Every man is troubled in spirit by evils that come suddenly upon his neighbor. Like birds, who cower even at the whirr of an empty sling, we are distracted by mere sounds as well as by blows.
No man therefore can be happy if he yields himself up to such foolish fancies. For nothing brings happiness unless it also brings calm; it is a bad sort of existence that is spent in apprehension.
Whoever has largely surrendered himself to the power of Fortune has made for himself a huge web of disquietude, from which he cannot get free; if one would win a way to safety, there is but one road—to despise externals and to be contented with that which is honorable.
For those who regard anything as better than virtue, or believe that there is any good except virtue, are spreading their arms to gather in that which Fortune tosses abroad, and are anxiously awaiting her favors.
No man therefore can be happy if he yields himself up to such foolish fancies. For nothing brings happiness unless it also brings calm; it is a bad sort of existence that is spent in apprehension.
Whoever has largely surrendered himself to the power of Fortune has made for himself a huge web of disquietude, from which he cannot get free; if one would win a way to safety, there is but one road—to despise externals and to be contented with that which is honorable.
For those who regard anything as better than virtue, or believe that there is any good except virtue, are spreading their arms to gather in that which Fortune tosses abroad, and are anxiously awaiting her favors.
—from Seneca, Moral Letters 74
My first real worry in life was that so many people seemed wicked, and this gradually led me to harboring deeper and deeper resentments. Then came a point when I saw the disorder within myself from blaming others for their disorders, a self-perpetuating cycle of frustration. Might it not be wiser to ask why any of us, whatever tribe we belong to, are inclined to feel so unsettled?
When I am anxious, it is ultimately from being in a state of discontent, a desire for something to finally bring me some peace of mind. If I had already held firm to what I truly needed, there would no longer be any fear or lust, and I could be relieved of the constant grasping and scheming. If the exercise of my own nature is enough, why must I make demands of you? If I know how happiness proceeds from my virtues, where is the lure of vice?
Nature has provided all that is required—it must simply be nurtured and cherished. But once I am jealous of his property, or I am diverted by her charms, I have enslaved myself to the circumstances, and there will be no end to the grief. One craving is replaced by another, because no escape to the outside can replace an emptiness on the inside. I remain forever flustered and jittery, unsure of when the amusements will fade.
Though I was once impressed by the important people, intimidated by their show of self-confidence, I slowly began to notice the cracks in the facade. Behind the bravado was nothing but stress, the combination of an insatiable appetite and a lingering terror: they witnessed their rivals falling around them, and they wondered when their turn would come. When they thought no one was looking, you could see the fatigue on their faces.
This calls for pity, not for admiration.
My first real worry in life was that so many people seemed wicked, and this gradually led me to harboring deeper and deeper resentments. Then came a point when I saw the disorder within myself from blaming others for their disorders, a self-perpetuating cycle of frustration. Might it not be wiser to ask why any of us, whatever tribe we belong to, are inclined to feel so unsettled?
When I am anxious, it is ultimately from being in a state of discontent, a desire for something to finally bring me some peace of mind. If I had already held firm to what I truly needed, there would no longer be any fear or lust, and I could be relieved of the constant grasping and scheming. If the exercise of my own nature is enough, why must I make demands of you? If I know how happiness proceeds from my virtues, where is the lure of vice?
Nature has provided all that is required—it must simply be nurtured and cherished. But once I am jealous of his property, or I am diverted by her charms, I have enslaved myself to the circumstances, and there will be no end to the grief. One craving is replaced by another, because no escape to the outside can replace an emptiness on the inside. I remain forever flustered and jittery, unsure of when the amusements will fade.
Though I was once impressed by the important people, intimidated by their show of self-confidence, I slowly began to notice the cracks in the facade. Behind the bravado was nothing but stress, the combination of an insatiable appetite and a lingering terror: they witnessed their rivals falling around them, and they wondered when their turn would come. When they thought no one was looking, you could see the fatigue on their faces.
This calls for pity, not for admiration.
—Reflection written in 10/2013
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