We must resist the affairs which occupy our time; they must not be untangled, but rather put out of the way. Indeed, there is no time that is unsuitable for helpful studies; and yet many a man fails to study amid the very circumstances which make study necessary.
He says: "Something will happen to hinder me."
No, not in the case of the man whose spirit, no matter what his business may be, is happy and alert. It is those who are still short of perfection whose happiness can be broken off; the joy of a wise man, on the other hand, is a woven fabric, rent by no chance happening and by no change of fortune; at all times and in all places he is at peace.
For his joy depends on nothing external and looks for no boon from man or fortune. His happiness is something within himself; it would depart from his soul if it entered in from the outside; it is born there.
Sometimes an external happening reminds him of his mortality, but it is a light blow, and merely grazes the surface of his skin. Some trouble, I repeat, may touch him like a breath of wind, but that Supreme Good of his is unshaken.
This is what I mean: there are external disadvantages, like pimples and boils that break out upon a body which is normally strong and sound; but there is no deep-seated malady.
He says: "Something will happen to hinder me."
No, not in the case of the man whose spirit, no matter what his business may be, is happy and alert. It is those who are still short of perfection whose happiness can be broken off; the joy of a wise man, on the other hand, is a woven fabric, rent by no chance happening and by no change of fortune; at all times and in all places he is at peace.
For his joy depends on nothing external and looks for no boon from man or fortune. His happiness is something within himself; it would depart from his soul if it entered in from the outside; it is born there.
Sometimes an external happening reminds him of his mortality, but it is a light blow, and merely grazes the surface of his skin. Some trouble, I repeat, may touch him like a breath of wind, but that Supreme Good of his is unshaken.
This is what I mean: there are external disadvantages, like pimples and boils that break out upon a body which is normally strong and sound; but there is no deep-seated malady.
—from Seneca, On Peace of Mind 72
We may assume that pragmatism demands a stress on the action, with a little time left over for some contemplation during the lulls in business, and yet this actually ends up being quite an unrealistic view of life.
No, the mind is constantly aware, so that the only question is whether our knowledge is sound or unsound, critical or lazy; the doing is constantly informed by the thinking, the hands being guided by a sense of meaning and purpose, for better or for worse.
I’m afraid that when “study” has become some sort of afterthought, as if I were cramming the night before the exam, or is reduced to a mere indulgence, tacked on for when it is convenient, I am sorely confused about who I am.
I need mindfulness at all times and in all things, to provide the very merit to those deeds, just as the attentive driver remembers to never take his hands from the wheel. I appreciate this image more and more, as I observe my fellow commuters on the road of life diverted by mobile phones, newspapers, or the consumption of elaborate meals.
My anxiety about what may or may not happen, and my sense of surprise when I slam into the car in front of me, are a consequence of my carelessness. Indeed, I can hardly predict the vagaries of fortune, and yet I always have it within my power to prepare myself, and to rely upon the strength of my own virtues. That I fret over the circumstances is proof of how I have failed to rightly distinguish the good from the bad.
Back in college, I would have sudden attacks of eczema, which were sometimes so severe that my face was transformed into a swollen, burning mess. I was already sensitive enough about my appearance, and this would drive me to despair about going out in public. The doctors never seemed to figure it out, and it eventually went away of its own accord, but the image remains with me as a lesson about priorities.
As Seneca says, the shell on the outside is being battered, while the dignity and the beauty on the inside can still remain constant; do what you will with the body, and the soul may shine all the more. I now think back to the feeling of that itching skin as a symbol of how a steady state of reflection is the key to a peace of mind.
We may assume that pragmatism demands a stress on the action, with a little time left over for some contemplation during the lulls in business, and yet this actually ends up being quite an unrealistic view of life.
No, the mind is constantly aware, so that the only question is whether our knowledge is sound or unsound, critical or lazy; the doing is constantly informed by the thinking, the hands being guided by a sense of meaning and purpose, for better or for worse.
I’m afraid that when “study” has become some sort of afterthought, as if I were cramming the night before the exam, or is reduced to a mere indulgence, tacked on for when it is convenient, I am sorely confused about who I am.
I need mindfulness at all times and in all things, to provide the very merit to those deeds, just as the attentive driver remembers to never take his hands from the wheel. I appreciate this image more and more, as I observe my fellow commuters on the road of life diverted by mobile phones, newspapers, or the consumption of elaborate meals.
My anxiety about what may or may not happen, and my sense of surprise when I slam into the car in front of me, are a consequence of my carelessness. Indeed, I can hardly predict the vagaries of fortune, and yet I always have it within my power to prepare myself, and to rely upon the strength of my own virtues. That I fret over the circumstances is proof of how I have failed to rightly distinguish the good from the bad.
Back in college, I would have sudden attacks of eczema, which were sometimes so severe that my face was transformed into a swollen, burning mess. I was already sensitive enough about my appearance, and this would drive me to despair about going out in public. The doctors never seemed to figure it out, and it eventually went away of its own accord, but the image remains with me as a lesson about priorities.
As Seneca says, the shell on the outside is being battered, while the dignity and the beauty on the inside can still remain constant; do what you will with the body, and the soul may shine all the more. I now think back to the feeling of that itching skin as a symbol of how a steady state of reflection is the key to a peace of mind.
—Reflection written in 9/2013
IMAGE: William Blake, Satan Smiting Job with Boils (1821)
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