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Tuesday, May 31, 2022

Seneca, Moral Letters 26.2


"But," you say, "it is the greatest possible disadvantage to be worn out and to die off, or rather, if I may speak literally, to melt away! For we are not suddenly smitten and laid low; we are worn away, and every day reduces our powers to a certain extent."

 

But is there any better end to it all than to glide off to one's proper haven, when Nature slips the cable? Not that there is anything painful in a shock and a sudden departure from existence; it is merely because this other way of departure is easy—a gradual withdrawal. 

 

I, at any rate, as if the test were at hand and the day were come which is to pronounce its decision concerning all the years of my life, watch over myself and commune thus with myself:

 

"The showing which we have made up to the present time, in word or deed, counts for nothing. All this is but a trifling and deceitful pledge of our spirit, and is wrapped in much charlatanism. I shall leave it to Death to determine what progress I have made. 

 

“Therefore with no faint heart I am making ready for the day when, putting aside all stage artifice and actor's rouge, I am to pass judgment upon myself—whether I am merely declaiming brave sentiments, or whether I really feel them; whether all the bold threats I have uttered against fortune are a pretense and a farce.

 

Put aside the opinion of the world; it is always wavering and always takes both sides. Put aside the studies which you have pursued throughout your life; Death will deliver the final judgment in your case. 

 

“This is what I mean: your debates and learned talks, your maxims gathered from the teachings of the wise, your cultured conversation—all these afford no proof of the real strength of your soul. Even the most timid man can deliver a bold speech. What you have done in the past will be manifest only at the time when you draw your last breath. I accept the terms; I do not shrink from the decision."

 

This is what I say to myself, but I would have you think that I have said it to you also. You are younger; but what does that matter? There is no fixed count of our years. You do not know where death awaits you; so be ready for it everywhere. 

—from Seneca, Moral Letters 26 

 

Dying may seem to be a terrible thing, yet it will only feel like a threat if I have neglected to use my time well. Dying slowly but surely may seem even worse, yet it will only trouble me if I fail to accept how there can be no comings without goings, and why Nature may well be doing us a favor by allowing us a chance to move on gradually. 

 

Where a boundary has been set, I could demand for it to be extended, or I could be inspired to make the most of what I have been given. For me, it has always highlighted the difference between being selfish and lazy or being grateful and resolute. 

 

It isn’t really within my power to determine the moment or the means of my end, though it is completely within my power to prepare myself for its coming. Indeed, that very act of preparation can become a fine opportunity for an increase of character, as a rising up to meet a challenge. 

 

While many would consider the waning years as a curse, Seneca chooses to take them as a blessing. Where a man makes the effort to observe what is coming his way, he can then learn how to strengthen himself. Where he closes his eyes to the inevitable, he stumbles around without a purpose. 

 

That powerful Latin phrase, Memento mori, “Remember that you must die”, can here present a calling to life, not a renunciation of it. In the last few years, I’ve seen the hipsters brandishing those words on their jewelry and tattoos, and I can only hope they are not abusing the expression for the sake of cynical derision, or as an excuse to sell an edgy image. 

 

Seneca reflects on how the prospect of death permits him to put his entire life into perspective, where the things that appeared so important are now revealed as being insignificant, and the things that were overlooked as incidental have now become essential. The fleeting gratifications, the groveling after wealth, and the obsession with winning the approval of others give way to a brutally honest estimation of the dignity within the soul. 

 

If I add up all the time I have devoted to jumping through hoops and putting on airs, I rightly feel ashamed. If I examine how often I have manipulated a certain impression, and how little I have attended to the substance, I am suddenly eager to make it right, before it is too late. 

 

To be sure that it will end, now makes it critical for me to get my house in order. Let me resist the illusion that I can put off becoming a decent man until later, since all I am certain of is this occasion here and now. 

 

When I foolishly assume that wisdom and virtue are only an old man’s occupation, I have forgotten how death always stands over my shoulder, and so I have delayed my happiness for far too long. 

—Reflection written in 10/2012 

IMAGE: Laszlo Mednyanszky, Old Man's Death (1890) 



1 comment:

  1. PBS's Frontline did a documentary a few years back on people who know they're dying (or "likely to die"... everyone they followed died by the end), and the difference between those who accepted it and those who were in denial until the last second was really eye opening. It seriously changed the way I think about death and how I hope to die (if I'm lucky enough to see it coming).

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