Similarly with the gifts which Fortune tosses down to us: wretches that we are, we become excited, we are torn asunder, we wish that we had many hands, we look back now in this direction and now in that.
All too slowly, as it seems, are the gifts thrown in our direction; they merely excite our cravings, since they can reach but few and are awaited by all. We are keen to intercept them as they fall down. We rejoice if we have laid hold of anything; and some have been mocked by the idle hope of laying hold; we have either paid a high price for worthless plunder with some disadvantage to ourselves, or else have been defrauded and are left in the lurch.
Let us therefore withdraw from a game like this, and give way to the greedy rabble; let them gaze after such "goods”, which hang suspended above them, and be themselves still more in suspense.
Whoever makes up his mind to be happy should conclude that the good consists only in that which is honorable. For if he regards anything else as good, he is, in the first place, passing an unfavorable judgment upon Providence because of the fact that upright men often suffer misfortunes, and that the time which is allotted to us is but short and scanty, if you compare it with the eternity which is allotted to the Universe.
All too slowly, as it seems, are the gifts thrown in our direction; they merely excite our cravings, since they can reach but few and are awaited by all. We are keen to intercept them as they fall down. We rejoice if we have laid hold of anything; and some have been mocked by the idle hope of laying hold; we have either paid a high price for worthless plunder with some disadvantage to ourselves, or else have been defrauded and are left in the lurch.
Let us therefore withdraw from a game like this, and give way to the greedy rabble; let them gaze after such "goods”, which hang suspended above them, and be themselves still more in suspense.
Whoever makes up his mind to be happy should conclude that the good consists only in that which is honorable. For if he regards anything else as good, he is, in the first place, passing an unfavorable judgment upon Providence because of the fact that upright men often suffer misfortunes, and that the time which is allotted to us is but short and scanty, if you compare it with the eternity which is allotted to the Universe.
—from Seneca, Moral Letters 74
Yesterday, I read some lines by one of the “modern” Stoics on the internet, a fellow who is sadly still caught up in courting Fortune: “If you change your attitude, you can build your empire!”
For a brief moment, I hoped he might be talking about a sovereignty over his own soul, but he promptly bragged about how his self-confidence had won him a promotion at work. He’s quite right to pursue a transformation of thinking, even as he hasn’t yet overcome his dependence on the circumstances.
True honor, which is a commitment to virtue for virtue’s sake, does not beg for trophies or titillations. As tough as the hustler would like to appear, he is always at the mercy of opinions and happenstance. When he can no longer charm the crowd, he is suddenly on his own. When Nature throws him a curveball, he is unceremoniously cut from the team. Even when his ducks do happen to be in a row, he must guard over them constantly, lest they wander away.
If I find myself too impressed by the promises of the rat race, I imagine the whole affair to the soundtrack of a Benny Hill skit, and I can then promptly feel at ease. If I am in a more cultured mood, I gaze upon a copy of Balthazar Nebot’s Allegory of Fortune, and I am relieved not to be a part of the mob. For people who are supposedly in a state of bliss, don’t they appear rather miserable?
A few years ago, I went to see one of my favorite musicians, former Marillion frontman Fish, for an appearance at a local record store. After he finished telling his engaging anecdotes, he mentioned that he had a few signed copies of his latest release to give away. In an instant, I was jostling my way forward and thrusting out my hand, together with a few dozen other rabid fans.
I then felt a bitter shame, and I retreated from the scrum.
“What, don’t you want one?” a fellow yelled at me. “It’s the limited-edition double disc!”
“No, thank you, I don’t want it that much.”
Now you may say that pushing through a crowd for a rare freebie is hardly a mortal sin, but it wasn’t really about the album, was it? For me, it was about practicing some basic human decency and exercising a touch of self-restraint. Who would have thought Seneca could rub off on me like that?
Rapacious men blame the world when they don’t get what they want, and they are still aggrieved when they do get what they want. They tussle over cheap baubles. I no longer wish to remain in the company of such men.
Yesterday, I read some lines by one of the “modern” Stoics on the internet, a fellow who is sadly still caught up in courting Fortune: “If you change your attitude, you can build your empire!”
For a brief moment, I hoped he might be talking about a sovereignty over his own soul, but he promptly bragged about how his self-confidence had won him a promotion at work. He’s quite right to pursue a transformation of thinking, even as he hasn’t yet overcome his dependence on the circumstances.
True honor, which is a commitment to virtue for virtue’s sake, does not beg for trophies or titillations. As tough as the hustler would like to appear, he is always at the mercy of opinions and happenstance. When he can no longer charm the crowd, he is suddenly on his own. When Nature throws him a curveball, he is unceremoniously cut from the team. Even when his ducks do happen to be in a row, he must guard over them constantly, lest they wander away.
If I find myself too impressed by the promises of the rat race, I imagine the whole affair to the soundtrack of a Benny Hill skit, and I can then promptly feel at ease. If I am in a more cultured mood, I gaze upon a copy of Balthazar Nebot’s Allegory of Fortune, and I am relieved not to be a part of the mob. For people who are supposedly in a state of bliss, don’t they appear rather miserable?
A few years ago, I went to see one of my favorite musicians, former Marillion frontman Fish, for an appearance at a local record store. After he finished telling his engaging anecdotes, he mentioned that he had a few signed copies of his latest release to give away. In an instant, I was jostling my way forward and thrusting out my hand, together with a few dozen other rabid fans.
I then felt a bitter shame, and I retreated from the scrum.
“What, don’t you want one?” a fellow yelled at me. “It’s the limited-edition double disc!”
“No, thank you, I don’t want it that much.”
Now you may say that pushing through a crowd for a rare freebie is hardly a mortal sin, but it wasn’t really about the album, was it? For me, it was about practicing some basic human decency and exercising a touch of self-restraint. Who would have thought Seneca could rub off on me like that?
Rapacious men blame the world when they don’t get what they want, and they are still aggrieved when they do get what they want. They tussle over cheap baubles. I no longer wish to remain in the company of such men.
—Reflection written in 10/2013
IMAGE: Balthazar Nebot, Allegory of Fortune (c. 1730)
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