Now if Aetna does not make your mouth water, I am mistaken in you. You have for some time been desirous of writing something in the grand style and on the level of the older school. For your modesty does not allow you to set your hopes any higher; this quality of yours is so pronounced that, it seems to me, you are likely to curb the force of your natural ability, if there should be any danger of outdoing others; so greatly do you reverence the old masters.
Wisdom has this advantage, among others—that no man can be outdone by another, except during the climb. But when you have arrived at the top, it is a draw; there is no room for further ascent, the game is over.
Can the sun add to his size? Can the moon advance beyond her usual fulness? The seas do not increase in bulk. The Universe keeps the same character, the same limits. Things which have reached their full stature cannot grow higher.
Men who have attained wisdom will therefore be equal and on the same footing. Each of them will possess his own peculiar gifts: one will be more affable, another more facile, another more ready of speech, a fourth more eloquent; but as regards the quality under discussion—the element that produces happiness—it is equal in them all.
I do not know whether this Aetna of yours can collapse and fall in ruins, whether this lofty summit, visible for many miles over the deep sea, is wasted by the incessant power of the flames; but I do know that virtue will not be brought down to a lower plane either by flames or by ruins.
Hers is the only greatness that knows no lowering; there can be for her no further rising or sinking. Her stature, like that of the stars in the heavens, is fixed. Let us therefore strive to raise ourselves to this altitude.
Wisdom has this advantage, among others—that no man can be outdone by another, except during the climb. But when you have arrived at the top, it is a draw; there is no room for further ascent, the game is over.
Can the sun add to his size? Can the moon advance beyond her usual fulness? The seas do not increase in bulk. The Universe keeps the same character, the same limits. Things which have reached their full stature cannot grow higher.
Men who have attained wisdom will therefore be equal and on the same footing. Each of them will possess his own peculiar gifts: one will be more affable, another more facile, another more ready of speech, a fourth more eloquent; but as regards the quality under discussion—the element that produces happiness—it is equal in them all.
I do not know whether this Aetna of yours can collapse and fall in ruins, whether this lofty summit, visible for many miles over the deep sea, is wasted by the incessant power of the flames; but I do know that virtue will not be brought down to a lower plane either by flames or by ruins.
Hers is the only greatness that knows no lowering; there can be for her no further rising or sinking. Her stature, like that of the stars in the heavens, is fixed. Let us therefore strive to raise ourselves to this altitude.
—from Seneca, Moral Letters 79
This section strikes awfully close to home, for I have long been prone to selling myself short. I could easily try to blame the bullies and the beautiful people, for regularly reminding me how I wasn’t good enough, though I really know that the fault has always been my own. Let another man compete where there is no need to compete, and let me remember why the good life is never about winning a race.
While Lucilius may feel intimidated by the greatness of the writers who came before him, his work must stand on its own merits. Perhaps just one entrepreneur can negotiate the lucrative contract, or only one athlete can win the gold medal, but in the end, happiness is not about the fortune and the fame. Once obtained, however we might manage to approach them, wisdom and virtue leave nothing more to be desired, and there is no limited supply, reserved for the select few.
There is good reason why the analogy of climbing a mountain is so universal, even as I fear that too many of us are now denied such a rousing experience; begrudgingly taking the stairs when the elevator is broken is hardly the same. The various paths may be straight or winding, steep or gradual, long or short, scenic or bleak, yet we all hope to arrive at the very same summit. And after we reach that peak, no one wanderer is better or worse than any other.
Whatever our peculiarities, and wherever we may have come from, the destination is shared in common, and it admits of no rank. If I care solely for the content of character, it will make little difference how any of us got there, or what baggage we carried with us. When understanding and love are the goal, there is no call for pretending to be special, as the accidents fall away from the essence.
Consider how any rivalry must immediately cease, when a peace of mind has been achieved. Where there is prudence, there is no malice. Where there is fortitude, there is no doubt. Where there is temperance, there is no lust. Where there is justice, there is no envy. Name the human failing, and the virtues will always remove it, one person at a time.
We only stumble if our priorities are out of order. All schemes must eventually fail, and every empire will surely crumble, but a soul filled with integrity is unassailable, because virtue is itself the pinnacle of our human nature. I am well-advised to recall this, the next time I find myself hindered by any fear or resentment about being good enough.
This section strikes awfully close to home, for I have long been prone to selling myself short. I could easily try to blame the bullies and the beautiful people, for regularly reminding me how I wasn’t good enough, though I really know that the fault has always been my own. Let another man compete where there is no need to compete, and let me remember why the good life is never about winning a race.
While Lucilius may feel intimidated by the greatness of the writers who came before him, his work must stand on its own merits. Perhaps just one entrepreneur can negotiate the lucrative contract, or only one athlete can win the gold medal, but in the end, happiness is not about the fortune and the fame. Once obtained, however we might manage to approach them, wisdom and virtue leave nothing more to be desired, and there is no limited supply, reserved for the select few.
There is good reason why the analogy of climbing a mountain is so universal, even as I fear that too many of us are now denied such a rousing experience; begrudgingly taking the stairs when the elevator is broken is hardly the same. The various paths may be straight or winding, steep or gradual, long or short, scenic or bleak, yet we all hope to arrive at the very same summit. And after we reach that peak, no one wanderer is better or worse than any other.
Whatever our peculiarities, and wherever we may have come from, the destination is shared in common, and it admits of no rank. If I care solely for the content of character, it will make little difference how any of us got there, or what baggage we carried with us. When understanding and love are the goal, there is no call for pretending to be special, as the accidents fall away from the essence.
Consider how any rivalry must immediately cease, when a peace of mind has been achieved. Where there is prudence, there is no malice. Where there is fortitude, there is no doubt. Where there is temperance, there is no lust. Where there is justice, there is no envy. Name the human failing, and the virtues will always remove it, one person at a time.
We only stumble if our priorities are out of order. All schemes must eventually fail, and every empire will surely crumble, but a soul filled with integrity is unassailable, because virtue is itself the pinnacle of our human nature. I am well-advised to recall this, the next time I find myself hindered by any fear or resentment about being good enough.
—Reflection written in 11/2013
IMAGE: Thomas Cole, Mount Etna from Taormina (1843)
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