When you bow deeply to the Universe, it bows back; when you call out the name of God, it echoes inside you.
The Death of Marcus Aurelius
Monday, February 3, 2025
Seneca, Moral Letters 74.19
Just as in the body symptoms of latent ill-health precede the disease—there is, for example, a certain weak sluggishness, a lassitude which is not the result of any work, a trembling, and a shivering that pervades the limbs—so the feeble spirit is shaken by its ills a long time before it is overcome by them. It anticipates them, and totters before its time.
But what is greater madness than to be tortured by the future and not to save your strength for the actual suffering, but to invite and bring on wretchedness? If you cannot be rid of it, you ought at least to postpone it. Will you not understand that no man should be tormented by the future?
The man who has been told that he will have to endure torture fifty years from now is not disturbed thereby, unless he has leaped over the intervening years, and has projected himself into the trouble that is destined to arrive a generation later.
In the same way, souls that enjoy being sick and that seize upon excuses for sorrow are saddened by events long past and effaced from the records. Past and future are both absent; we feel neither of them. But there can be no pain except as the result of what you feel. Farewell.
But what is greater madness than to be tortured by the future and not to save your strength for the actual suffering, but to invite and bring on wretchedness? If you cannot be rid of it, you ought at least to postpone it. Will you not understand that no man should be tormented by the future?
The man who has been told that he will have to endure torture fifty years from now is not disturbed thereby, unless he has leaped over the intervening years, and has projected himself into the trouble that is destined to arrive a generation later.
In the same way, souls that enjoy being sick and that seize upon excuses for sorrow are saddened by events long past and effaced from the records. Past and future are both absent; we feel neither of them. But there can be no pain except as the result of what you feel. Farewell.
—from Seneca, Moral Letters 74
If there is something I can do about it, there is no need to worry, because I have the power to act right now.
If there is nothing I can do about it, there is no need to worry, because it will unfold as it will, in its own sweet time.
The gift of reason allows me to understand what is and to speculate on what could be, though that blessing can become a curse when I fret over anything beyond my control. It is both enlightening and humbling to realize how much time I have wasted on anxiety, when my efforts are always better directed at simply improving myself.
I spent almost two years unable to get a proper night’s sleep, haunted by the image of who my lost love might be gracing with her presence. This only ceased, from one day to the next, when I finally accepted the obvious, that no amount of hand-wringing would change how she felt, though my own attachments clearly followed from my own values.
The twinge has never quite left, like a poorly healed wound, but the crippling obsession is now behind me.
Almost two decades later, I am at a point where I have a fairly good sense of how the rest will play itself out, and though Fortune may still throw me a for a loop, my deliberate attention to living for the day, sometimes by the hour, has freed me from so much of my fear. While I suspect some of it will surely hurt, I know I have it within me to face my demons, even if I go it alone. At the very least, the discomfort will soon pass.
Seneca correctly observed how our malaise is self-imposed, almost as if we wish to suffer long before we actually have to suffer. The past is long gone, and the future is yet to come, and the tragic result is that we fuss over the unreal at the expense of the real, manufacturing a dread that blinds us to all that is immediately noble inside us.
I always retain my capacity for virtue, and there can be no greater comfort than that!
If there is something I can do about it, there is no need to worry, because I have the power to act right now.
If there is nothing I can do about it, there is no need to worry, because it will unfold as it will, in its own sweet time.
The gift of reason allows me to understand what is and to speculate on what could be, though that blessing can become a curse when I fret over anything beyond my control. It is both enlightening and humbling to realize how much time I have wasted on anxiety, when my efforts are always better directed at simply improving myself.
I spent almost two years unable to get a proper night’s sleep, haunted by the image of who my lost love might be gracing with her presence. This only ceased, from one day to the next, when I finally accepted the obvious, that no amount of hand-wringing would change how she felt, though my own attachments clearly followed from my own values.
The twinge has never quite left, like a poorly healed wound, but the crippling obsession is now behind me.
Almost two decades later, I am at a point where I have a fairly good sense of how the rest will play itself out, and though Fortune may still throw me a for a loop, my deliberate attention to living for the day, sometimes by the hour, has freed me from so much of my fear. While I suspect some of it will surely hurt, I know I have it within me to face my demons, even if I go it alone. At the very least, the discomfort will soon pass.
Seneca correctly observed how our malaise is self-imposed, almost as if we wish to suffer long before we actually have to suffer. The past is long gone, and the future is yet to come, and the tragic result is that we fuss over the unreal at the expense of the real, manufacturing a dread that blinds us to all that is immediately noble inside us.
