In death there is nothing harmful; for there must exist something to which it is harmful.
And yet, if you are possessed by so great a craving for a longer life, reflect that none of the objects which vanish from our gaze and are reabsorbed into the world of things, from which they have come forth and are soon to come forth again, is annihilated; they merely end their course and do not perish.
And death, which we fear and shrink from, merely interrupts life, but does not steal it away; the time will return when we shall be restored to the light of day; and many men would object to this, were they not brought back in forgetfulness of the past.
And yet, if you are possessed by so great a craving for a longer life, reflect that none of the objects which vanish from our gaze and are reabsorbed into the world of things, from which they have come forth and are soon to come forth again, is annihilated; they merely end their course and do not perish.
And death, which we fear and shrink from, merely interrupts life, but does not steal it away; the time will return when we shall be restored to the light of day; and many men would object to this, were they not brought back in forgetfulness of the past.
—from Seneca, Moral Letters 36
Once again, the Stoics consider the topic of our mortality not because they are bleak and forlorn, but because death offers an ideal means to isolate what is most precious in life. They return to it repeatedly as the apex of all our fears, only to be overcome by the embrace of our virtues. As I realize I cannot desperately continue holding on to things, I am then free to finally live with dignity and conviction.
If I merely cling to survival, then dying will appear like an evil to me, just as if I simply pursue pleasures, their fickle nature will continually torment me. If, however, I aim to live each moment I am given with understanding and goodwill, then extinction, or any sort of pain, will pose no threat.
Seneca here refers to an argument, also employed by other philosophers, on how there can be no further loss where there is nothing left to lose. I may say I am terrified of death, yet if death is the complete cessation of existence, there will clearly no longer be any “self” present to experience the suffering. Absence of everything means the end of worries.
If I reply that what I fear is the agony that may well come over me as I am dying, then that remains a situation, however challenging, where I can continue to act with integrity and decency. One might even observe, without wishing to seem morbid, how all of life, and all forms of pain, are a sort of continual passing. Once I view my purpose rightly, I will grasp why a greater trial is just a greater opportunity to do my best work. By nature, every act is fulfilled in its completion
It is foolish, however, for me to think that anything ever ceases to be absolutely, since the end of one state is just the beginning of another. Many of us learn about the laws of conservation for matter and energy in our physics classes, though we rarely dare to consider how this applies to our own living and dying. What I am calling destruction turns out to be a transformation, and therefore may be considered a conversion instead of a termination.
I will not be so vain as to insist on what will become of “me” after I die, and I am happy to leave the matter in the hands of Providence. Yet my reason can at least tell me why something cannot come from nothing, and in turn why something cannot vanish into nothing. However radical that transition may be, whatever disguise the old matter may assume, what I am now must pass on to another purpose. It all comes around again.
Once again, the Stoics consider the topic of our mortality not because they are bleak and forlorn, but because death offers an ideal means to isolate what is most precious in life. They return to it repeatedly as the apex of all our fears, only to be overcome by the embrace of our virtues. As I realize I cannot desperately continue holding on to things, I am then free to finally live with dignity and conviction.
If I merely cling to survival, then dying will appear like an evil to me, just as if I simply pursue pleasures, their fickle nature will continually torment me. If, however, I aim to live each moment I am given with understanding and goodwill, then extinction, or any sort of pain, will pose no threat.
Seneca here refers to an argument, also employed by other philosophers, on how there can be no further loss where there is nothing left to lose. I may say I am terrified of death, yet if death is the complete cessation of existence, there will clearly no longer be any “self” present to experience the suffering. Absence of everything means the end of worries.
If I reply that what I fear is the agony that may well come over me as I am dying, then that remains a situation, however challenging, where I can continue to act with integrity and decency. One might even observe, without wishing to seem morbid, how all of life, and all forms of pain, are a sort of continual passing. Once I view my purpose rightly, I will grasp why a greater trial is just a greater opportunity to do my best work. By nature, every act is fulfilled in its completion
It is foolish, however, for me to think that anything ever ceases to be absolutely, since the end of one state is just the beginning of another. Many of us learn about the laws of conservation for matter and energy in our physics classes, though we rarely dare to consider how this applies to our own living and dying. What I am calling destruction turns out to be a transformation, and therefore may be considered a conversion instead of a termination.
I will not be so vain as to insist on what will become of “me” after I die, and I am happy to leave the matter in the hands of Providence. Yet my reason can at least tell me why something cannot come from nothing, and in turn why something cannot vanish into nothing. However radical that transition may be, whatever disguise the old matter may assume, what I am now must pass on to another purpose. It all comes around again.
—Reflection written in 12/2012
IMAGE: Thomas Cole, Life, Death, and Immortality (1844)
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