If a man can behold with unflinching eyes the flash of a sword, if he knows that it makes no difference to him whether his soul takes flight through his mouth or through a wound in his throat, you may call him happy; you may also call him happy if, when he is threatened with bodily torture, whether it be the result of accident or of the might of the stronger, he can without concern hear talk of chains, or of exile, or of all the idle fears that stir men’s minds, and can say:
“O maiden, no new sudden form of toil
I have forestalled and surveyed everything.”
Today it is you who threaten me with these terrors; but I have always threatened myself with them, and have prepared myself as a man to meet man’s destiny.
If an evil has been pondered beforehand, the blow is gentle when it comes. To the fool, however, and to him who trusts in fortune, each event as it arrives “comes in a new and sudden form,” and a large part of evil, to the inexperienced, consists in its novelty.
This is proved by the fact that men endure with greater courage, when they have once become accustomed to them, the things which they had at first regarded as hardships.
Hence, the wise man accustoms himself to coming trouble, lightening by long reflection the evils which others lighten by long endurance.
We sometimes hear the inexperienced say: “I knew that this was in store for me.”
But the wise man knows that all things are in store for him. Whatever happens, he says: “I knew it.” Farewell.
“O maiden, no new sudden form of toil
I have forestalled and surveyed everything.”
Today it is you who threaten me with these terrors; but I have always threatened myself with them, and have prepared myself as a man to meet man’s destiny.
If an evil has been pondered beforehand, the blow is gentle when it comes. To the fool, however, and to him who trusts in fortune, each event as it arrives “comes in a new and sudden form,” and a large part of evil, to the inexperienced, consists in its novelty.
This is proved by the fact that men endure with greater courage, when they have once become accustomed to them, the things which they had at first regarded as hardships.
Hence, the wise man accustoms himself to coming trouble, lightening by long reflection the evils which others lighten by long endurance.
We sometimes hear the inexperienced say: “I knew that this was in store for me.”
But the wise man knows that all things are in store for him. Whatever happens, he says: “I knew it.” Farewell.
—from Seneca, Moral Letters 76
I have a markedly sensitive disposition, so Stoicism would, at first glance, hardly seem a good fit for me. You will not inspire me with calls to toughness, and I am unsuited to the way of the warrior; all that bravado about a glorious death, or the gritty endurance of torture, will sadly leave me cold.
Yet while I am not a man’s man, I have also learned how Stoicism has never been a creed of brute strength, but rather a calling to serenity. The steely resolve that may appear on the outside is actually the result of a refined understanding on the inside, and I should not assume that constancy implies heartlessness. While some will repress their feelings, and others will be swept away by their feelings, the Stoic will become the master of his feelings.
Should I fear the sword, or the rack, or any of the torments in this life? When willpower alone fails to quell the dread, it is then time to modify my very judgments, to reconsider what I even mean by benefit or harm. Let the impressions have their say, and then let the mind offer its verdict—this cannot truly injure me, as long as my virtues remain intact.
Once I know where to find my good, the way I feel is now put in its proper context; both the pleasant and the painful can now be transformed through purpose, into an excellence of character that is unassailable. And with that kind of awareness, it now makes sense why hardship need not be an obstacle to happiness, but can become an occasion for happiness: so little is lost, and so much is gained!
In simpler terms, I don’t have to be the enraged guy in order to overcome fear. I can be the loving guy in order to overcome fear. I think of those who used their distress to offer compassion.
I should not seek out adversity, but I should accept it willingly, and I should prepare myself for it, conscious of its deeper significance as a means for self-improvement, and mindful of how Fortune is a fickle mistress. If I cannot determine the way of the word, I can certainly determine my own response, ready to face with dignity whatever life sends my way.
As much as this may sound cynical to the critic, a jaded surrender to Murphys’ Law, I suggest that it is rather an expression of a committed faith in the human capacity to do what is right, under any conditions. It will do me little good to be ready for the most routine nuisances, when it is always the earth-shattering catastrophes that truly put me to the test. Until the wolf came along, those other little pigs laughed at the one who had thought ahead.
Habit is a potent force, far too often underestimated, so it is better for me to consider when it will happen, not merely if it will happen. Then I am armed against any threat, not with the foolish confidence that I will destroy my foe, but with the calm assurance that I can retain the integrity of my conscience. My actions, and not my circumstances, are what reflect on me.
Having already experienced more than his fair share of tragedies before visiting the underworld, Aeneas was not speaking out of despair. He knew his calling, and he had steeled himself for any possibility. Though they made little sense to me back then, the torments from my darkest days have now become the foundation for my endurance. It is better to learn this lesson in old age, than to have never learned it at all.
I have a markedly sensitive disposition, so Stoicism would, at first glance, hardly seem a good fit for me. You will not inspire me with calls to toughness, and I am unsuited to the way of the warrior; all that bravado about a glorious death, or the gritty endurance of torture, will sadly leave me cold.
Yet while I am not a man’s man, I have also learned how Stoicism has never been a creed of brute strength, but rather a calling to serenity. The steely resolve that may appear on the outside is actually the result of a refined understanding on the inside, and I should not assume that constancy implies heartlessness. While some will repress their feelings, and others will be swept away by their feelings, the Stoic will become the master of his feelings.
Should I fear the sword, or the rack, or any of the torments in this life? When willpower alone fails to quell the dread, it is then time to modify my very judgments, to reconsider what I even mean by benefit or harm. Let the impressions have their say, and then let the mind offer its verdict—this cannot truly injure me, as long as my virtues remain intact.
Once I know where to find my good, the way I feel is now put in its proper context; both the pleasant and the painful can now be transformed through purpose, into an excellence of character that is unassailable. And with that kind of awareness, it now makes sense why hardship need not be an obstacle to happiness, but can become an occasion for happiness: so little is lost, and so much is gained!
In simpler terms, I don’t have to be the enraged guy in order to overcome fear. I can be the loving guy in order to overcome fear. I think of those who used their distress to offer compassion.
I should not seek out adversity, but I should accept it willingly, and I should prepare myself for it, conscious of its deeper significance as a means for self-improvement, and mindful of how Fortune is a fickle mistress. If I cannot determine the way of the word, I can certainly determine my own response, ready to face with dignity whatever life sends my way.
As much as this may sound cynical to the critic, a jaded surrender to Murphys’ Law, I suggest that it is rather an expression of a committed faith in the human capacity to do what is right, under any conditions. It will do me little good to be ready for the most routine nuisances, when it is always the earth-shattering catastrophes that truly put me to the test. Until the wolf came along, those other little pigs laughed at the one who had thought ahead.
Habit is a potent force, far too often underestimated, so it is better for me to consider when it will happen, not merely if it will happen. Then I am armed against any threat, not with the foolish confidence that I will destroy my foe, but with the calm assurance that I can retain the integrity of my conscience. My actions, and not my circumstances, are what reflect on me.
Having already experienced more than his fair share of tragedies before visiting the underworld, Aeneas was not speaking out of despair. He knew his calling, and he had steeled himself for any possibility. Though they made little sense to me back then, the torments from my darkest days have now become the foundation for my endurance. It is better to learn this lesson in old age, than to have never learned it at all.
—Reflection written in 10/2013
IMAGE: Jan Bruegel the Younger, Aeneas and the Sibyl in the Underworld (c. 1630)
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