Attalus used to employ the following simile:
"Did you ever see a dog snapping with wide-open jaws at bits of bread or meat which his master tosses to him? Whatever he catches, he straightway swallows whole, and always opens his jaws in the hope of something more.
“So it is with ourselves; we stand expectant, and whatever Fortune has thrown to us we forthwith bolt, without any real pleasure, and then stand alert and frantic for something else to snatch."
But it is not so with the wise man; he is satisfied. Even if something falls to him, he merely accepts it carelessly and lays it aside.
The happiness that he enjoys is supremely great, is lasting, is his own. Assume that a man has good intentions, and has made progress, but is still far from the heights: the result is a series of ups and downs; he is now raised to heaven, now brought down to earth.
For those who lack experience and training, there is no limit to the downhill course; such a one falls into the Chaos of Epicurus—empty and boundless.
There is still a third class of men—those who toy with wisdom; they have not indeed touched it, but yet are in sight of it, and have it, so to speak, within striking distance. They are not dashed about, nor do they drift back either; they are not on dry land, but are already in port.
"Did you ever see a dog snapping with wide-open jaws at bits of bread or meat which his master tosses to him? Whatever he catches, he straightway swallows whole, and always opens his jaws in the hope of something more.
“So it is with ourselves; we stand expectant, and whatever Fortune has thrown to us we forthwith bolt, without any real pleasure, and then stand alert and frantic for something else to snatch."
But it is not so with the wise man; he is satisfied. Even if something falls to him, he merely accepts it carelessly and lays it aside.
The happiness that he enjoys is supremely great, is lasting, is his own. Assume that a man has good intentions, and has made progress, but is still far from the heights: the result is a series of ups and downs; he is now raised to heaven, now brought down to earth.
For those who lack experience and training, there is no limit to the downhill course; such a one falls into the Chaos of Epicurus—empty and boundless.
There is still a third class of men—those who toy with wisdom; they have not indeed touched it, but yet are in sight of it, and have it, so to speak, within striking distance. They are not dashed about, nor do they drift back either; they are not on dry land, but are already in port.
—from Seneca, Moral Letters 72
What usually passes for business, without much reflection, is little more than the accumulation of profit. Philosophy, of course, is given no consideration whatsoever, because when have wisdom or virtue ever increased our wealth, fame, or gratification? Observe very carefully where a man places his priorities, and you will learn fairly quickly whether he is guided by character or by convenience, ruled by love or by lust.
The poor dog cannot help himself, and he depends on receiving proper training from his master, but a man can most certainly help himself, since his reason grants him the power to be his own master. It is natural for the former to be determined by his instincts alone, while it is unnatural for the latter to act without the direction of understanding.
I do wish the writings of Attalus had survived, for one can clearly sense the profound impact his teachings had on Seneca. I suspect he was a bit rougher around the edges than his more refined student, perhaps a kindred spirit to Musonius Rufus, and I can immediately relate to his example of the human devolving into the bestial. I know exactly how it feels to be enslaved by the mindless desire to consume, a craving that can sadly never come to any completion.
Once I define myself by grasping for external satisfaction, I have trapped myself in an endless cycle of wanting ever more and more, since nothing from Fortune can fulfill the internal perfection of Nature. A surefire sign of this obsession is my constant need to consume voraciously, without any appreciation or joy, and quickly move on the next conquest. How could it ever be enough, when I am attempting to satisfy an essential need with some accidental greed?
If, however, it is truly mine, then nothing can ever be added, and nothing can ever be taken away. Some will see the wise man, and because of their own grasping habits, will assume that he is cold and unfeeling. No, he is at peace with himself, and so he does not clamor for treats and trinkets: he understands why his vocation is to be human, not to be a hustler.
If I continue to be tossed about by my circumstances, I have failed to know myself, remaining focused on business instead of philosophy. Even when some progress has been made in self-awareness, there will be that intensely frustrating state of standing “in between”, convinced in part of a need for a radical transformation, but still hesitant to take the final step. I must not permit this to let me relapse into my mindless habits—the difficulty is itself a mark of improvement, which cannot be achieved without growing pains.
I am not yet wise, though I have perceived just enough of the benefits from wisdom that I am no longer a mere brute, that I am called to so much more. Courage!
What usually passes for business, without much reflection, is little more than the accumulation of profit. Philosophy, of course, is given no consideration whatsoever, because when have wisdom or virtue ever increased our wealth, fame, or gratification? Observe very carefully where a man places his priorities, and you will learn fairly quickly whether he is guided by character or by convenience, ruled by love or by lust.
The poor dog cannot help himself, and he depends on receiving proper training from his master, but a man can most certainly help himself, since his reason grants him the power to be his own master. It is natural for the former to be determined by his instincts alone, while it is unnatural for the latter to act without the direction of understanding.
I do wish the writings of Attalus had survived, for one can clearly sense the profound impact his teachings had on Seneca. I suspect he was a bit rougher around the edges than his more refined student, perhaps a kindred spirit to Musonius Rufus, and I can immediately relate to his example of the human devolving into the bestial. I know exactly how it feels to be enslaved by the mindless desire to consume, a craving that can sadly never come to any completion.
Once I define myself by grasping for external satisfaction, I have trapped myself in an endless cycle of wanting ever more and more, since nothing from Fortune can fulfill the internal perfection of Nature. A surefire sign of this obsession is my constant need to consume voraciously, without any appreciation or joy, and quickly move on the next conquest. How could it ever be enough, when I am attempting to satisfy an essential need with some accidental greed?
If, however, it is truly mine, then nothing can ever be added, and nothing can ever be taken away. Some will see the wise man, and because of their own grasping habits, will assume that he is cold and unfeeling. No, he is at peace with himself, and so he does not clamor for treats and trinkets: he understands why his vocation is to be human, not to be a hustler.
If I continue to be tossed about by my circumstances, I have failed to know myself, remaining focused on business instead of philosophy. Even when some progress has been made in self-awareness, there will be that intensely frustrating state of standing “in between”, convinced in part of a need for a radical transformation, but still hesitant to take the final step. I must not permit this to let me relapse into my mindless habits—the difficulty is itself a mark of improvement, which cannot be achieved without growing pains.
I am not yet wise, though I have perceived just enough of the benefits from wisdom that I am no longer a mere brute, that I am called to so much more. Courage!
—Reflection written in 9/2013
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