It is a result of complaints like these that we are unappreciative in our comments upon the gifts of heaven; we complain because they are not always granted to us, because they are few and unsure and fleeting.
Hence we have not the will either to live or to die; we are possessed by hatred of life, by fear of death. Our plans are all at sea, and no amount of prosperity can satisfy us. And the reason for all this is that we have not yet attained to that good which is immeasurable and unsurpassable, in which all wishing on our part must cease, because there is no place beyond the highest.
Do you ask why virtue needs nothing? Because it is pleased with what it has, and does not lust after that which it has not. Whatever is enough is abundant in the eyes of virtue.
Dissent from this judgment, and duty and loyalty will not abide. For one who desires to exhibit these two qualities must endure much that the world calls evil; we must sacrifice many things to which we are addicted, thinking them to be goods.
Gone is courage, which should be continually testing itself; gone is greatness of soul, which cannot stand out clearly unless it has learned to scorn as trivial everything that the crowd covets as supremely important; and gone is kindness and the repaying of kindness, if we fear toil, if we have acknowledged anything to be more precious than loyalty, if our eyes are fixed upon anything except the best.
Hence we have not the will either to live or to die; we are possessed by hatred of life, by fear of death. Our plans are all at sea, and no amount of prosperity can satisfy us. And the reason for all this is that we have not yet attained to that good which is immeasurable and unsurpassable, in which all wishing on our part must cease, because there is no place beyond the highest.
Do you ask why virtue needs nothing? Because it is pleased with what it has, and does not lust after that which it has not. Whatever is enough is abundant in the eyes of virtue.
Dissent from this judgment, and duty and loyalty will not abide. For one who desires to exhibit these two qualities must endure much that the world calls evil; we must sacrifice many things to which we are addicted, thinking them to be goods.
Gone is courage, which should be continually testing itself; gone is greatness of soul, which cannot stand out clearly unless it has learned to scorn as trivial everything that the crowd covets as supremely important; and gone is kindness and the repaying of kindness, if we fear toil, if we have acknowledged anything to be more precious than loyalty, if our eyes are fixed upon anything except the best.
—from Seneca, Moral Letters 74
When I grumble about how I didn’t get what I wanted, did I first bother to ask about what I needed? My frustrations come from loving the wrong things, not from receiving the wrong things.
It took me some time to realize how many of our efforts are wasted on griping, and now I discipline myself to avoid whining about the whiners. It is enough for me to manage my own resentments, while offering a kind word to my neighbor who also struggles. Even a solidarity of silence is healthier than incessantly casting blame.
I long assumed that other people were far happier and more fulfilled than me, but I was allowing myself to be misled by the outer impressions. Once I got to know something more of their souls on the inside, I saw the very same anxiety and pain, all because we had lost our way.
We too easily forget who we are, and what we were made for, by seeking out a remedy in all the wrong places. If I am only tinkering with the accidents, while neglecting the very essence, I will never find peace.
The philosophy of it is simple, though it feels so formidable because its demands are absolute: as a creature of reason and will, I will achieve happiness, the fulfillment of my nature, by perfecting those powers. The rest is relative, becoming good or bad through the exercise of my judgments about whatever may happen.
To speak of virtue or honor may sound so stuffy, but what other terms can describe the pinnacle of human excellence? I suspect our apprehension about first and foremost being good people has to do with a fixation on the lower at the expense of the higher, a fear of risking an ascent from the base to the noble.
No, the virtuous man will not surrender to the vulgar, the lowest common denominator, because he chooses what is best, not what is easy. Without such a moral conviction, a man fails to freely embrace his total responsibility for himself, and so he can hardly practice any justice or compassion for others.
Each moment spent complaining could be better spent improving. When there is virtue in here, there is no threat from obstacles out there.
When I grumble about how I didn’t get what I wanted, did I first bother to ask about what I needed? My frustrations come from loving the wrong things, not from receiving the wrong things.
It took me some time to realize how many of our efforts are wasted on griping, and now I discipline myself to avoid whining about the whiners. It is enough for me to manage my own resentments, while offering a kind word to my neighbor who also struggles. Even a solidarity of silence is healthier than incessantly casting blame.
I long assumed that other people were far happier and more fulfilled than me, but I was allowing myself to be misled by the outer impressions. Once I got to know something more of their souls on the inside, I saw the very same anxiety and pain, all because we had lost our way.
We too easily forget who we are, and what we were made for, by seeking out a remedy in all the wrong places. If I am only tinkering with the accidents, while neglecting the very essence, I will never find peace.
The philosophy of it is simple, though it feels so formidable because its demands are absolute: as a creature of reason and will, I will achieve happiness, the fulfillment of my nature, by perfecting those powers. The rest is relative, becoming good or bad through the exercise of my judgments about whatever may happen.
To speak of virtue or honor may sound so stuffy, but what other terms can describe the pinnacle of human excellence? I suspect our apprehension about first and foremost being good people has to do with a fixation on the lower at the expense of the higher, a fear of risking an ascent from the base to the noble.
No, the virtuous man will not surrender to the vulgar, the lowest common denominator, because he chooses what is best, not what is easy. Without such a moral conviction, a man fails to freely embrace his total responsibility for himself, and so he can hardly practice any justice or compassion for others.
Each moment spent complaining could be better spent improving. When there is virtue in here, there is no threat from obstacles out there.
—Reflection written in 10/2013
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