Seneca, Moral Letters 29.2

But you answer: "Why should I spare words? They cost nothing. I cannot know whether I shall help the man to whom I give advice; but I know well that I shall help someone if I advise many. I must scatter this advice by the handful. It is impossible that one who tries often should not sometime succeed." 

 

This very thing, my dear Lucilius, is, I believe, exactly what a great-souled man ought not to do; his influence is weakened; it has too little effect upon those whom it might have set right if it had not grown so stale. The archer ought not to hit the mark only sometimes; he ought to miss it only sometimes. 

 

That which takes effect by chance is not an art. Now wisdom is an art; it should have a definite aim, choosing only those who will make progress, but withdrawing from those whom it has come to regard as hopeless—yet not abandoning them too soon, and just when the case is becoming hopeless trying drastic remedies. 

—from Seneca, Moral Letters 29 

 

Ah yes, the shotgun method: talk, talk, talk, and then maybe a word might hit someone along the way. It’s what sadly passes for education these days.  

 

The words themselves are indeed free, but it’s the thoughts behind them that should be of great price. Talk is only cheap for those who don’t seek out meaning and purpose. Prudent judgments and genuine intentions do not come easily, as they demand a focused attention to the welfare of an individual, who faces particular circumstances and has singular concerns; fuzzy platitudes and phony hugs won’t cut it. 

 

You can buy your clothes off the rack, while sound advice is made-to-measure. 

 

Think of how often people say they “love” you, and then consider how often those words actually have any significance. As Aristotle says, a man cannot have very many true friends, because sharing of himself completely is a full-time job. 

 

Or think of how frequently people invoke the name of God, and then ask yourself if their hearts are truly in it. Only the recklessly impious man dismisses the gravity of taking the Lord’s name in vain. 

 

I think of all the times I neglected to take proper aim, and so I ended up doing more harm than good. I must always ask myself how my actions will specifically help someone to help himself, or if they are only a way for me to appear busy and important. I need to do this each and every time, just as the marksman must zero in on his target each and every time. 

 

I often hear it said how important it is to “let go” of troublesome people, or to “walk away” from those who won’t appreciate you, but I am careful not to take this as an outright rejection of any human being. We are all members of a family, through thick and thin, and no one is ever disposable. Although there will be times when it is wise to keep my distance, I should be ever watchful for the chance to heal any separation. 

 

It isn’t love if I’m not willing to either draw the line or go out on a ledge for my brother, depending upon where he’s at right now. 

—Reflection written in 11/2012