However, I have this further reason for frightening you away from the latter malady, namely, that you could only be successful in practicing this style by losing your sense of modesty; you would have to rub all shame from your countenance, and refuse to hear yourself speak. For that heedless flow will carry with it many expressions which you would wish to criticize.
And, I repeat, you could not attain it and at the same time preserve your sense of shame. Moreover, you would need to practice every day, and transfer your attention from subject matter to words.
But words, even if they came to you readily and flowed without any exertion on your part, yet would have to be kept under control. For just as a less ostentatious gait becomes a philosopher, so does a restrained style of speech, far removed from boldness. Therefore, the ultimate kernel of my remarks is this: I bid you be slow of speech. Farewell.
And, I repeat, you could not attain it and at the same time preserve your sense of shame. Moreover, you would need to practice every day, and transfer your attention from subject matter to words.
But words, even if they came to you readily and flowed without any exertion on your part, yet would have to be kept under control. For just as a less ostentatious gait becomes a philosopher, so does a restrained style of speech, far removed from boldness. Therefore, the ultimate kernel of my remarks is this: I bid you be slow of speech. Farewell.
—from Seneca, Moral Letters 40
You can warn me about how careless speech might drive away my friends, or cost me a promotion, or just make my circumstances generally wretched, yet I have found the workings of my own conscience to be the most powerful deterrent against loose lips. After all, I know many people who have become quite popular, rich, and pampered by speaking with flamboyance instead of conviction. The danger is about crippling souls, not simply about sinking ships.
Time and time again, I have foolishly tried to mimic my peers, and commit myself to the subtle skills of manipulation. If I do as they do, will I then perhaps appear as successful and confident as they do? Yes, but it turns out the appearance is all there is, while on the inside lurks a constant anxiety about maintaining the illusion. What if they find out who I really am? Even worse, how can I possibly continue to look at myself in the mirror?
My most basic attempts at fast talking have always resulted in an unbearable sense of guilt. It’s possible that no one else knows, at least not yet, but the fact remains that I know, and it tears me apart to be aware that I am nothing more than a player. Fairly soon, I worry so much about looking slick that I forget to work on the true class that flows from character, and I wonder why my efforts at winning feel like such a failure.
I have even told myself that I am too sensitive and overly scrupulous, and how I only need to extinguish those pesky principles, or at the very least force them into the corner, where they can’t cause any more trouble. How odd, and how pathetic, for a creature defined by reason to believe he can somehow escape his own essence!
Now aren’t there people who lack a conscience, or more accurately people who have chosen not to inform their sense of right and wrong, and thereby avoid any pangs about integrity? As much as the deliberate reflection may be shunned, the effects of disorder in the soul must remain, just as the man ignorant of a disease in his body cannot long avoid the painful symptoms.
Accordingly, I suspect that we can all tell when we are horribly broken, though we may at present be oblivious to the deeper causes. I feel deeply ashamed when I lie, however much I have made excuses. I also notice how defensive, even violently aggressive, people become when they know that I know about their shenanigans. We can’t endure the recognition of our nature being denied.
Misery comes from wickedness, and wickedness comes from abandoning self-control. Wasted words and slippery expressions are signs that moderation has been lost, so let me work on becoming a genuine philosopher before I try to be a salesman.
You can warn me about how careless speech might drive away my friends, or cost me a promotion, or just make my circumstances generally wretched, yet I have found the workings of my own conscience to be the most powerful deterrent against loose lips. After all, I know many people who have become quite popular, rich, and pampered by speaking with flamboyance instead of conviction. The danger is about crippling souls, not simply about sinking ships.
Time and time again, I have foolishly tried to mimic my peers, and commit myself to the subtle skills of manipulation. If I do as they do, will I then perhaps appear as successful and confident as they do? Yes, but it turns out the appearance is all there is, while on the inside lurks a constant anxiety about maintaining the illusion. What if they find out who I really am? Even worse, how can I possibly continue to look at myself in the mirror?
My most basic attempts at fast talking have always resulted in an unbearable sense of guilt. It’s possible that no one else knows, at least not yet, but the fact remains that I know, and it tears me apart to be aware that I am nothing more than a player. Fairly soon, I worry so much about looking slick that I forget to work on the true class that flows from character, and I wonder why my efforts at winning feel like such a failure.
I have even told myself that I am too sensitive and overly scrupulous, and how I only need to extinguish those pesky principles, or at the very least force them into the corner, where they can’t cause any more trouble. How odd, and how pathetic, for a creature defined by reason to believe he can somehow escape his own essence!
Now aren’t there people who lack a conscience, or more accurately people who have chosen not to inform their sense of right and wrong, and thereby avoid any pangs about integrity? As much as the deliberate reflection may be shunned, the effects of disorder in the soul must remain, just as the man ignorant of a disease in his body cannot long avoid the painful symptoms.
Accordingly, I suspect that we can all tell when we are horribly broken, though we may at present be oblivious to the deeper causes. I feel deeply ashamed when I lie, however much I have made excuses. I also notice how defensive, even violently aggressive, people become when they know that I know about their shenanigans. We can’t endure the recognition of our nature being denied.
Misery comes from wickedness, and wickedness comes from abandoning self-control. Wasted words and slippery expressions are signs that moderation has been lost, so let me work on becoming a genuine philosopher before I try to be a salesman.
—Reflection written in 1/2013
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