Seneca, Moral Letters 28.3

That trouble once removed, all change of scene will become pleasant; though you may be driven to the uttermost ends of the earth, in whatever corner of a savage land you may find yourself, that place, however forbidding, will be to you a hospitable abode. 

 

The person you are matters more than the place to which you go; for that reason we should not make the mind a bondsman to any one place. Live in this belief: "I am not born for any one corner of the Universe; this whole world is my country."

 

If you saw this fact clearly, you would not be surprised at getting no benefit from the fresh scenes to which you roam each time through weariness of the old scenes. For the first would have pleased you in each case, had you believed it wholly yours. 

 

As it is, however, you are not journeying; you are drifting and being driven, only exchanging one place for another, although that which you seek – to live well – is found everywhere. 

—from Seneca, Moral Letters 28 

 

When I follow the herd, and I confuse what is within my power with what is outside my power, I will obsess about setting up the world according to my whims. If one of my schemes fails, I chase after another, and then another, all the time puzzled over why I remain dissatisfied.

 

I have overlooked what is so blatantly obvious: the place I happen to be in does not determine the state I can choose to live in. While I am waiting for all the circumstances to align perfectly, I should instead be trying to order my thinking harmoniously. 

If I can manage that, it won’t really matter where I am, or who I must live with, as my estimation can make it possible to find the good in every situation. 

 

If I catch myself complaining how there is no apparent good in it, the problem is in my discernment. When, pray tell, is it ever impossible to act with understanding and love? The greater the obstacle, the greater the reward, if only I am clear on the proper measure. 

 

The Stoics encourage the liberty of pursuing our preferences, but only ask that we consider how they must relate to our deeper sense of moral purpose. I am called to ask how the experience can better me, not whether the experience happens to be the most convenient. 

 

I may say, “I am travelling to find myself.”

 

It would be better to say, “I am finding myself as I travel.”

 

The distinction is not nitpicking; I should also be willing to say, “I am finding myself as I remain in this one place.”

 

As with all formation of character, this develops with time. For starters, it is a victory to even be aware of the challenge, and thereby gradually pick away at the chains that enslave me to Fortune. A home is where I decide to make something of it. 

—Reflection written in 11/2012