Letter 40: On the proper style for a philosopher’s discourse
I thank you for writing to me so often; for you are revealing your real self to me in the only way you can.
I never receive a letter from you without being in your company forthwith. If the pictures of our absent friends are pleasing to us, though they only refresh the memory and lighten our longing by a solace that is unreal and unsubstantial, how much more pleasant is a letter, which brings us real traces, real evidences, of an absent friend!
For that which is sweetest when we meet face to face is afforded by the impress of a friend's hand upon his letter—recognition.
I thank you for writing to me so often; for you are revealing your real self to me in the only way you can.
I never receive a letter from you without being in your company forthwith. If the pictures of our absent friends are pleasing to us, though they only refresh the memory and lighten our longing by a solace that is unreal and unsubstantial, how much more pleasant is a letter, which brings us real traces, real evidences, of an absent friend!
For that which is sweetest when we meet face to face is afforded by the impress of a friend's hand upon his letter—recognition.
—from Seneca, Moral Letters 40
I am unfortunately inclined to becoming cynical about friendship, because most of the people I know are quite mercenary in their affections, trading a gratification for a convenience, or only offering their time when they spy a prospect for getting ahead.
Yet I resist such a temptation, for it says far more about my own poor choices in company than it does about any universal human condition. As with all things Stoic, let me modify my thinking, turn things around, and find a better way to redirect that energy.
Given our nature as creatures of judgment and choice, it should come as no surprise that we are capable of both great virtues and great vices. Now regardless of what others may decide, which way will I go? I would be well-advised to seek out those who are on a similar path, and then I won’t be so dismayed and resentful about conflicting values.
And yes, there are still many people out there who revere a friendship grounded in mutual love, and who are sincere in their desire to give of themselves without condition. They may not be as visible, since they are not interested in showing off, but they are waiting just as I am, just as you might be, to share the load.
When I come across a passage like this one, I take a moment to savor it. I ignore the snickering of those who claim it’s all about getting sex or gaining favor, and I appreciate how Nature made us to work together in true fellowship. A relationship will be as good and as pure as the character that stands behind it. I know what my pick must be.
Though it may well change again, as the ways of the world inevitably change, my generation was the last to write letters, and even then, I was one of the few who still threw himself into the task wholeheartedly.
I probably wrote thousands, most of them by hand, almost all of them so long they required that extra postage stamp. Many of them were full of thoughts and feelings I now recognize as naïve, yet I would still insist that none of them were wasted. While I often chose the recipients of my attentions unwisely, it was learning to be rejected that ultimately helped me to respect myself.
I know full well how Seneca felt when he pored over the words of a dear friend. If a physical presence is not possible, putting pen to paper can serve as a spiritual presence.
The appeal to human solidarity was one of the first things that drew me to Stoicism, and it remains one of my greatest comforts now.
I am unfortunately inclined to becoming cynical about friendship, because most of the people I know are quite mercenary in their affections, trading a gratification for a convenience, or only offering their time when they spy a prospect for getting ahead.
Yet I resist such a temptation, for it says far more about my own poor choices in company than it does about any universal human condition. As with all things Stoic, let me modify my thinking, turn things around, and find a better way to redirect that energy.
Given our nature as creatures of judgment and choice, it should come as no surprise that we are capable of both great virtues and great vices. Now regardless of what others may decide, which way will I go? I would be well-advised to seek out those who are on a similar path, and then I won’t be so dismayed and resentful about conflicting values.
And yes, there are still many people out there who revere a friendship grounded in mutual love, and who are sincere in their desire to give of themselves without condition. They may not be as visible, since they are not interested in showing off, but they are waiting just as I am, just as you might be, to share the load.
When I come across a passage like this one, I take a moment to savor it. I ignore the snickering of those who claim it’s all about getting sex or gaining favor, and I appreciate how Nature made us to work together in true fellowship. A relationship will be as good and as pure as the character that stands behind it. I know what my pick must be.
Though it may well change again, as the ways of the world inevitably change, my generation was the last to write letters, and even then, I was one of the few who still threw himself into the task wholeheartedly.
I probably wrote thousands, most of them by hand, almost all of them so long they required that extra postage stamp. Many of them were full of thoughts and feelings I now recognize as naïve, yet I would still insist that none of them were wasted. While I often chose the recipients of my attentions unwisely, it was learning to be rejected that ultimately helped me to respect myself.
I know full well how Seneca felt when he pored over the words of a dear friend. If a physical presence is not possible, putting pen to paper can serve as a spiritual presence.
The appeal to human solidarity was one of the first things that drew me to Stoicism, and it remains one of my greatest comforts now.
—Reflection written in 1/2013
IMAGE: Gerard ter Borch, Young Man Reading (c. 1680)
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