Then you say: "Is it retirement, Seneca, that you are recommending to me? You will soon be falling back upon the maxims of Epicurus!"
I do recommend retirement to you, but only that you may use it for greater and more beautiful activities than those which you have resigned; to knock at the haughty doors of the influential, to make alphabetical lists of childless old men, to wield the highest authority in public life—this kind of power exposes you to hatred, is short-lived, and, if you rate it at its true value, is tawdry.
One man shall be far ahead of me as regards his influence in public life, another in salary as an army officer and in the position which results from this, another in the throng of his clients; but it is worthwhile to be outdone by all these men, provided that I myself can outdo Fortune. And I am no match for her in the throng; she has the greater backing.
I do recommend retirement to you, but only that you may use it for greater and more beautiful activities than those which you have resigned; to knock at the haughty doors of the influential, to make alphabetical lists of childless old men, to wield the highest authority in public life—this kind of power exposes you to hatred, is short-lived, and, if you rate it at its true value, is tawdry.
One man shall be far ahead of me as regards his influence in public life, another in salary as an army officer and in the position which results from this, another in the throng of his clients; but it is worthwhile to be outdone by all these men, provided that I myself can outdo Fortune. And I am no match for her in the throng; she has the greater backing.
—from Seneca, Moral Letters 68
The intellectual always runs the risk of becoming an elitist, and of believing that his special insights excuse him from rubbing shoulders with the unwashed masses. He may be right to note how his willingness to reflect makes him different, perhaps painfully so, and yet he is mistaken in assuming he must therefore insulate himself.
For man to be rational he must also be social, though how he expresses such a commitment to his fellows may not fit into the usual pigeonholes. When human dignity is defined by character instead of circumstance, the appeal of fortune and fame will gradually fade, and blind conformity will give way to a conscience that is no longer intimidated by fashion. The good man goes his own way, even as he is hardly running away; he loves his neighbors, but he feels no need to pander to them.
While the Epicureans would often suggest withdrawing from society as much as possible, the Stoics recognized why the part has no purpose without the whole. Retiring from the life of the busybody means casting off all the flashy ornaments, and so returning to the simplicity of our nature. It may look like idleness or isolation to the go-getters, yet that is only because they have no conception of a value without a price tag.
The genuine activity of this life is to understand and to love, not to see and to be seen; the greatest vitality is in nurturing the soul, not in putting on a show. Permit others to beg for promotions, or scheme about investments, or feud with their enemies, though also be ready to offer them comfort and encouragement when they have reduced themselves to nervous wrecks.
There is never any need either to surrender or to flee from Fortune: fools aim to conquer her on her terms, but the wise know to rise above her on Nature’s terms. A philosopher finds peace of mind by not allowing his happiness to be decided by a toss of the dice or the end of a stick.
The intellectual always runs the risk of becoming an elitist, and of believing that his special insights excuse him from rubbing shoulders with the unwashed masses. He may be right to note how his willingness to reflect makes him different, perhaps painfully so, and yet he is mistaken in assuming he must therefore insulate himself.
For man to be rational he must also be social, though how he expresses such a commitment to his fellows may not fit into the usual pigeonholes. When human dignity is defined by character instead of circumstance, the appeal of fortune and fame will gradually fade, and blind conformity will give way to a conscience that is no longer intimidated by fashion. The good man goes his own way, even as he is hardly running away; he loves his neighbors, but he feels no need to pander to them.
While the Epicureans would often suggest withdrawing from society as much as possible, the Stoics recognized why the part has no purpose without the whole. Retiring from the life of the busybody means casting off all the flashy ornaments, and so returning to the simplicity of our nature. It may look like idleness or isolation to the go-getters, yet that is only because they have no conception of a value without a price tag.
The genuine activity of this life is to understand and to love, not to see and to be seen; the greatest vitality is in nurturing the soul, not in putting on a show. Permit others to beg for promotions, or scheme about investments, or feud with their enemies, though also be ready to offer them comfort and encouragement when they have reduced themselves to nervous wrecks.
There is never any need either to surrender or to flee from Fortune: fools aim to conquer her on her terms, but the wise know to rise above her on Nature’s terms. A philosopher finds peace of mind by not allowing his happiness to be decided by a toss of the dice or the end of a stick.
—Reflection written in 8/2013
IMAGE: Jan Adriaensz van Staveren, A Hermit in a Ruin (c. 1660)
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