I would therefore have you reflect thus, not only when it is a question of gain, but also when it is a question of loss:
"This object is bound to perish."
Yes, it was a mere extra; you will live without it just as easily as you have lived before.
If you have possessed it for a long time, you lose it after you have had your fill of it; if you have not possessed it long, then you lose it before you have become wedded to it.
"You will have less money."
Yes, and less trouble.
"Less influence."
Yes, and less envy.
Look about you and note the things that drive us mad, which we lose with a flood of tears; you will perceive that it is not the loss that troubles us with reference to these things, but a notion of loss.
No one feels that they have been lost, but his mind tells him that it has been so. He that owns himself has lost nothing. But how few men are blessed with ownership of self! Farewell.
"This object is bound to perish."
Yes, it was a mere extra; you will live without it just as easily as you have lived before.
If you have possessed it for a long time, you lose it after you have had your fill of it; if you have not possessed it long, then you lose it before you have become wedded to it.
"You will have less money."
Yes, and less trouble.
"Less influence."
Yes, and less envy.
Look about you and note the things that drive us mad, which we lose with a flood of tears; you will perceive that it is not the loss that troubles us with reference to these things, but a notion of loss.
No one feels that they have been lost, but his mind tells him that it has been so. He that owns himself has lost nothing. But how few men are blessed with ownership of self! Farewell.
—from Seneca, Moral Letters 42
Gains and losses can only make sense when I have a proper understanding of who I am, of what I truly need, and of what can gladly be left behind, without any shame or regret.
Looking at it from the outside, as if I wasn’t involved, I find it ridiculous how people define themselves by their circumstances.
Yet once I experience it from the inside, I feel tortured, each and every day, by the fact that she doesn’t love me, or that no one ever offers recognition and praise, or that worldly prosperity hasn’t somehow dropped into my lap.
As my son has lately grown fond of saying, “What’s up with that?”
I can speculate that it is a quirk, or perhaps a curse, that comes along with being granted the gift of freedom. I also wonder if it is a consequence of some sort of original sin, but I will leave any theological speculation for another time.
No, as much as I can gaze out into the Cosmos, or blame God, the problem lies within me, in the habits I have formed through my twisted thinking. The pattern will only change with a sincere daily effort.
Give love profusely, while never demanding it. Be complete with the action itself, without any further expectations. Nurture the soul with a hand that is both firm and tender, and then the craving for those pesky “things” will fade away.
It becomes easier with practice. Only doing it can prove the point.
As I must come and go, that object before me, which I happen to crave out of some urging of the passions, must also come and go. Instead of clinging to it, I ought to let it be what it is, so that I can then be what I am. “It” has nothing to do with me—let “it” have its own place.
Deliberately tame the initial compulsion, and there is a realization of how the object was superfluous to my happiness. I can be exactly the same person I was before it came into my view.
Either it departs after I discover why it is feeble, or it departs before I grow too accustomed to its presence. In any case, the removal does me good.
No beloved? It may be the time to stand on my own two feet.
No fame? A better chance to walk away from all the petty bickering.
No cash? A greater opportunity to rely upon the inner values.
I was pleased as punch when my son observed that the end of this letter sounded like it came from Epictetus. I resisted the temptation to remind him that Seneca wrote this while Epictetus was probably still a baby, because only bitter people destroy the beauty of the moment by offering snarky corrections.
Own yourself, and the rest can pass by peacefully. All of our problems come from failing to claim an ownership of ourselves. Discern the source of the true human values.
Gains and losses can only make sense when I have a proper understanding of who I am, of what I truly need, and of what can gladly be left behind, without any shame or regret.
Looking at it from the outside, as if I wasn’t involved, I find it ridiculous how people define themselves by their circumstances.
Yet once I experience it from the inside, I feel tortured, each and every day, by the fact that she doesn’t love me, or that no one ever offers recognition and praise, or that worldly prosperity hasn’t somehow dropped into my lap.
As my son has lately grown fond of saying, “What’s up with that?”
I can speculate that it is a quirk, or perhaps a curse, that comes along with being granted the gift of freedom. I also wonder if it is a consequence of some sort of original sin, but I will leave any theological speculation for another time.
No, as much as I can gaze out into the Cosmos, or blame God, the problem lies within me, in the habits I have formed through my twisted thinking. The pattern will only change with a sincere daily effort.
Give love profusely, while never demanding it. Be complete with the action itself, without any further expectations. Nurture the soul with a hand that is both firm and tender, and then the craving for those pesky “things” will fade away.
It becomes easier with practice. Only doing it can prove the point.
As I must come and go, that object before me, which I happen to crave out of some urging of the passions, must also come and go. Instead of clinging to it, I ought to let it be what it is, so that I can then be what I am. “It” has nothing to do with me—let “it” have its own place.
Deliberately tame the initial compulsion, and there is a realization of how the object was superfluous to my happiness. I can be exactly the same person I was before it came into my view.
Either it departs after I discover why it is feeble, or it departs before I grow too accustomed to its presence. In any case, the removal does me good.
No beloved? It may be the time to stand on my own two feet.
No fame? A better chance to walk away from all the petty bickering.
No cash? A greater opportunity to rely upon the inner values.
I was pleased as punch when my son observed that the end of this letter sounded like it came from Epictetus. I resisted the temptation to remind him that Seneca wrote this while Epictetus was probably still a baby, because only bitter people destroy the beauty of the moment by offering snarky corrections.
Own yourself, and the rest can pass by peacefully. All of our problems come from failing to claim an ownership of ourselves. Discern the source of the true human values.
—Reflection written in 1/2013
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