I always retain my capacity for virtue, and there can be no greater comfort than that!
—Reflection written in 10/2013
Sunday, February 2, 2025
Sayings of Publilius Syrus 170
IMAGE: Frans Floris the Elder, Fall of the Rebel Angels (1554)
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Seneca, Moral Letters 74.18
"What," you ask, "will the wise man experience no emotion like disturbance of spirit? Will not his features change color, his countenance be agitated, and his limbs grow cold? And there are other things which we do, not under the influence of the will, but unconsciously and as the result of a sort of natural impulse."
I admit that this is true; but the sage will retain the firm belief that none of these things is evil, or important enough to make a healthy mind break down. Whatever shall remain to be done virtue can do with courage and readiness.
For anyone would admit that it is a mark of folly to do in a slothful and rebellious spirit whatever one has to do, or to direct the body in one direction and the mind in another, and thus to be torn between utterly conflicting emotions.
For folly is despised precisely because of the things for which she vaunts and admires herself, and she does not do gladly even those things in which she prides herself. But if folly fears some evil, she is burdened by it in the very moment of awaiting it, just as if it had actually come—already suffering in apprehension whatever she fears she may suffer.
I admit that this is true; but the sage will retain the firm belief that none of these things is evil, or important enough to make a healthy mind break down. Whatever shall remain to be done virtue can do with courage and readiness.
For anyone would admit that it is a mark of folly to do in a slothful and rebellious spirit whatever one has to do, or to direct the body in one direction and the mind in another, and thus to be torn between utterly conflicting emotions.
For folly is despised precisely because of the things for which she vaunts and admires herself, and she does not do gladly even those things in which she prides herself. But if folly fears some evil, she is burdened by it in the very moment of awaiting it, just as if it had actually come—already suffering in apprehension whatever she fears she may suffer.
—from Seneca, Moral Letters 74
The critic will continue to insist that the Stoic is vainly seeking to suppress his emotions, even as this has never been the case, and so we end up with a twisted caricature of the philosophy, a straw man sneaking his way into even the common dictionary definitions. If you have any affection for Stoicism, you will know how frustrating it is to forever be correcting this stereotype.
Of course, a man will feel, for his reason is made to work in conjunction with his impressions. Sometimes those feelings will be pleasant, and sometimes those feelings will be painful. Sometimes we seek them out deliberately, and sometimes they come to us unannounced. Whatever their peculiar form, however, the Stoic strives to be the master of his passions, understanding why his judgments will always determine his worth.
Lust, gratification, fear, and grief are all emotional states that enslave us, while joy, wish, and caution are all their healthy counterparts. Most importantly, perhaps, I should never surrender to any sort of distress, because each and every circumstance, however overwhelming it may appear, still offers the very same occasion for choosing virtue—I am my only obstacle to acting with dignity, and I am free to conquer my despair on my own terms.
For all my complaining, I honestly have yet to find a situation where prudence, fortitude, temperance, and justice did not have the sufficient power to tame my doubts. The conflict is within my thinking, not with anything out there in the world, such that I falsely attribute the good or the evil to the event, instead of my estimation about the event.
“But why would an all-powerful and an all-loving God allow me to suffer such great evils?”
It is when I finally realize how a hardship is not an evil that the scales can fall from my eyes. The evil is in my hesitation to make good out of the hardship.
The critic will continue to insist that the Stoic is vainly seeking to suppress his emotions, even as this has never been the case, and so we end up with a twisted caricature of the philosophy, a straw man sneaking his way into even the common dictionary definitions. If you have any affection for Stoicism, you will know how frustrating it is to forever be correcting this stereotype.
Of course, a man will feel, for his reason is made to work in conjunction with his impressions. Sometimes those feelings will be pleasant, and sometimes those feelings will be painful. Sometimes we seek them out deliberately, and sometimes they come to us unannounced. Whatever their peculiar form, however, the Stoic strives to be the master of his passions, understanding why his judgments will always determine his worth.
Lust, gratification, fear, and grief are all emotional states that enslave us, while joy, wish, and caution are all their healthy counterparts. Most importantly, perhaps, I should never surrender to any sort of distress, because each and every circumstance, however overwhelming it may appear, still offers the very same occasion for choosing virtue—I am my only obstacle to acting with dignity, and I am free to conquer my despair on my own terms.
