Seneca, Moral Letters 13.1

Letter 13: On groundless fears

I know that you have plenty of spirit; for even before you began to equip yourself with maxims which were wholesome and potent to overcome obstacles, you were taking pride in your contest with Fortune; and this is all the more true, now that you have grappled with Fortune and tested your powers. 

 

For our powers can never inspire in us implicit faith in ourselves except when many difficulties have confronted us on this side and on that, and have occasionally even come to close quarters with us. It is only in this way that the true spirit can be tested—the spirit that will never consent to come under the jurisdiction of things external to ourselves.

 

It is one thing to understand what is right, and then another to have the courage to do it. Many of my own mistakes came from a divide between conception and completion, where my will needed to catch up to my intellect. Wisdom is powerless without the stout companionship of fortitude. 

 

Seneca clearly admired and had high hopes for Lucilius, not only because he could think, but also because he was determined. I recall it still being called “moxie” when I was younger, the fire and the spunk that makes it possible to stand up for what is right. 

 

I rarely managed to find my moxie when people just told me what to do, even as I was far more successful when I was offered some sincere encouragement. 

 

“Get over it!” has far less effect than “I know you can do this!” 

 

The helpful way that Seneca tried to inspire Lucilius reminds me of the decent people who always had my back. 

 

And as painful as it might be, facing some serious hardship can be the best way to bring out that moxie. The obstacle becomes the opportunity, the means by which we can build the habits of character. The body becomes stronger through rigorous exercise, and the virtues increase through the struggle against circumstances. 

 

It took me some time to realize that until I had been tried, my principles were just words. Until I had been challenged, I had not yet proven myself. Until I had lost something I believed was important, I wouldn’t learn what was truly important. 

 

We tend to love Fortune when she smiles on us, and we tend to hate her when she bites, and that is a terrible mistake. The lesson, whatever may come or go, is that the very coming and going does not need to be the master. I am capable of being my own master, let the chips fall where they may.

 

No, I cannot conform the world to my image, but that isn’t my job; my job is to nurture myself in harmony with Nature. Facing adversity has taught me this, and my troubles have kindled within me a spark of bravery. Let me find my moxie by following along with Lucilius. 

Written in 6/2012