Seneca, Moral Letters 9.6

You may retort: "We are not now discussing the question whether friendship is to be cultivated for its own sake."

 

On the contrary, nothing more urgently requires demonstration; for if friendship is to be sought for its own sake, he may seek it who is self-sufficient. 

 

"How, then," you ask, "does he seek it?" 

 

Precisely as he seeks an object of great beauty, not attracted to it by desire for gain, nor yet frightened by the instability of Fortune. One who seeks friendship for favorable occasions, strips it of all its nobility.

 

"The wise man is self-sufficient." This phrase, my dear Lucilius, is incorrectly explained by many; for they withdraw the wise man from the world, and force him to dwell within his own skin. 

 

But we must mark with care what this sentence signifies and how far it applies; the wise man is sufficient unto himself for a happy existence, but not for mere existence. For he needs many helps towards mere existence; but for a happy existence he needs only a sound and upright soul, one that despises Fortune.

 

Yes, I often found it annoying when people seemed to be changing the subject, drifting from the topic at hand, and then I started to find myself doing the exact same thing, not because I wanted to avoid a certain truth, but precisely because making sense of one truth required first making sense of another. 

 

I can hardly know if I need to have friends, until I also know if I need anything external to myself to be happy. As is usually the case, the distinction in the answer will be subtle but critical. 

 

It is how I will choose to think and to live that determines whether I am happy or miserable, and yet at the same it is quite impossible for me to exist in a vacuum. There is what I do, what comes from the inside, and then there is what is done to me, what comes from the outside; the former is what perfects my nature, even as it works with and through the occasions of the latter. 

 

The Thomist in me will think of this in terms of the difference between efficient and material causes, between the agent and the opportunity, but that can be quite an obscure reference for many.

 

Imagine, perhaps, a composer, who creates great works of music in his own mind, and then he plays them on an instrument, or conducts them for an orchestra. 

 

Does he need to have his music played in this way in order to be an artist? No, since his art is in his soul. 

 

Does he desperately wish to have his music played in this way in order to be an artist? Yes, since it is right and proper to express that beauty to others, to share it with the world.

 

So, in a certain sense, it is also with happiness and friendship. I would prefer to sing with companions than to hum a tune in my head; I would prefer to reach out to loved ones than to be locked away. Others don’t make me happy, though anyone and everyone gives me a chance to exercise my happiness. 

 

I am tempted to continue with the analogy further, to suggest that the artist works with others, never over them or against them, but I shouldn’t push my luck. 

 

I cannot survive for a moment without all sorts of outside support, such as the sun on my face, the food in my belly, or the air that I breathe. Beyond that, however, is something that only I can do for myself, to order my life according to wisdom and virtue. 

Written in 5/2012