So you in your province are really of importance, though you scorn yourself. Men are asking what you do, how you dine, and how you sleep, and they find out, too; hence there is all the more reason for your living circumspectly.
Do not, however, deem yourself truly happy until you find that you can live before men's eyes, until your walls protect but do not hide you; although we are apt to believe that these walls surround us, not to enable us to live more safely, but that we may sin more secretly.
Do not, however, deem yourself truly happy until you find that you can live before men's eyes, until your walls protect but do not hide you; although we are apt to believe that these walls surround us, not to enable us to live more safely, but that we may sin more secretly.
—from Seneca, Moral Letters 43
Quite understandably, Lucilius is troubled about whether he is important, and there is little point in merely ordering him not to fret over it.
The “tough guy” attitude about pesky feelings is to dismiss them, or to lock them away, but that does not resolve any of the problems. No, the Stoic solution is always to face the reality, to understand its meaning, and to transform it into an opportunity for progress.
Do I really matter in this world, at least in a way that has genuine value? Distinguo. As is so often the case, how I have asked the question points to the only satisfying answer. Seek to first grasp the nature of genuine value, and then the issue of what matters in life, including the worth of my own thoughts, words, and deeds, will become apparent.
This is why philosophy, in daily practice, is indispensable for happiness. There can be no purpose without awareness, no intention without a vision of the goal. When my principles are in order, my standards for the superior and the inferior are in order.
Now the fact is that people are talking about Lucilius, so he certainly has some sort of significance to them, whether for better or for worse. Even in my own rather odd and isolated state, I never fail to raise eyebrows, and so I doubt there is a single person on Earth who fails to have some influence on others.
Yet beyond the range of perceptions by others, there is my deeper relationship to the order of Nature. Are my actions flowing with, or fighting against, the benefit of the whole? Am I living with integrity or with trickery? Is my path one of freely giving or of incessantly demanding?
Briefly put, am I choosing to follow virtue or vice, the very test of my identity as a creature of reason and will? Once I sincerely define my human importance in such a way, my relevance is assured, and the accidents no longer appear so ominous.
Nevertheless, I should not wish to become invisible to people, even if it were possible to do so, just because I happen to be dissatisfied with their opinions about me. If I choose to live honestly, I have nothing to hide from them; if I am mindful of my responsibilities, there is no need for concealment.
I’m not sure when I was first exposed to the idea, though I suspect it was from C.S. Lewis, that shame would be completely unnecessary if we didn’t feel guilt. This is one of those insights that is now constantly in my thoughts, and it reminds me why attempting to present myself as something I’m not is a surefire sign of my depravity.
If it is right, be proud to let it show. If it is wrong, don’t do it to begin with. Yes, it’s that simple.
The four walls of my house offer me a certain comfort, but they do not ultimately keep out the prying eyes or the persistent marauders. And why should they? Bars on the windows, a burglar alarm, or moving to a ritzy neighborhood are no replacement for a building a beautiful soul, my true home.
I once discovered a fine little mouse settling down inside one of my old shoes, complete with a bed of shredded paper, and I couldn’t bring myself to evict him; he and his chosen abode were gently moved to a shed in the yard. We were both quite happy being ourselves, without any desire for putting on an act.
Quite understandably, Lucilius is troubled about whether he is important, and there is little point in merely ordering him not to fret over it.
The “tough guy” attitude about pesky feelings is to dismiss them, or to lock them away, but that does not resolve any of the problems. No, the Stoic solution is always to face the reality, to understand its meaning, and to transform it into an opportunity for progress.
Do I really matter in this world, at least in a way that has genuine value? Distinguo. As is so often the case, how I have asked the question points to the only satisfying answer. Seek to first grasp the nature of genuine value, and then the issue of what matters in life, including the worth of my own thoughts, words, and deeds, will become apparent.
This is why philosophy, in daily practice, is indispensable for happiness. There can be no purpose without awareness, no intention without a vision of the goal. When my principles are in order, my standards for the superior and the inferior are in order.
Now the fact is that people are talking about Lucilius, so he certainly has some sort of significance to them, whether for better or for worse. Even in my own rather odd and isolated state, I never fail to raise eyebrows, and so I doubt there is a single person on Earth who fails to have some influence on others.
Yet beyond the range of perceptions by others, there is my deeper relationship to the order of Nature. Are my actions flowing with, or fighting against, the benefit of the whole? Am I living with integrity or with trickery? Is my path one of freely giving or of incessantly demanding?
Briefly put, am I choosing to follow virtue or vice, the very test of my identity as a creature of reason and will? Once I sincerely define my human importance in such a way, my relevance is assured, and the accidents no longer appear so ominous.
Nevertheless, I should not wish to become invisible to people, even if it were possible to do so, just because I happen to be dissatisfied with their opinions about me. If I choose to live honestly, I have nothing to hide from them; if I am mindful of my responsibilities, there is no need for concealment.
I’m not sure when I was first exposed to the idea, though I suspect it was from C.S. Lewis, that shame would be completely unnecessary if we didn’t feel guilt. This is one of those insights that is now constantly in my thoughts, and it reminds me why attempting to present myself as something I’m not is a surefire sign of my depravity.
If it is right, be proud to let it show. If it is wrong, don’t do it to begin with. Yes, it’s that simple.
The four walls of my house offer me a certain comfort, but they do not ultimately keep out the prying eyes or the persistent marauders. And why should they? Bars on the windows, a burglar alarm, or moving to a ritzy neighborhood are no replacement for a building a beautiful soul, my true home.
I once discovered a fine little mouse settling down inside one of my old shoes, complete with a bed of shredded paper, and I couldn’t bring myself to evict him; he and his chosen abode were gently moved to a shed in the yard. We were both quite happy being ourselves, without any desire for putting on an act.
—Reflection written in 2/2013
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