If your friend had been born in Parthia, he would have begun, when a child, to bend the bow; if in Germany, he would forthwith have been brandishing his slender spear; if he had been born in the days of our forefathers, he would have learned to ride a horse and smite his enemy hand to hand. These are the occupations which the system of each race recommends to the individual—yes, prescribes for him.
To what, then, shall this friend of yours devote his attention? I say, let him learn that which is helpful against all weapons, against every kind of foe—contempt of death; because no one doubts that death has in it something that inspires terror, so that it shocks even our souls, which nature has so molded that they love their own existence; for otherwise there would be no need to prepare ourselves, and to whet our courage, to face that towards which we should move with a sort of voluntary instinct, precisely as all men tend to preserve their existence.
No man learns a thing in order that, if necessity arises, he may lie down with composure upon a bed of roses; but he steels his courage to this end—that he may not surrender his plighted faith to torture, and that, if need be, he may some day stay out his watch in the trenches, even though wounded, without even leaning on his spear; because sleep is likely to creep over men who support themselves by any prop whatsoever.
To what, then, shall this friend of yours devote his attention? I say, let him learn that which is helpful against all weapons, against every kind of foe—contempt of death; because no one doubts that death has in it something that inspires terror, so that it shocks even our souls, which nature has so molded that they love their own existence; for otherwise there would be no need to prepare ourselves, and to whet our courage, to face that towards which we should move with a sort of voluntary instinct, precisely as all men tend to preserve their existence.
No man learns a thing in order that, if necessity arises, he may lie down with composure upon a bed of roses; but he steels his courage to this end—that he may not surrender his plighted faith to torture, and that, if need be, he may some day stay out his watch in the trenches, even though wounded, without even leaning on his spear; because sleep is likely to creep over men who support themselves by any prop whatsoever.
—from Seneca, Moral Letters 36
From the moment we come into this world, people will insist on what we must do, and a big part of growing up involves realizing how little thought has gone into so many of those commands. Listen with care, yet be willing to understand before you comply.
For my generation, the default was that truckloads of money would bring success, and recreational sex would bring gratification, while hating the communists was de rigueur. A few decades later, the cash and the lust are still taken for granted, though now we are expected to say we hate the fascists.
When culture is reduced to nothing more than a blind tribal loyalty, a relativism made palatable by an obedience to fashion, then a positive identity, in harmony with Nature, is replaced by a negative reaction, a contempt for the enemy. The Parthian, the German, or the Roman will focus on fighting the other, defined not by who they are but by who they are not, all the while confusing their accidental trappings with essential values.
An early retirement from all this nonsense would be a blessing, not a curse. It’s finally the time to return back home. It isn’t about running away from the office grind to finally play some golf—it’s about restoring some sanity.
Why should I worry about fighting anyone else, about imposing my preferences on some poor fellow who has rubbed me the wrong way? I observe how much bitterness and resentment pervade public discourse, and then instead of rallying the troops for battle, it might be a better idea to tame my own anger, and to learn why self-mastery is the only mastery that counts, besides being the only mastery about which I actually have any say.
No, Lucilius’ friend does not need to teach his foes a lesson, because the real war he must wage is entirely within himself. His fears come from his own hasty judgments, and his anxieties arise from his misplaced desires. If he looks behind all his particular worries, he will discover how he must ultimately conquer his dread of dying. There will be liberation whenever we recognize how the quality of life, which is within our power, is superior to the duration of life, which is not within our power.
As much as the body may revolt against the approach of both suffering and death, the soul can temper and redirect such impulses, through an awareness that living with wisdom and love, right here and now, will vanquish any circumstances. Yes, it takes great courage, but not of the brutal or violent sort, for a commitment of will is best fortified by a peace of mind.
From the moment we come into this world, people will insist on what we must do, and a big part of growing up involves realizing how little thought has gone into so many of those commands. Listen with care, yet be willing to understand before you comply.
For my generation, the default was that truckloads of money would bring success, and recreational sex would bring gratification, while hating the communists was de rigueur. A few decades later, the cash and the lust are still taken for granted, though now we are expected to say we hate the fascists.
When culture is reduced to nothing more than a blind tribal loyalty, a relativism made palatable by an obedience to fashion, then a positive identity, in harmony with Nature, is replaced by a negative reaction, a contempt for the enemy. The Parthian, the German, or the Roman will focus on fighting the other, defined not by who they are but by who they are not, all the while confusing their accidental trappings with essential values.
An early retirement from all this nonsense would be a blessing, not a curse. It’s finally the time to return back home. It isn’t about running away from the office grind to finally play some golf—it’s about restoring some sanity.
Why should I worry about fighting anyone else, about imposing my preferences on some poor fellow who has rubbed me the wrong way? I observe how much bitterness and resentment pervade public discourse, and then instead of rallying the troops for battle, it might be a better idea to tame my own anger, and to learn why self-mastery is the only mastery that counts, besides being the only mastery about which I actually have any say.
No, Lucilius’ friend does not need to teach his foes a lesson, because the real war he must wage is entirely within himself. His fears come from his own hasty judgments, and his anxieties arise from his misplaced desires. If he looks behind all his particular worries, he will discover how he must ultimately conquer his dread of dying. There will be liberation whenever we recognize how the quality of life, which is within our power, is superior to the duration of life, which is not within our power.
As much as the body may revolt against the approach of both suffering and death, the soul can temper and redirect such impulses, through an awareness that living with wisdom and love, right here and now, will vanquish any circumstances. Yes, it takes great courage, but not of the brutal or violent sort, for a commitment of will is best fortified by a peace of mind.
Where I choose not to rely on the presence or absence of external conditions, I will no longer fret about their coming or going.
—Reflection written in 12/2012
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