Seneca, Moral Letters 22.1

Letter 22: On the futility of half-way measures

 

You understand by this time that you must withdraw yourself from those showy and depraved pursuits; but you still wish to know how this may be accomplished. 

 

There are certain things which can be pointed out only by someone who is present. The physician cannot prescribe by letter the proper time for eating or bathing; he must feel the pulse. There is an old adage about gladiators—that they plan their fight in the ring; as they intently watch, something in the adversary's glance, some movement of his hand, even some slight bending of his body, gives a warning.

 

We can formulate general rules and commit them to writing, as to what is usually done, or ought to be done; such advice may be given, not only to our absent friends, but also to succeeding generations. 

 

In regard, however, to that second question—when or how your plan is to be carried out—no one will advise at long range; we must take counsel in the presence of the actual situation. You must be not only present in the body, but watchful in mind, if you would avail yourself of the fleeting opportunity. 

 

Accordingly, look about you for the opportunity; if you see it, grasp it, and with all your energy and with all your strength devote yourself to this task—to rid yourself of those business duties. 

—from Seneca, Moral Letters 22

 

There is the thinking, and then there is the doing, and while it might seem that the former should flow effortlessly into the latter, it often feels as if something else is standing in the way. 

 

Now is the hindrance in the difficulty of the act itself, or does it arise from my own hesitation? Perhaps it would be more precise to ask what it is within my estimation about the circumstances that can make me question my commitment. 

 

In order to avoid some gaping divide between theory and practice, where I will just dig myself deeper into uncertainty and doubt, I must remember that understanding proceeds in discrete stages. 

 

To reflect on the general principles is like drawing the blueprints, and yet I will still be battered by the wind and the rain if I don’t build the actual house. The plans may well have been sound, and there is no use in blaming them if I didn’t follow through by picking up my tools. 

 

And inevitably, I will run into a whole new set of problems as I begin to assemble the structure. Again, these obstacles do not negate the value of the earlier contemplation, and they are simply revealing that there was still something more to be discovered about the whole in the details of the parts. The universal is not in conflict with the particulars, but it is rather fleshed out by those particulars. 

 

So when I get frustrated by falling short of my goals, tossing out the ideals is a sign that I have failed to grasp how the learning needs to continue as the efforts unfold. What use is there in raising up the spoon, when I refuse to open my mouth? What point is there to the wind-up without the pitch? All the steps are integral to the whole movement. 

 

A half measure is, therefore, both an incomplete thought from the one end, and an incomplete deed from the other. 

 

Nor should I be surprised if the mode of experience changes as the action moves ahead. Why can’t I predict all the peculiarities well in advance? Precisely because a potentiality can only become an actuality in the due course of time. I see that I ought to act with justice, for example, in a broad manner, and then I find a different range of conditions, each and every day, where I am called to fit the curious pieces together. 

 

As with all things Stoic, that is not a terrible burden, but a wonderful opportunity. Welcome, young man, to the capricious joys of life—embrace them instead of resenting them! 

 

The years and years of medical school alone do not magically produce a brilliant doctor: he becomes more adept by diagnosing and treating each new patient. 

 

The training and the exercises alone do not make for a victorious gladiator: he develops the insight on when to block and when to strike during the very moments he is in the heat of combat. 

 

Hence, I cannot expect my teacher to give me everything I need to know about living well, since so many of these aspects will only become clear as I follow my own unique path. I now perceive why there comes a point when a mentor smiles and says, “You’re going to have to work those bits out for yourself.” He isn’t dodging; he’s gently sending me on my way. 

 

Seneca can encourage Lucilius to follow virtue and to flee from vice, and he can further show him why a life ruled by money and fame can never bring him happiness. What Seneca cannot do, however, is to decide or to act for Lucilius; Lucilius is challenged to take the plunge in a certain way and at a certain time that he judges the best. 

—Reflection written in 9/2012