many men clutch and cling to life, even as those who are carried down a rushing stream clutch and cling to briars and sharp rocks.
Most men ebb and flow in wretchedness between the fear of death and the hardships of life; they are unwilling to live, and yet they do not know how to die. For this reason, make life as a whole agreeable to yourself by banishing all worry about it.
No good thing renders its possessor happy, unless his mind is reconciled to the possibility of loss; nothing, however, is lost with less discomfort than that which, when lost, cannot be missed.
I can dwell upon my anxiety about conditions, or I can embrace that all I need to concern myself with is the pursuit of good thoughts and good deeds. What happens to me is beyond my power, while what I do with myself is within my power.
My odd work and my odd social circles often have me crossing paths with what a friend of mine calls “the bitten and bitter old men”, fellows who have seen so much sadness that they have sadly chosen to hate much. They still survive, often to incredibly old ages, and yet they are filled with disappointment and resentment.
I am not unsympathetic to their plight, since I was well on my way to becoming a much younger version of them back in my twenties. It has only been the example of Stoicism that manages to temper my own fear and anger.
There is getting old, and then there is getting wise, and they are not nearly the same thing. Once I worry about adding another day, or year, or decade to my life, I am taking my attention away from what actually matters, the finding of peace in living this very moment well. If I care more for continuing to exist, I will care less for immediate acts of understanding and love.
I sometimes worry that I am a hopeless case, weighed down by too many failures, and that when I die there will be nothing to show for it. I suppose, however, that whenever I think this way, I do not rightly grasp what a good life even is, and whether anything needs to be “shown” for it at all.
If I look around me, I will observe that many, far too many, people are horrified by death on the one hand, but also tired of their sufferings on the other. They don’t look all that happy hunched in their cubicles, or driving in traffic, or trying to pay off their many debts. They are hating the living, while not quite willing to go about the dying.
Others who have seen beneath the veil may try to advise them to go in a completely different direction, that fighting against fortune is always a losing cause. But most of us are too scared to listen to the words of a Marcus Aurelius or a Lao Tzu.
There are literally no circumstances that I will not eventually lose, and so I must be willing to both take them and leave them when the time comes. That time could be years down the road, or it could be right now. The activity of virtue, while it is still possible for me, gives meaning and purpose to what is both given and to what is taken away.
No need to fear a loss of fortune, only a surrender of character. In a weird and wonderful way, death is least of all to be feared, since I will no longer be present to suffer from it.
No man can have a peaceful life who thinks too much about lengthening it, or believes that living through many consulships is a great blessing.
Rehearse this thought every day, that you may be able to depart from life contentedly; for many men clutch and cling to life, even as those who are carried down a rushing stream clutch and cling to briars and sharp rocks.
Most men ebb and flow in wretchedness between the fear of death and the hardships of life; they are unwilling to live, and yet they do not know how to die. For this reason, make life as a whole agreeable to yourself by banishing all worry about it.
No good thing renders its possessor happy, unless his mind is reconciled to the possibility of loss; nothing, however, is lost with less discomfort than that which, when lost, cannot be missed.
I can dwell upon my anxiety about conditions, or I can embrace that all I need to concern myself with is the pursuit of good thoughts and good deeds. What happens to me is beyond my power, while what I do with myself is within my power.
My odd work and my odd social circles often have me crossing paths with what a friend of mine calls “the bitten and bitter old men”, fellows who have seen so much sadness that they have sadly chosen to hate much. They still survive, often to incredibly old ages, and yet they are filled with disappointment and resentment.
I am not unsympathetic to their plight, since I was well on my way to becoming a much younger version of them back in my twenties. It has only been the example of Stoicism that manages to temper my own fear and anger.
There is getting old, and then there is getting wise, and they are not nearly the same thing. Once I worry about adding another day, or year, or decade to my life, I am taking my attention away from what actually matters, the finding of peace in living this very moment well. If I care more for continuing to exist, I will care less for immediate acts of understanding and love.
I sometimes worry that I am a hopeless case, weighed down by too many failures, and that when I die there will be nothing to show for it. I suppose, however, that whenever I think this way, I do not rightly grasp what a good life even is, and whether anything needs to be “shown” for it at all.
If I look around me, I will observe that many, far too many, people are horrified by death on the one hand, but also tired of their sufferings on the other. They don’t look all that happy hunched in their cubicles, or driving in traffic, or trying to pay off their many debts. They are hating the living, while not quite willing to go about the dying.
Others who have seen beneath the veil may try to advise them to go in a completely different direction, that fighting against fortune is always a losing cause. But most of us are too scared to listen to the words of a Marcus Aurelius or a Lao Tzu.
There are literally no circumstances that I will not eventually lose, and so I must be willing to both take them and leave them when the time comes. That time could be years down the road, or it could be right now. The activity of virtue, while it is still possible for me, gives meaning and purpose to what is both given and to what is taken away.
No need to fear a loss of fortune, only a surrender of character. In a weird and wonderful way, death is least of all to be feared, since I will no longer be present to suffer from it.
Written in 3/2012
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