Seneca, Moral Letters 27.2

I keep crying out to myself: "Count your years, and you will be ashamed to desire and pursue the same things you desired in your boyhood days. Of this one thing make sure against your dying day—let your faults die before you die. 

 

“Away with those disordered pleasures, which must be dearly paid for; it is not only those which are to come that harm me, but also those which have come and gone. Just as crimes, even if they have not been detected when they were committed, do not allow anxiety to end with them; so with guilty pleasures, regret remains even after the pleasures are over. 

 

“They are not substantial, they are not trustworthy; even if they do not harm us, they are fleeting. Cast about rather for some good which will abide. But there can be no such good except as the soul discovers it for itself within itself. 

 

“Virtue alone affords everlasting and peace-giving joy; even if some obstacle arises, it is but like an intervening cloud, which floats beneath the sun but never prevails against it." 

—from Seneca, Moral Letters 27

 

Whatever I genuinely tell myself, I can further submit as a contribution to my fellows. On what should my thinking be focused? On that which abides, on the very foundation of any happy life, on the indomitable elements of character. 

 

For all that can be ripped from my possession, what remains completely mine? Any one of us, however varied our circumstances or preferences, is enriched by such reflection. 

 

This wonderful passage by Seneca has become one of my “go-to” points of reference. One line from the beginning, and one line from the end, are now etched into my memory, such that I appeal to them during those critical instances when I feel I am losing control of myself: 

 

Let your faults die before you die. . . . 

 

Virtue alone affords everlasting and peace-giving joy; even if some obstacle arises, it is but like an intervening cloud, which floats beneath the sun but never prevails against it. 

 

I imagine it will only be a matter of time, assuming I am given more time, before the sentences in between are also available for instant recall. Practice makes perfect. 

 

They say that youth is wasted on the young, and it is true in the sense that inexperience will lead to horrible blunders, but it is false in the sense that those horrible blunders themselves become the opportunities to grow in sobriety and wisdom. Providence and Nature never permit anything to go to waste. 

 

Accordingly, while I cannot change the mistakes of my past, this does not mean I should pretend that they didn’t happen. No, the good man owns what he did, and he fixes it to the best of his ability—this is precisely why he has become better. 

 

Shame and regret do not have to be crippling—they are transformed into something productive whenever an offense is mended, or a wrong has finally been made right. Only the person without an informed conscience arrogantly dismisses a debt. I must clean up after myself, putting some order to the mess I have made, and then the cringing and the self-deception can pass away. 

 

It was a grave mistake to permit myself to be seduced by shallow things; it is now a great victory to leave them behind. 

 

A priceless lesson is learned: when I think and act with virtue as the priority, I suddenly find myself at peace. Yes, it’s that easy. 

—Reflection written in 10/2012