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Saturday, June 1, 2024

Seneca, Moral Letters 68.3


When you withdraw from the world your business is to talk with yourself, not to have men talk about you. 
 
But what shall you talk about? Do just what people are fond of doing when they talk about their neighbors—speak ill of yourself when by yourself; then you will become accustomed both to speak and to hear the truth. 
 
Above all, however, ponder that which you come to feel is your greatest weakness. Each man knows best the defects of his own body. And so one relieves his stomach by vomiting, another props it up by frequent eating, another drains and purges his body by periodic fasting. Those whose feet are visited by pain abstain either from wine or from the bath. In general, men who are careless in other respects go out of their way to relieve the disease which frequently afflicts them. 
 
So it is with our souls; there are in them certain parts which are, so to speak, on the sick list, and to these parts the cure must be applied. 

—from Seneca, Moral Letters 68 
 
If a fellow won’t first converse with himself, how can he expect to engage with others? I know far too many people who can’t stand to be alone with themselves, and so they act out when in company.
 
I have now reread this section many dozens of times, first because I wanted to make sure I rightly understood the point, and then because I was so impressed by how effective this method can be to get myself back on track. When I am anxious and insecure, I am likely to distract myself by criticizing others. Before I am quick to judge my neighbor, however, might not the effort be better spent on carefully learning about my own flaws? 
 
The moment I am tempted to cast blame, let me remember what is properly meant to be my business. Instead of thinking I will feel superior by putting someone else down, I could actually raise myself up by rebuilding my character. All that energy can immediately be redirected from a nasty insult toward a healthy introspection—turn the urge to grumble and gossip inward, and then it will at least serve a good purpose. 
 
Once I am more comfortable with admonishing myself, I will also no longer be so hurt when I receive an insult from another. I think of how Diogenes would beg for alms from statues, so he could grow familiar with being refused. 
 
As much as a doctor can diagnose my symptoms, I am, in the end, the one who has the most direct experience about my body’s unique quirks. This is all the more true for the soul, the inner workings of which are the effects of my own private judgments. That awareness will not be instant, and it will require hard work, but if I choose to be completely honest with myself, I am closest to both my strengths and my weaknesses. 
 
The mental exercise puts a new twist on the phrase “Physician, heal thyself!” To look to the inside with the same critical eye I cast on the outside is both deeply humbling and refreshingly liberating. 

—Reflection written in 8/2013 



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