This little anecdote into which I have digressed will not be displeasing to you. For you will see that your friend departed neither with difficulty nor with suffering. Though he committed suicide, yet he withdrew most gently, gliding out of life.
The anecdote may also be of some use; for often a crisis demands just such examples. There are times when we ought to die and are unwilling; sometimes we die and are unwilling. No one is so ignorant as not to know that we must at some time die; nevertheless, when one draws near death, one turns to flight, trembles, and laments.
The anecdote may also be of some use; for often a crisis demands just such examples. There are times when we ought to die and are unwilling; sometimes we die and are unwilling. No one is so ignorant as not to know that we must at some time die; nevertheless, when one draws near death, one turns to flight, trembles, and laments.
Would you not think him an utter fool who wept because he was not alive a thousand years ago? And is he not just as much of a fool who weeps because he will not be alive a thousand years from now?
It is all the same; you will not be, and you were not. Neither of these periods of time belongs to you. You have been cast upon this point of time; if you would make it longer, how much longer shall you make it? Why weep? Why pray? You are taking pains to no purpose.
“Give over thinking that your prayers can bend
Divine decrees from their predestined end.”
These decrees are unalterable and fixed; they are governed by a mighty and everlasting compulsion. Your goal will be the goal of all things.
What is there strange in this to you? You were born to be subject to this law; this fate befell your father, your mother, your ancestors, all who came before you; and it will befall all who shall come after you.
It is all the same; you will not be, and you were not. Neither of these periods of time belongs to you. You have been cast upon this point of time; if you would make it longer, how much longer shall you make it? Why weep? Why pray? You are taking pains to no purpose.
“Give over thinking that your prayers can bend
Divine decrees from their predestined end.”
These decrees are unalterable and fixed; they are governed by a mighty and everlasting compulsion. Your goal will be the goal of all things.
What is there strange in this to you? You were born to be subject to this law; this fate befell your father, your mother, your ancestors, all who came before you; and it will befall all who shall come after you.
—from Seneca, Moral Letters 77
Even though we live in a ridiculously permissive age, you will still find people being prudish about sex, because it can so easily be abused in such a shameful manner. Note, however, that we are equally uncomfortable speaking about death, or even thinking about it, because while it seems so contradictory to imagine ourselves as no longer existing, we also know it to be the ultimate inevitability.
Yet the fact that Nature delights in our coming and going need not be a cause of distress, and it can instead be seen as a calling to excellence, since the realization that we have only so much time makes the need for the virtues all the more urgent. If I am asking for my life to be made longer, is that not an admission that I have dawdled in my responsibilities? If it can be done right now, why do I still hesitate?
Whether it comes early or late, death is the great equalizer, a constant reminder that we are but temporary parts of the whole. While it is still within my power, let me seize the day, seeking only to act for this very moment with integrity and conviction. That the shortness of my life pales in comparison to the ages that are past, and the ages yet to come, does not in any way diminish its worth: it is the quality of living, not the quantity, that makes the difference.
People are often disturbed by the Stoic reflections on death, as if they were merely a morbid obsession. No, the focus serves to highlight the beauty of life, made all the more precious through its fragile impermanence. In recent years, I have found great comfort in the tradition of vanitas paintings, which remind me why the things I sometimes think to be important are hardly that important at all. Fame, wealth, and amusements will soon depart, leaving only the content of my character, held for but an instant, to bring me peace.
Even though we live in a ridiculously permissive age, you will still find people being prudish about sex, because it can so easily be abused in such a shameful manner. Note, however, that we are equally uncomfortable speaking about death, or even thinking about it, because while it seems so contradictory to imagine ourselves as no longer existing, we also know it to be the ultimate inevitability.
Yet the fact that Nature delights in our coming and going need not be a cause of distress, and it can instead be seen as a calling to excellence, since the realization that we have only so much time makes the need for the virtues all the more urgent. If I am asking for my life to be made longer, is that not an admission that I have dawdled in my responsibilities? If it can be done right now, why do I still hesitate?
Whether it comes early or late, death is the great equalizer, a constant reminder that we are but temporary parts of the whole. While it is still within my power, let me seize the day, seeking only to act for this very moment with integrity and conviction. That the shortness of my life pales in comparison to the ages that are past, and the ages yet to come, does not in any way diminish its worth: it is the quality of living, not the quantity, that makes the difference.
People are often disturbed by the Stoic reflections on death, as if they were merely a morbid obsession. No, the focus serves to highlight the beauty of life, made all the more precious through its fragile impermanence. In recent years, I have found great comfort in the tradition of vanitas paintings, which remind me why the things I sometimes think to be important are hardly that important at all. Fame, wealth, and amusements will soon depart, leaving only the content of my character, held for but an instant, to bring me peace.
—Reflection written in 11/2013
IMAGE: Rembrandt Peale, The Court of Death (120)
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