Seneca, Moral Letters 9.13

You may say: "What then? If yonder man, rich by base means, and yonder man, lord of many but slave of more, shall call themselves happy, will their own opinion make them happy?" 

 

It matters not what one says, but what one feels; also, not how one feels on one particular day, but how one feels at all times. 

 

There is no reason, however, why you should fear that this great privilege will fall into unworthy hands; only the wise man is pleased with his own. Folly is ever troubled with weariness of itself. Farewell.

 

I regularly notice certain sorts of people who like to insist upon themselves, drawing our attention to how completely happy they are. Since I know how much I struggle, I am tempted to feel both jealous and resentful. Since I wonder if I’m getting it right, I am tempted to imitate their confidence. Since I lack the worldly successes they revere, I am tempted to pay more attention to such external trappings. 

 

My worry, of course, is entirely of my own making, and I should attend to the business of improving myself, instead of envying anyone else. If they are truly content, I should feel glad for them, but if they are simply playing a game, I should want no part in it. 

 

Happiness is not in what we might say, or in the image we are able to present. Happiness is not in what we might possess, or in the number of our followers. Happiness is rather measured by the peace within our minds and hearts, and that will only follow from a life lived with understanding and love. 

 

If he gains his riches by treading on his neighbors, or if she elevates herself by pandering to others, I am right to suspect that something is amiss. I do not know what is going on in their deepest thoughts and feelings, but I do know that their words and deeds don’t appear to match. 

 

Talk, after all, is fairly cheap when it is separated from sincere character. I know from my own failures that I am likely to shout all the louder as I grow more anxious and uncertain; it is very easy to protest too much. 

 

The words won’t cut it, and the quick bursts of elation won’t cut it. True happiness becomes like a constant companion to the soul, present regardless of what is said, and it is something that stands firm through whatever may come or go. 

 

In this sense, it has much in common with being a true friend. 

 

I do not need to fret that the selfish or grasping people will somehow run away with all the happiness. What they think and do has no power to affect what I think and do, and they are already far too busy with their other frustrations and longings. 

Written in 5/2012