Therefore, the philosopher thinks of the person who makes it possible for him to use and enjoy these things, of the person who exempts him when the state's dire need summons to arms, to sentry duty, to the defense of the walls, and to the manifold exactions of war; and he gives thanks to the helmsman of his state.
This is what philosophy teaches most of all—honorably to avow the debt of benefits received, and honorably to pay them; sometimes, however, the acknowledgment itself constitutes payment.
Our philosopher will therefore acknowledge that he owes a large debt to the ruler who makes it possible, by his management and foresight, for him to enjoy rich leisure, control of his own time, and a tranquility uninterrupted by public employments.
“Shepherd! a god this leisure gave to me,
For he shall be my god eternally.”
And if even such leisure as that of our poet owes a great debt to its author, though its greatest boon is this:
“As thou canst see,
He let me turn my cattle out to feed,
And play what fancy pleased on rustic reed;”
how highly are we to value this leisure of the philosopher, which is spent among the gods, and makes us gods? Yes, that is what I mean, Lucilius; and I invite you to heaven by a short cut.
This is what philosophy teaches most of all—honorably to avow the debt of benefits received, and honorably to pay them; sometimes, however, the acknowledgment itself constitutes payment.
Our philosopher will therefore acknowledge that he owes a large debt to the ruler who makes it possible, by his management and foresight, for him to enjoy rich leisure, control of his own time, and a tranquility uninterrupted by public employments.
“Shepherd! a god this leisure gave to me,
For he shall be my god eternally.”
And if even such leisure as that of our poet owes a great debt to its author, though its greatest boon is this:
“As thou canst see,
He let me turn my cattle out to feed,
And play what fancy pleased on rustic reed;”
how highly are we to value this leisure of the philosopher, which is spent among the gods, and makes us gods? Yes, that is what I mean, Lucilius; and I invite you to heaven by a short cut.
—from Seneca, Moral Letters 73
If you still came from a down-to-earth family, you may recall your father telling you to be grateful for the freedoms you possessed, almost as often as your mother told you how there were starving children in other parts of the world. Though you rolled your eyes, you knew that they were right.
It is so easy to confuse a gift with an entitlement, and so to focus on the receiving instead of the giving. The Stoic Turn is a remedy for such a complacency, where angry demands are replaced by sincere thanks, a recognition of how Providence has granted us all the blessings we could ever need, if only we choose to recognize the true source of the human good.
Whatever the degree of the authority, from the cop on the corner up to the Divine Absolute, I always try to be conscious of the opportunities for improvement I am offered on their watch. The wicked master can, of course, also be an occasion for the virtues, by presenting a mighty obstacle to be boldly overcome, but what a soothing boon it is to know that someone has already cleared the path and lightened my load!
In the past, I would have worried about the wolves killing my sheep, or how to irrigate my crops, or the threat of those brigands coming down from the hills. In my own time, I fret over paying my bills, keeping hold of a job, and the restrictions from a crippling bureaucracy. When someone relieves me of these burdens, in however small a way, I am now allowed more room to attend to my soul, in the peace and quiet it so desperately craves.
I may only have my appreciation to offer as a payment, but for a good ruler, that will be enough of a compensation. For the many scoundrels who have bossed me around, I think of a teacher, or a pastor, or a civil servant who went out of his way to rid me of my fears. The best sovereignty is that which protects liberty, the hand that chooses to permit before it restricts.
I am quite aware that my own case is hardly a good example for much of anything, because my temperament and values are so out of the norm. Nevertheless, when I reflect on the sort of profession that would have suited me best, I invariably return to the life of a shepherd. While the work is not easy, I long for the release of a mind without fetters.
If you still came from a down-to-earth family, you may recall your father telling you to be grateful for the freedoms you possessed, almost as often as your mother told you how there were starving children in other parts of the world. Though you rolled your eyes, you knew that they were right.
It is so easy to confuse a gift with an entitlement, and so to focus on the receiving instead of the giving. The Stoic Turn is a remedy for such a complacency, where angry demands are replaced by sincere thanks, a recognition of how Providence has granted us all the blessings we could ever need, if only we choose to recognize the true source of the human good.
Whatever the degree of the authority, from the cop on the corner up to the Divine Absolute, I always try to be conscious of the opportunities for improvement I am offered on their watch. The wicked master can, of course, also be an occasion for the virtues, by presenting a mighty obstacle to be boldly overcome, but what a soothing boon it is to know that someone has already cleared the path and lightened my load!
In the past, I would have worried about the wolves killing my sheep, or how to irrigate my crops, or the threat of those brigands coming down from the hills. In my own time, I fret over paying my bills, keeping hold of a job, and the restrictions from a crippling bureaucracy. When someone relieves me of these burdens, in however small a way, I am now allowed more room to attend to my soul, in the peace and quiet it so desperately craves.
I may only have my appreciation to offer as a payment, but for a good ruler, that will be enough of a compensation. For the many scoundrels who have bossed me around, I think of a teacher, or a pastor, or a civil servant who went out of his way to rid me of my fears. The best sovereignty is that which protects liberty, the hand that chooses to permit before it restricts.
I am quite aware that my own case is hardly a good example for much of anything, because my temperament and values are so out of the norm. Nevertheless, when I reflect on the sort of profession that would have suited me best, I invariably return to the life of a shepherd. While the work is not easy, I long for the release of a mind without fetters.
—Reflection written in 9/2013
IMAGE: Frederik Vermehren, A Jutland Shepherd on the Moors (1855)
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