But even if the old masters have discovered everything, one thing will be always new—the application and the scientific study and classification of the discoveries made by others.
Assume that prescriptions have been handed down to us for the healing of the eyes; there is no need of my searching for others in addition; but for all that, these prescriptions must be adapted to the particular disease and to the particular stage of the disease.
Use this prescription to relieve granulation of the eyelids, that to reduce the swelling of the lids, this to prevent sudden pain or a rush of tears, that to sharpen the vision. Then compound these several prescriptions, watch for the right time of their application, and apply the proper treatment in each case.
The cures for the spirit also have been discovered by the ancients; but it is our task to learn the method and the time of treatment.
Assume that prescriptions have been handed down to us for the healing of the eyes; there is no need of my searching for others in addition; but for all that, these prescriptions must be adapted to the particular disease and to the particular stage of the disease.
Use this prescription to relieve granulation of the eyelids, that to reduce the swelling of the lids, this to prevent sudden pain or a rush of tears, that to sharpen the vision. Then compound these several prescriptions, watch for the right time of their application, and apply the proper treatment in each case.
The cures for the spirit also have been discovered by the ancients; but it is our task to learn the method and the time of treatment.
Our predecessors have worked much improvement, but have not worked out the problem. They deserve respect, however, and should be worshipped with a divine ritual. Why should I not keep statues of great men to kindle my enthusiasm, and celebrate their birthdays? Why should I not continually greet them with respect and honor?
The reverence which I owe to my own teachers I owe in like measure to those teachers of the human race, the source from which the beginnings of such great blessings have flowed.
—from Seneca, Moral Letters 64
I am equally wary of the stuffy traditionalist, who obsesses about the distant past as if it had been some glorious paradise, and the fiery progressive, who latches on to every new trend as if it proves the base ignorance of his forefathers. Both of them are too enamored with the narrow part of their preferences; neither of them are open to the harmony of the whole.
I should have the humility to recognize how those who came before me had the benefit of facing our common challenges first, and so they offer us the gift of handing down their accumulated understanding. As I myself grow older, and hopefully just a little bit wiser, I return back to those venerable insights I had once overlooked, shocked by how fresh they suddenly seem.
And yet none of this means that the work is already complete, or that the truth is cast in stone. The Universe is far too vast to be grasped by one man, or even by one age, and even if the Ancients had managed to isolate all the essentials, there would still be no end to discovering the peculiarities of the craft. As Seneca says, it is one thing to write a sweeping theory of medicine, and quite another to become a skillful physician.
Perhaps the tradition has granted me the breadth, and now I must engage in exploring the depths, as only I can do for myself, in these unique conditions. This may be the correct prescription, but what is the best dosage or frequency? Though you can pass me a handbook, I will still have to learn in the field. The theory, however nobly expressed, needs to be fleshed out in gritty practice.
Along with Seneca, I thank God for the wisdom of old, also knowing full well that Providence is now asking me to do my half, to be my own particular instance of the universal, to apply what is eternally true for all to what is now true for me. That process will unfold for all time, as the very order and design of Nature intends. Wisdom is thereby continually reborn.
I am equally wary of the stuffy traditionalist, who obsesses about the distant past as if it had been some glorious paradise, and the fiery progressive, who latches on to every new trend as if it proves the base ignorance of his forefathers. Both of them are too enamored with the narrow part of their preferences; neither of them are open to the harmony of the whole.
I should have the humility to recognize how those who came before me had the benefit of facing our common challenges first, and so they offer us the gift of handing down their accumulated understanding. As I myself grow older, and hopefully just a little bit wiser, I return back to those venerable insights I had once overlooked, shocked by how fresh they suddenly seem.
And yet none of this means that the work is already complete, or that the truth is cast in stone. The Universe is far too vast to be grasped by one man, or even by one age, and even if the Ancients had managed to isolate all the essentials, there would still be no end to discovering the peculiarities of the craft. As Seneca says, it is one thing to write a sweeping theory of medicine, and quite another to become a skillful physician.
Perhaps the tradition has granted me the breadth, and now I must engage in exploring the depths, as only I can do for myself, in these unique conditions. This may be the correct prescription, but what is the best dosage or frequency? Though you can pass me a handbook, I will still have to learn in the field. The theory, however nobly expressed, needs to be fleshed out in gritty practice.
Along with Seneca, I thank God for the wisdom of old, also knowing full well that Providence is now asking me to do my half, to be my own particular instance of the universal, to apply what is eternally true for all to what is now true for me. That process will unfold for all time, as the very order and design of Nature intends. Wisdom is thereby continually reborn.
—Reflection written in 7/2013
IMAGE: Gustav Klimt, Pallas Athena (1898)
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