Letter 34: On a promising pupil
I grow in spirit and leap for joy and shake off my years and my blood runs warm again, whenever I understand, from your actions and your letters, how far you have outdone yourself; for as to the ordinary man, you left him in the rear long ago.
If the farmer is pleased when his tree develops so that it bears fruit, if the shepherd takes pleasure in the increase of his flocks, if every man regards his pupil as though he discerned in him his own early manhood—what, then, do you think are the feelings of those who have trained a mind and molded a young idea, when they see it suddenly grown to maturity?
I claim you for myself; you are my handiwork. When I saw your abilities, I laid my hand upon you, I exhorted you, I applied the goad and did not permit you to march lazily, but roused you continually.
And now I do the same; but by this time, I am cheering on one who is in the race and so in turn cheers me on.
I grow in spirit and leap for joy and shake off my years and my blood runs warm again, whenever I understand, from your actions and your letters, how far you have outdone yourself; for as to the ordinary man, you left him in the rear long ago.
If the farmer is pleased when his tree develops so that it bears fruit, if the shepherd takes pleasure in the increase of his flocks, if every man regards his pupil as though he discerned in him his own early manhood—what, then, do you think are the feelings of those who have trained a mind and molded a young idea, when they see it suddenly grown to maturity?
I claim you for myself; you are my handiwork. When I saw your abilities, I laid my hand upon you, I exhorted you, I applied the goad and did not permit you to march lazily, but roused you continually.
And now I do the same; but by this time, I am cheering on one who is in the race and so in turn cheers me on.
—from Seneca, Moral Letters 34
It is so easy to become cynical about friendship when I see so much manipulation and betrayal going around. Why be kind to a fellow who is probably just taking advantage of me? Why listen to the teacher whose only interest is his next promotion? Why give her my heart if she will eventually toss it aside for a better prospect?
I am making two critical mistakes here:
First, people are just as capable of good as they are of evil, and I shouldn’t let my own disappointment with a scoundrel color my appreciation for a gentleman. Encourage them to do better instead of rejecting them for doing worse. How am I any better than what I condemn if I merely run away?
Second, I am far too worried about what other people might possibly do to me, when my primary concern should be about what I am absolutely certain I can do myself. Life is a principle of action, and human life is a principle of rational action—there is the proper focus of my attention, the perfection of my own thoughts and deeds.
The Stoic Turn challenges the assumption that life is about circumstances, and leads to the awareness that happiness is in the content of character. In turn, it must forever reshape our conception of friendship, where friends are valued because we wish to give to them, not because we need to receive from them.
This is why I am so moved by Seneca’s brief letter, which is a simple expression of joy at the blossoming of another. The old man is happy from watching the young man grow, not in body, wealth, or fame, but in wisdom and virtue. Though Seneca is superior in experience and insight, he and Lucilius are becoming friends, the good of the one reflected in the good of the other.
So whenever I feel discouraged by those who abuse relationships, I look to an example like this one to set me straight about how it can be done right. Even as wickedness likes to be louder, decency runs far deeper.
Seneca has clearly put much effort into cultivating his pupil, and yet I notice he isn’t demanding any gratitude in return. Don’t we all expect rewards? Any problems with a balance sheet are resolved with the recognition that the good act is itself the reward, and then requires nothing further.
The seeming conflict between selflessness and selfishness disappears if only I perceive the source of my responsibility.
I realize how many things in life change so fundamentally when I seek my happiness within my virtues. No, I take that back—everything changes from the usual drudgery, finally allowing me to face those doubts and fears with a bit of dignity.
It is so easy to become cynical about friendship when I see so much manipulation and betrayal going around. Why be kind to a fellow who is probably just taking advantage of me? Why listen to the teacher whose only interest is his next promotion? Why give her my heart if she will eventually toss it aside for a better prospect?
I am making two critical mistakes here:
First, people are just as capable of good as they are of evil, and I shouldn’t let my own disappointment with a scoundrel color my appreciation for a gentleman. Encourage them to do better instead of rejecting them for doing worse. How am I any better than what I condemn if I merely run away?
Second, I am far too worried about what other people might possibly do to me, when my primary concern should be about what I am absolutely certain I can do myself. Life is a principle of action, and human life is a principle of rational action—there is the proper focus of my attention, the perfection of my own thoughts and deeds.
The Stoic Turn challenges the assumption that life is about circumstances, and leads to the awareness that happiness is in the content of character. In turn, it must forever reshape our conception of friendship, where friends are valued because we wish to give to them, not because we need to receive from them.
This is why I am so moved by Seneca’s brief letter, which is a simple expression of joy at the blossoming of another. The old man is happy from watching the young man grow, not in body, wealth, or fame, but in wisdom and virtue. Though Seneca is superior in experience and insight, he and Lucilius are becoming friends, the good of the one reflected in the good of the other.
So whenever I feel discouraged by those who abuse relationships, I look to an example like this one to set me straight about how it can be done right. Even as wickedness likes to be louder, decency runs far deeper.
Seneca has clearly put much effort into cultivating his pupil, and yet I notice he isn’t demanding any gratitude in return. Don’t we all expect rewards? Any problems with a balance sheet are resolved with the recognition that the good act is itself the reward, and then requires nothing further.
The seeming conflict between selflessness and selfishness disappears if only I perceive the source of my responsibility.
I realize how many things in life change so fundamentally when I seek my happiness within my virtues. No, I take that back—everything changes from the usual drudgery, finally allowing me to face those doubts and fears with a bit of dignity.
—Reflection written in 12/2012
IMAGE: Vincent van Gogh, Flowering Orchard (1888)
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