None of those whom you behold clad in purple are happy, any more than one of these actors upon whom the play bestows a scepter and a cloak while on the stage; they strut their hour before a crowded house, with swelling port and buskined foot; but when once they make their exit the footgear is removed and they return to their proper stature.
None of those who have been raised to a loftier height by riches and honors are really great. Why then does he seem great to you? It is because you are measuring the pedestal along with the man. A dwarf is not tall, though he stands upon a mountaintop; a colossal statue will still be tall, though you place it in a well.
This is the error under which we labor; this is the reason why we are imposed upon: we value no man at what he is, but add to the man himself the trappings in which he is clothed.
But when you wish to inquire into a man’s true worth, and to know what manner of man he is, look at him when he is naked; make him lay aside his inherited estate, his titles, and the other deceptions of fortune; let him even strip off his body. Consider his soul, its quality and its stature, and thus learn whether its greatness is borrowed, or its own.
None of those who have been raised to a loftier height by riches and honors are really great. Why then does he seem great to you? It is because you are measuring the pedestal along with the man. A dwarf is not tall, though he stands upon a mountaintop; a colossal statue will still be tall, though you place it in a well.
This is the error under which we labor; this is the reason why we are imposed upon: we value no man at what he is, but add to the man himself the trappings in which he is clothed.
But when you wish to inquire into a man’s true worth, and to know what manner of man he is, look at him when he is naked; make him lay aside his inherited estate, his titles, and the other deceptions of fortune; let him even strip off his body. Consider his soul, its quality and its stature, and thus learn whether its greatness is borrowed, or its own.
—from Seneca, Moral Letters 76
One of the greatest barriers to pursuing virtue as my sole good is the constant barrage of alluring impressions, especially those false promises of fortune and fame. Even though I am an awkward, sheepish, and eccentric fellow, I will still catch myself envying the rich, admiring the celebrities, and enthralled by the charming. It just goes to show how the bad habits will outstay their welcome, because it is always easier to stand back than to move ahead.
It helps me to remember that so much of what passes for our public lives is actually an elaborate ruse, like a magic trick performed with smoke and mirrors. It is considered bad manners to say this out loud, but our confusion about our true worth leads us to desperately seek approval from the outside, and so we put on a vain act, ashamed of who we are on the inside. There is no malice in it, only despair.
Remove the disguises we wear, both at work and at play, and you will soon discover that the accessories of wealth, power, and reputation do absolutely nothing to make us any better or happier. The genuine character is then revealed, for better or for worse, and while the scoundrel might hang his head in shame, the sage is oblivious to his nakedness, indifferent to the whims of popular opinion.
On the occasions when I have gotten to know some of the “important” folks, I have seen the bubbles burst. Behind the masks, they are as fragile as the rest of us, and in many cases, their privileges merely encouraged their foibles. The politician was consumed by rage. The captain of industry was like a child screaming for attention. The priest tried to conceal his lust. The beauty queen cried because she was alone.
I do not need to be worship them, nor should I make excuses to despise them. It is only when I recognize the plain essence of a shared humanity, stripped of all the ornate decorations, that I can resist the temptation to judge either myself or others by any fancified accidents. The authentic soul is the great soul.
One of the greatest barriers to pursuing virtue as my sole good is the constant barrage of alluring impressions, especially those false promises of fortune and fame. Even though I am an awkward, sheepish, and eccentric fellow, I will still catch myself envying the rich, admiring the celebrities, and enthralled by the charming. It just goes to show how the bad habits will outstay their welcome, because it is always easier to stand back than to move ahead.
It helps me to remember that so much of what passes for our public lives is actually an elaborate ruse, like a magic trick performed with smoke and mirrors. It is considered bad manners to say this out loud, but our confusion about our true worth leads us to desperately seek approval from the outside, and so we put on a vain act, ashamed of who we are on the inside. There is no malice in it, only despair.
Remove the disguises we wear, both at work and at play, and you will soon discover that the accessories of wealth, power, and reputation do absolutely nothing to make us any better or happier. The genuine character is then revealed, for better or for worse, and while the scoundrel might hang his head in shame, the sage is oblivious to his nakedness, indifferent to the whims of popular opinion.
On the occasions when I have gotten to know some of the “important” folks, I have seen the bubbles burst. Behind the masks, they are as fragile as the rest of us, and in many cases, their privileges merely encouraged their foibles. The politician was consumed by rage. The captain of industry was like a child screaming for attention. The priest tried to conceal his lust. The beauty queen cried because she was alone.
I do not need to be worship them, nor should I make excuses to despise them. It is only when I recognize the plain essence of a shared humanity, stripped of all the ornate decorations, that I can resist the temptation to judge either myself or others by any fancified accidents. The authentic soul is the great soul.
—Reflection written in 10/2013
IMAGE: Mihaly Zichy, Performance in the Bolhsoi Theatre (1856)
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