Seneca, Moral Letters 20.4

"But what," you say, "will become of my crowded household without a household income?" 

 

If you stop supporting that crowd, it will support itself; or perhaps you will learn by the bounty of poverty what you cannot learn by your own bounty. Poverty will keep for you your true and tried friends; you will be rid of the men who were not seeking you for yourself, but for something which you have. 

 

Is it not true, however, that you should love poverty, if only for this single reason—that it will show you those by whom you are loved? O when will that time come, when no one shall tell lies to compliment you!

 

Accordingly, let your thoughts, your efforts, your desires, help to make you content with your own self and with the goods that spring from yourself; and commit all your other prayers to God's keeping! 

 

What happiness could come closer home to you? Bring yourself down to humble conditions, from which you cannot be ejected; and in order that you may do so with greater alacrity, the contribution contained in this letter shall refer to that subject; I shall bestow it upon you forthwith. 

—from Seneca, Moral Letters 20

 

But what will happen to me if I no longer dedicate so much of my time and effort to making money? The first lesson I might learn is that I never really needed to have so many “things” to begin with. The second lesson I might learn is how most of my so-called friends were actually far more interested in those “things” than they were interested in me. 

 

Again, the careful possession and the prudent use of money is not a problem, but the love of money for the sake of vanity and luxury is most certainly a problem. If I am honest with myself, I know exactly where that itch is coming from, and as much as I might say that I can take it or leave it, I grow focused on a lust for the taking and a dread of the leaving. 

 

I cannot be a consistent man if I play such games, and I cannot be a happy man if I am torn between a loyalty to different masters. 

 

If I genuinely wish to be most fully myself, then let me rely on what is properly my own. I know that I am always able to act with thoughtfulness and compassion, whatever anyone else chooses to do, and I know that Providence will always provide me with the opportunities that I need, however unexpected or difficult they may at first appear. 

 

If I no longer live in an extravagant country villa, what am I afraid of losing? The shifty companions and the obsequious followers will skitter away, and my body will no longer feel as pampered, but at the same time I can also gain a confidence in my own convictions, and my soul will finally be able to breathe freely. 

 

If my children no longer attend the most expensive private schools, what prospects remain open to them? The option to live with integrity and a clear conscience, to grow into adults who can walk the walk instead of just talking the talk. 

—Reflection written in 9/2012