Seneca, Moral Letters 31.3

Work is the sustenance of noble minds. There is, then, no reason why, in accordance with that old vow of your parents, you should pick and choose what fortune you wish should fall to your lot, or what you should pray for; besides, it is base for a man who has already travelled the whole round of highest honors to be still importuning the gods. 
 
What need is there of vows? Make yourself happy through your own efforts; you can do this, if once you comprehend that whatever is blended with virtue is good, and that whatever is joined to vice is bad. 
 
Just as nothing gleams if it has no light blended with it, and nothing is black unless it contains darkness or draws to itself something of dimness, and as nothing is hot without the aid of fire, and nothing cold without air; so it is the association of virtue and vice that makes things honorable or base. 

—from Seneca, Moral Letters 31 
 
Back in the 1980’s, our generation was already busy making fun of our parents, who had grown up in the 1950’s. We felt smugly superior by ridiculing their squeaky-clean consumer culture, and we assured ourselves that we would never be so shallow and parochial. 
 
And still, despite some accidents of fashion and a slightly different set of ideological pretensions, so many of us ended up becoming the very things we claimed to despise. Our lives continued to revolve around acquisition, and we measured our worth by standards of wealth and prestige. 
 
It made no difference if it was in the 1950’s or the 1980’s, just as it made no difference if it was in the reign of Tiberius or Nero: some will rise up to embrace their humanity, while others will allow themselves to be dragged down by avarice. With Nature having granted us the power of choice, this should come as no surprise. 
 
I do not need to rely on a certain level of conveniences, or expect a lofty set of achievements, or pray to God for the most gratifying arrangement of fortune. My main job in this life, the only one that ultimately matters, is to strive for an excellence of character. Am I being understanding, compassionate, and forgiving? There is the work of the day, and the rest is quite secondary. 
 
I may object that I need to eat, and clothe myself, and put a roof over my head, but on the inside, I know I am not talking about the necessities of life at all, just my craving for an increase of comfort. Very little is required to live, while very much is required to live well. 
 
I may want a big house, or a flashy car, or a fancy suit, and if I can manage such things in harmony with a sound conscience, there is no shame in them whatsoever. Yet once my preferences have overridden my principles, I have made myself a tool instead of a man. 
 
The Stoic Turn is indeed radical, for it challenges us to break free from an addiction to circumstances, and it demands a commitment to integrity over affectation. 
 
At the same time, it is remarkably simple, for it makes the “rules” of life as straightforward as they could ever be—where mindfulness and kindness lead the way, nothing else can ever go wrong.
 
To be a happy man is to be a good man. There is no other human measure than the contrast between virtue and vice—everything else proceeds from it. 

—Reflection written in 12/2012