Seneca, Moral Letters 20.2

"But," you reply, "who can maintain this standard?" 

 

Very few, to be sure; but there are some. It is indeed a hard undertaking, and I do not say that the philosopher can always keep the same pace. But he can always travel the same path.

 

Observe yourself, then, and see whether your dress and your house are inconsistent, whether you treat yourself lavishly and your family meanly, whether you eat frugal dinners and yet build luxurious houses. 

 

You should lay hold, once for all, upon a single norm to live by, and should regulate your whole life according to this norm. Some men restrict themselves at home, but strut with swelling port before the public; such discordance is a fault, and it indicates a wavering mind which cannot yet keep its balance.

 

And I can tell you, further, whence arise this unsteadiness and disagreement of action and purpose; it is because no man resolves upon what he wishes, and, even if he has done so, he does not persist in it, but jumps the track; not only does he change, but he returns and slips back to the conduct which he has abandoned and abjured.

 —from Seneca, Moral Letters 20

 

If I am allowing myself to be swept up in melancholy and pessimism, I may insist that people are seriously hampered at being good, or that they even lack the power to become any better. Heaven knows, I hardly need to look very far to find countless examples of humanity falling to shameful lows. What can make it more frustrating is when I see those who would consider themselves to be the best doing their absolute worst. 

 

All this tells me, however, is how quickly I am willing to avoid what I could do at the expense of complaining about what others might do. If I assume that our moral condition is hopelessly corrupt, notice how this both feeds into my resentments and gives me an excuse to behave with unbridled wickedness. I see that a good life requires a serious investment on my part, one that engages all of my being, and so I wiggle my way out of my accountability, preferring to be led instead of leading.

 

Give a man free will, and it is to be expected that he will make mistakes, sometimes on a colossal scale. Yet that same free will offers him the capacity to learn from his blunders, and to always improve himself, one step at a time. The act of human perfection is a process; however difficult it may seem, only the weakness of our own thinking can make it impossible. 

 

There are far more decent people out there than I realize, those deeply taking to heart the task of growing in wisdom and virtue. I may not notice them a first, since they are not the sort of people who are seeking out an audience. 

 

To join them on their journey, I must commit to the exercise of constancy, of being the same person in public and in private, of sticking to the same core values of understanding and of love, of facing every hardship, great or small, with the same joyful courage. It is not a cold and begrudging toughness, but a compassionate willingness to give of oneself without hesitation. An openness to rising above the circumstances provides the context. 

 

Am I generous here, but a miser there? Am I listening to some, while cutting off others? Am I being moderate only where it requires no sacrifice? Am I picking and choosing my conditions for acting with honesty and generosity, though there should be no conditions attached at all? 

 

I become fractured, a man who shifts back and forth between different preferences and personalities, when I am not aware of my essential nature to begin with, when I do not follow through on the principles presented by my conscience. I am flighty because I am compartmentalizing my life, failing to deliberately dedicate myself to my virtues above all else. It isn’t that I can’t do, it is only that I stubbornly won’t do it. 

—Reflection written in 9/2012

IMAGE: Abraham Janssens the Elder, Constancy (c. 1610)