Seneca, Moral Letters 8.5

But I must stop, and pay my customary contribution, to balance this letter. The payment shall not be made from my own property; for I am still conning Epicurus. I read today, in his works, the following sentence: 

 

"If you would enjoy real freedom, you must be the slave of Philosophy." 

 

The man who submits and surrenders himself to her is not kept waiting; he is emancipated on the spot. For the very service of Philosophy is freedom.

 

I can no longer remember where I first heard it said, but I was deeply inspired by the distinction between being free from something and being free in something. Here I had been convinced that liberty meant keeping things away from me, and it hadn’t occurred to me that liberty could be a promise of commitment. 

 

At some point, I began to think of it as the choice of which sort of person I would like to be, the one who says, “Get off my back!” or the one who says, “Let me carry you.” It is easy to reject, but it requires character to embrace. 

 

To find freedom in service and submission? Yes, it sounds like a paradox, but it all depends on how I consider my own nature, and my place within all of Nature. 

 

As a creature of reason and will, I am made to rule myself, and yet when my judgment comes to grasp the good inherent in everything around me, I cannot help but become joined and bound to the whole world. I am now free to cooperate with Nature, not fight against her, to gladly play the part to which I am called, however humble.

 

Philosophy, rightly understood as a way of living instead of an intellectual pretension, is the love of wisdom, and the true lover surrenders himself completely to his beloved. By giving of himself without condition, he is now most fully himself. 

 

The genuine philosopher becomes liberated from loss, fear, and doubt as soon as he recognizes that his human dignity does not depend on being chained to his circumstances, and that he now bears the responsibility for making something of himself. The truth will indeed set him free, because he is no longer driven by a lust for the things beneath him. 

 

I might be a slave in my body, like Epictetus, but I can still be completely emancipated in my soul, also like Epictetus. I might be locked in a prison, like Boethius, but it is philosophy that gives me wings, also like Boethius. 

 

I have often complained about how this or that person is trampling on my rights, or how much I wish to rid myself of the injustices committed against me, and yet the Stoic Turn teaches me that I really only suffer from the injustices I commit against myself, the ones I allow to enter my heart and mind. 

 

My own conscience can never be taken from me, once I have dedicated it to always acting with virtue. If I focus on what I should do, I am no longer burdened by what others may do. 

Written in 4/2012