I shall now show you how you may know that you are not wise.
The wise man is joyful, happy, and calm, unshaken; he lives on a plane with the gods. Now go, question yourself; if you are never downcast, if your mind is not harassed by any apprehension, through anticipation of what is to come, if day and night your soul keeps on its even and unswerving course, upright and content with itself, then you have attained to the greatest good that mortals can possess.
If, however, you seek pleasures of all kinds in all directions, you must know that you are as far short of wisdom as you are short of joy. Joy is the goal which you desire to reach, but you are wandering from the path, if you expect to reach your goal while you are in the midst of riches and official titles—in other words, if you seek joy in the midst of cares. These objects for which you strive so eagerly, as if they would give you happiness and pleasure, are merely causes of grief.
All men of this stamp, I maintain, are pressing on in pursuit of joy, but they do not know where they may obtain a joy that is both great and enduring.
One person seeks it in feasting and self-indulgence; another, in canvassing for honors and in being surrounded by a throng of clients; another, in his mistress; another, in idle display of culture and in literature that has no power to heal; all these men are led astray by delights which are deceptive and short-lived—like drunkenness for example, which pays for a single hour of hilarious madness by a sickness of many days, or like applause and the popularity of enthusiastic approval which are gained, and atoned for, at the cost of great mental disquietude.
The wise man is joyful, happy, and calm, unshaken; he lives on a plane with the gods. Now go, question yourself; if you are never downcast, if your mind is not harassed by any apprehension, through anticipation of what is to come, if day and night your soul keeps on its even and unswerving course, upright and content with itself, then you have attained to the greatest good that mortals can possess.
If, however, you seek pleasures of all kinds in all directions, you must know that you are as far short of wisdom as you are short of joy. Joy is the goal which you desire to reach, but you are wandering from the path, if you expect to reach your goal while you are in the midst of riches and official titles—in other words, if you seek joy in the midst of cares. These objects for which you strive so eagerly, as if they would give you happiness and pleasure, are merely causes of grief.
All men of this stamp, I maintain, are pressing on in pursuit of joy, but they do not know where they may obtain a joy that is both great and enduring.
One person seeks it in feasting and self-indulgence; another, in canvassing for honors and in being surrounded by a throng of clients; another, in his mistress; another, in idle display of culture and in literature that has no power to heal; all these men are led astray by delights which are deceptive and short-lived—like drunkenness for example, which pays for a single hour of hilarious madness by a sickness of many days, or like applause and the popularity of enthusiastic approval which are gained, and atoned for, at the cost of great mental disquietude.
—from Seneca, Moral Letters 59
Happiness, and the wisdom required for it, may seem so deeply mysterious, and yet the Stoics have taught me a way to rather quickly ascertain if a man is managing to live well. As with all standards of judgment, it works best of all when it is focused within.
Simply put, does he regularly show himself to be at peace with himself and his circumstances, or is he constantly grasping, and therefore ill at ease with his condition? I am doing better when I want for little, and I am doing worse when I crave for more.
Now while many of us believe that satisfaction comes from the acquisition of externals, and therefore involves constant plotting and scheming to stack the deck, the Stoic understands how everything revolves around an internal attitude. Once I realize why the exercise of my nature alone is sufficient, whatever the lay of the land, I am freed from the bondage of discontent.
The wise man reveals himself in his happiness, since he makes no demands of the world. In this sense, it can truly be said that he is god-like, approaching the level of Divine self-sufficiency, for he is able to smile at any kind of fortune. In finding his genuine humanity, he has found his bliss.
In contrast, note how the covetous man may well present himself as confident and ambitious, but he is a slave to the objects of his desire. This is why he is never quite comfortable with himself, and he always remains anxious and angry. That throbbing vein on the power broker’s neck betrays his fatal weakness.
Some seek happiness in pleasure, in fame, or in influence, and they still can’t hide the fact that their frustrations are a consequence of their misery. When wisdom does not clarify the meaning of joy, serenity is out of reach.
I laugh out loud at Seneca’s final two examples, having fallen for such lies far too often in my younger days. Turning to binge drinking felt like a way to numb the pain, which I, in turn, selfishly attributed to not being properly loved or appreciated. There is no need for a narcotic or a reliance on the opinions of others—virtue is freedom, for it depends only on itself.
Happiness, and the wisdom required for it, may seem so deeply mysterious, and yet the Stoics have taught me a way to rather quickly ascertain if a man is managing to live well. As with all standards of judgment, it works best of all when it is focused within.
Simply put, does he regularly show himself to be at peace with himself and his circumstances, or is he constantly grasping, and therefore ill at ease with his condition? I am doing better when I want for little, and I am doing worse when I crave for more.
Now while many of us believe that satisfaction comes from the acquisition of externals, and therefore involves constant plotting and scheming to stack the deck, the Stoic understands how everything revolves around an internal attitude. Once I realize why the exercise of my nature alone is sufficient, whatever the lay of the land, I am freed from the bondage of discontent.
The wise man reveals himself in his happiness, since he makes no demands of the world. In this sense, it can truly be said that he is god-like, approaching the level of Divine self-sufficiency, for he is able to smile at any kind of fortune. In finding his genuine humanity, he has found his bliss.
In contrast, note how the covetous man may well present himself as confident and ambitious, but he is a slave to the objects of his desire. This is why he is never quite comfortable with himself, and he always remains anxious and angry. That throbbing vein on the power broker’s neck betrays his fatal weakness.
Some seek happiness in pleasure, in fame, or in influence, and they still can’t hide the fact that their frustrations are a consequence of their misery. When wisdom does not clarify the meaning of joy, serenity is out of reach.
I laugh out loud at Seneca’s final two examples, having fallen for such lies far too often in my younger days. Turning to binge drinking felt like a way to numb the pain, which I, in turn, selfishly attributed to not being properly loved or appreciated. There is no need for a narcotic or a reliance on the opinions of others—virtue is freedom, for it depends only on itself.
—Reflection written in 6/2013
IMAGE: Niccola Ricciolini, Allegory of Hope and Happiness (c. 1720)
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