The wise man, the seeker after wisdom, is bound closely, indeed, to his body, but he is an absentee so far as his better self is concerned, and he concentrates his thoughts upon lofty things. Bound, so to speak, to his oath of allegiance, he regards the period of life as his term of service. He is so trained that he neither loves nor hates life; he endures a mortal lot, although he knows that an ampler lot is in store for him.
Do you forbid me to contemplate the Universe? Do you compel me to withdraw from the whole and restrict me to a part? May I not ask what are the beginnings of all things, who molded the Universe, who took the confused and conglomerate mass of sluggish matter, and separated it into its parts?
May I not inquire who is the Master-Builder of this Universe, how the mighty bulk was brought under the control of law and order, who gathered together the scattered atoms, who separated the disordered elements and assigned an outward form to elements that lay in one vast shapelessness? Or whence came all the expanse of light? And whether is it fire, or something even brighter than fire?
Am I not to ask these questions? Must I be ignorant of the heights whence I have descended? Whether I am to see this world but once, or to be born many times? What is my destination afterwards? What abode awaits my soul on its release from the laws of slavery among men? Do you forbid me to have a share in heaven? In other words, do you bid me live with my head bowed down?
Do you forbid me to contemplate the Universe? Do you compel me to withdraw from the whole and restrict me to a part? May I not ask what are the beginnings of all things, who molded the Universe, who took the confused and conglomerate mass of sluggish matter, and separated it into its parts?
May I not inquire who is the Master-Builder of this Universe, how the mighty bulk was brought under the control of law and order, who gathered together the scattered atoms, who separated the disordered elements and assigned an outward form to elements that lay in one vast shapelessness? Or whence came all the expanse of light? And whether is it fire, or something even brighter than fire?
Am I not to ask these questions? Must I be ignorant of the heights whence I have descended? Whether I am to see this world but once, or to be born many times? What is my destination afterwards? What abode awaits my soul on its release from the laws of slavery among men? Do you forbid me to have a share in heaven? In other words, do you bid me live with my head bowed down?
—from Seneca, Moral Letters 65
For creatures gifted with reason, we may seem remarkably inept at making sense of ourselves and our world. We become fixated with the proximate, while ignoring the ultimate. We twist our thoughts to suit our passions, instead of guiding our feelings in the service of what we know to be true and good.
Yet, upon further reflection, this should hardly come as a surprise at all, for with the power of judgement also comes the capacity for free will, and with choice there is always the opportunity both to embrace and to reject. For every one way to judge rightly, there are so many more ways to judge wrongly. The option of failure is as likely, if not far more so, that the prospect of success.
For all of our troubles, however, the reward will far outweigh the risk. I am guaranteed to fall short when I do not fully comprehend the scale of what is at stake, and when I do not immediately appreciate how attaining peace of mind is the wellspring of all other contentment. I will continue to grapple with worldly nuisances only as long as I do not recognize my higher self.
Will they laugh at you, or even try to block your way, if you wish to contemplate the whole of Creation, or get to know something more of the Maker, or inquire into the beauty of the design that imparts meaning and purpose? Yes, there are certain kinds of people who demand that you just keep your face in the dirt, but, as is often said, they are not the boss of you; they cannot stop you from elevating your mind to marvel at the glory of the bigger picture.
There is no need to hate the body, only to judge it as relative to the absolute measure of Nature, which is the work of Providence. Once some progress is made in this direction, it is remarkable how insignificant the old attachments begin to appear.
In this sense, the philosopher is something like an astronomer, always seeking out the stunning patterns in what lies above and beyond. By learning more about the totality, he also learns more about himself.
For creatures gifted with reason, we may seem remarkably inept at making sense of ourselves and our world. We become fixated with the proximate, while ignoring the ultimate. We twist our thoughts to suit our passions, instead of guiding our feelings in the service of what we know to be true and good.
Yet, upon further reflection, this should hardly come as a surprise at all, for with the power of judgement also comes the capacity for free will, and with choice there is always the opportunity both to embrace and to reject. For every one way to judge rightly, there are so many more ways to judge wrongly. The option of failure is as likely, if not far more so, that the prospect of success.
For all of our troubles, however, the reward will far outweigh the risk. I am guaranteed to fall short when I do not fully comprehend the scale of what is at stake, and when I do not immediately appreciate how attaining peace of mind is the wellspring of all other contentment. I will continue to grapple with worldly nuisances only as long as I do not recognize my higher self.
Will they laugh at you, or even try to block your way, if you wish to contemplate the whole of Creation, or get to know something more of the Maker, or inquire into the beauty of the design that imparts meaning and purpose? Yes, there are certain kinds of people who demand that you just keep your face in the dirt, but, as is often said, they are not the boss of you; they cannot stop you from elevating your mind to marvel at the glory of the bigger picture.
There is no need to hate the body, only to judge it as relative to the absolute measure of Nature, which is the work of Providence. Once some progress is made in this direction, it is remarkable how insignificant the old attachments begin to appear.
In this sense, the philosopher is something like an astronomer, always seeking out the stunning patterns in what lies above and beyond. By learning more about the totality, he also learns more about himself.
—Reflection written in 7/2013
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