For all my complaining, I honestly have yet to find a situation where prudence, fortitude, temperance, and justice did not have the sufficient power to tame my doubts. The conflict is within my thinking, not with anything out there in the world, such that I falsely attribute the good or the evil to the event, instead of my estimation about the event.
“But why would an all-powerful and an all-loving God allow me to suffer such great evils?”
It is when I finally realize how a hardship is not an evil that the scales can fall from my eyes. The evil is in my hesitation to make good out of the hardship.
—Reflection written in 10/2013
Saturday, February 1, 2025
Maxims of Goethe 62
It used to happen, and still happens, to me to take no pleasure in a work of art at the first sight of it, because it is too much for me; but if I suspect any merit in it, I try to get at it; and then I never fail to make the most gratifying discoveries—to find new qualities in the work itself and new faculties in myself.
Seneca, Moral Letters 74.17
The other answer, which I promised to make to your objection, follows from this reasoning. The wise man is not distressed by the loss of children or of friends. For he endures their death in the same spirit in which he awaits his own. And he fears the one as little as he grieves for the other. For the underlying principle of virtue is conformity; all the works of virtue are in harmony and agreement with virtue itself.
But this harmony is lost if the soul, which ought to be uplifted, is cast down by grief or a sense of loss. It is ever a dishonor for a man to be troubled and fretted, to be numbed when there is any call for activity. For that which is honorable is free from care and untrammeled, is unafraid, and stands girt for action.
But this harmony is lost if the soul, which ought to be uplifted, is cast down by grief or a sense of loss. It is ever a dishonor for a man to be troubled and fretted, to be numbed when there is any call for activity. For that which is honorable is free from care and untrammeled, is unafraid, and stands girt for action.
—from Seneca, Moral Letters 74
We can fall into a creeping cynicism, where we suppose that life must aways be wretched, and “getting used to it” remains the only option. It doesn’t help when feeling sorry for ourselves becomes a mark of pride, and cultivating the image of the romantic victim, complete with a dramatic drinking problem, is a sort of desperate release valve.
Loss will be necessary, but the suffering is optional—bad feelings are the consequences of bad thinking. It may sound heartless for the Stoic to say that we need not grieve, but it begins to make more sense once we choose to be responsible for ourselves, instead of letting happiness come and go with the changes in the weather.
Post-modern man has a knack for letting his passions run away from his reason, and so he is inclined to glorify his despair. If only he realized how his emotions are informed with meaning and purpose by his judgments, he could also discover how to no longer feed his most unhealthy moods.
Just as lust can be healed by love, or fear can be tamed by understanding, so grief can be transformed into acceptance. That she is gone, with no prospect of ever returning, is now an opportunity to act with greater conviction, and stands as proof of how much I care, not as some denial of her significance. This is why the good man seeks the virtue in harmony, never wallowing in the vice of conflict.
If Providence has permitted it, how might I learn to work together with Nature? In each case, I have the power to master myself, and to proudly serve the order of the whole. Where there is true love, there will be a mutual encouragement in such a task, with no place for any resentment or regret.
We can fall into a creeping cynicism, where we suppose that life must aways be wretched, and “getting used to it” remains the only option. It doesn’t help when feeling sorry for ourselves becomes a mark of pride, and cultivating the image of the romantic victim, complete with a dramatic drinking problem, is a sort of desperate release valve.
Loss will be necessary, but the suffering is optional—bad feelings are the consequences of bad thinking. It may sound heartless for the Stoic to say that we need not grieve, but it begins to make more sense once we choose to be responsible for ourselves, instead of letting happiness come and go with the changes in the weather.
Post-modern man has a knack for letting his passions run away from his reason, and so he is inclined to glorify his despair. If only he realized how his emotions are informed with meaning and purpose by his judgments, he could also discover how to no longer feed his most unhealthy moods.
Just as lust can be healed by love, or fear can be tamed by understanding, so grief can be transformed into acceptance. That she is gone, with no prospect of ever returning, is now an opportunity to act with greater conviction, and stands as proof of how much I care, not as some denial of her significance. This is why the good man seeks the virtue in harmony, never wallowing in the vice of conflict.
If Providence has permitted it, how might I learn to work together with Nature? In each case, I have the power to master myself, and to proudly serve the order of the whole. Where there is true love, there will be a mutual encouragement in such a task, with no place for any resentment or regret.
—Reflection written in 10/2013
IMAGE: Edmund Leighton, God Speed (1900)
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