You will readily recall those who have been driven into exile and dispossessed of their property. You will also recall (and this is the most serious kind of destitution) those who are poor in the midst of their riches.
You will recall men who have suffered shipwreck, or those whose sufferings resemble shipwreck; for they were untroubled and at ease, when the anger or perhaps the envy of the populace—a missile most deadly to those in high places—dismantled them like a storm which is wont to rise when one is most confident of continued calm, or like a sudden stroke of lightning which even causes the region round about it to tremble.
For just as anyone who stands near the bolt is stunned and resembles one who is struck, so in these sudden and violent mishaps, although but one person is overwhelmed by the disaster, the rest are overwhelmed by fear, and the possibility that they may suffer makes them as downcast as the actual sufferer.
You will recall men who have suffered shipwreck, or those whose sufferings resemble shipwreck; for they were untroubled and at ease, when the anger or perhaps the envy of the populace—a missile most deadly to those in high places—dismantled them like a storm which is wont to rise when one is most confident of continued calm, or like a sudden stroke of lightning which even causes the region round about it to tremble.
For just as anyone who stands near the bolt is stunned and resembles one who is struck, so in these sudden and violent mishaps, although but one person is overwhelmed by the disaster, the rest are overwhelmed by fear, and the possibility that they may suffer makes them as downcast as the actual sufferer.
—from Seneca, Moral Letters 74
We are trained to believe that we will be happy when we “have” plenty, and miserable when we are in a state of want, but the Stoics understood why serenity is not subject to riches or poverty, fame or disgrace, even pleasure or pain. When we do not center ourselves on the content of character, both the presence and the absence of worldly prosperity will make us restless.
I have known a few extremely rich people, along with a good number of extremely poor people, and beyond the accidents of immediate utility, I have slowly discovered how their possessions most certainly did not determine their peace of mind. In my own neck of the woods, far less grand in scale, the security of money in the bank was pointless without the direction of a moral compass, and moments of incredible hardship actually became blessings when I chose to inform my conscience.
The problem with a reliance on fortune is that merely the fear of losing our affluence is enough to leave us crippled. As much as I assure myself of a firm grip on my circumstances, there always remains the nagging worry about seeing them disappear. Whatever shall I do when my conveniences have slipped away? If only I had found comfort in what was exclusively mine, I would have no need to fret.
However much I try to deceive myself, I know full well how much Nature delights in change. When might the storm come my way? Even when the lightning strikes my neighbor, I cannot help but shudder. This is not the sort of life I was made to live, always on my guard. To think that I commanded an impenetrable fortress this entire time!
For many years, there were two dogs living in the house behind us, who were startled whenever the wind blew through the branches, and they barked frantically if a squirrel climbed his way up a tree. They paced back and forth, incessantly panting, and I can only imagine the living hell their existence must have been.
Once I grew up, I sadly recognized that same anxiety in the scurrying humans all around me.
—Reflection written in 10/2013
IMAGE: Eugene Delacroix, Horse Frightened by a Thunderstorm (c. 1824)
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