Gaius Caesar was passing along the Via Latina, when a man stepped out from the ranks of the prisoners, his grey beard hanging down even to his breast, and begged to be put to death.
“What!” said Caesar, “are you alive now?”
That is the answer which should be given to men to whom death would come as a relief.
“You are afraid to die; what! are you alive now?”
“But,” says one, “I wish to live, for I am engaged in many honorable pursuits. I am loth to leave life’s duties, which I am fulfilling with loyalty and zeal.”
Surely you are aware that dying is also one of life’s duties? You are deserting no duty; for there is no definite number established which you are bound to complete. There is no life that is not short.
Compared with the world of nature, even Nestor’s life was a short one, or Sattia’s, the woman who bade carve on her tombstone that she had lived ninety and nine years. Some persons, you see, boast of their long lives; but who could have endured the old lady if she had had the luck to complete her hundredth year?
It is with life as it is with a play—it matters not how long the action is spun out, but how good the acting is. It makes no difference at what point you stop. Stop whenever you choose; only see to it that the closing period is well turned. Farewell.
“What!” said Caesar, “are you alive now?”
That is the answer which should be given to men to whom death would come as a relief.
“You are afraid to die; what! are you alive now?”
“But,” says one, “I wish to live, for I am engaged in many honorable pursuits. I am loth to leave life’s duties, which I am fulfilling with loyalty and zeal.”
Surely you are aware that dying is also one of life’s duties? You are deserting no duty; for there is no definite number established which you are bound to complete. There is no life that is not short.
Compared with the world of nature, even Nestor’s life was a short one, or Sattia’s, the woman who bade carve on her tombstone that she had lived ninety and nine years. Some persons, you see, boast of their long lives; but who could have endured the old lady if she had had the luck to complete her hundredth year?
It is with life as it is with a play—it matters not how long the action is spun out, but how good the acting is. It makes no difference at what point you stop. Stop whenever you choose; only see to it that the closing period is well turned. Farewell.
—from Seneca, Moral Letters 77
The Stoic Turn is ultimately another expression of a perennial wisdom, to be found in so many noble cultures and traditions: redefine your very measure of the good, and you will overcome any grief, fear, gratification, or lust. What we often call living is really a form of dying, and our fear of dying is really a failure at living.
Caesar may have spoken harshly, but he uttered words that everyone needs to hear. If asked what we believe makes a life worth living, what will be our usual responses? We will point to pleasant feelings and comfortable circumstances, the more the better, while the odd fellow who appeals to a spark of character will be eyed with the deepest suspicion.
And yet, if we only bother to reflect for a moment, what could be more absurd than making happiness dependent upon the outer things, and not upon our inner selves? The prisoner is no longer alive, because he despairs without the freedom of his body. The man of ambition is no longer alive, because he clings to his worldly honors. One begs for it to end, and the other doesn’t wish to depart, and both have judged their value from a false premise.
It truly isn’t about the living or the dying in themselves, but about the way we go about the living or the dying. I shouldn’t care if I have a hundred years to do my work, or just a minute to prove my moxie. I admire Nestor because he sought to be wise, not because he grew old, and I pity Achilles because he was intemperate, not because he died young.
I once received a standing ovation for playing a rather difficult double bass line in a chamber orchestra performance. Though I was still an impetuous young pup, I immediately realized why the recognition didn’t matter as much as the satisfaction of my own efforts, and I remember feeling how this was enough. It was over in an instant; there didn’t have to be a sequel.
“But you need to survive! To do more! That’s what counts!”
No, I need to thrive, even if only for two shakes of a lamb’s tail. Once I learn to cherish the virtues above anything else, I am free to exit the stage after I have played my little part.
The Stoic Turn is ultimately another expression of a perennial wisdom, to be found in so many noble cultures and traditions: redefine your very measure of the good, and you will overcome any grief, fear, gratification, or lust. What we often call living is really a form of dying, and our fear of dying is really a failure at living.
Caesar may have spoken harshly, but he uttered words that everyone needs to hear. If asked what we believe makes a life worth living, what will be our usual responses? We will point to pleasant feelings and comfortable circumstances, the more the better, while the odd fellow who appeals to a spark of character will be eyed with the deepest suspicion.
And yet, if we only bother to reflect for a moment, what could be more absurd than making happiness dependent upon the outer things, and not upon our inner selves? The prisoner is no longer alive, because he despairs without the freedom of his body. The man of ambition is no longer alive, because he clings to his worldly honors. One begs for it to end, and the other doesn’t wish to depart, and both have judged their value from a false premise.
It truly isn’t about the living or the dying in themselves, but about the way we go about the living or the dying. I shouldn’t care if I have a hundred years to do my work, or just a minute to prove my moxie. I admire Nestor because he sought to be wise, not because he grew old, and I pity Achilles because he was intemperate, not because he died young.
I once received a standing ovation for playing a rather difficult double bass line in a chamber orchestra performance. Though I was still an impetuous young pup, I immediately realized why the recognition didn’t matter as much as the satisfaction of my own efforts, and I remember feeling how this was enough. It was over in an instant; there didn’t have to be a sequel.
“But you need to survive! To do more! That’s what counts!”
No, I need to thrive, even if only for two shakes of a lamb’s tail. Once I learn to cherish the virtues above anything else, I am free to exit the stage after I have played my little part.
—Reflection written in 11/2013
IMAGE: Joseph-Désiré Court, Achilles Introduced to Nestor (1820)
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