Letter 87: Some arguments in favor of the simple life
“I was shipwrecked before I got aboard.” I shall not add how that happened, lest you may reckon this also as another of the Stoic paradoxes; and yet I shall, whenever you are willing to listen, nay, even though you be unwilling, prove to you that these words are by no means untrue, nor so surprising as one at first sight would think.
Meantime, the journey showed me this: how much we possess that is superfluous; and how easily we can make up our minds to do away with things whose loss, whenever it is necessary to part with them, we do not feel.
My friend Maximus and I have been spending a most happy period of two days, taking with us very few slaves—one carriage-load—and no paraphernalia except what we wore on our persons.
The mattress lies on the ground, and I upon the mattress. There are two rugs—one to spread beneath us and one to cover us.Nothing could have been subtracted from our luncheon; it took not more than an hour to prepare, and we were nowhere without dried figs, never without writing tablets. If I have bread, I use figs as a relish; if not, I regard figs as a substitute for bread.
Hence, they bring me a New Year feast every day, and I make the New Year happy and prosperous by good thoughts and greatness of soul; for the soul is never greater than when it has laid aside all extraneous things, and has secured peace for itself by fearing nothing, and riches by craving no riches.
The vehicle in which I have taken my seat is a farmer’s cart. Only by walking do the mules show that they are alive. The driver is barefoot, and not because it is summer either.
“I was shipwrecked before I got aboard.” I shall not add how that happened, lest you may reckon this also as another of the Stoic paradoxes; and yet I shall, whenever you are willing to listen, nay, even though you be unwilling, prove to you that these words are by no means untrue, nor so surprising as one at first sight would think.
Meantime, the journey showed me this: how much we possess that is superfluous; and how easily we can make up our minds to do away with things whose loss, whenever it is necessary to part with them, we do not feel.
My friend Maximus and I have been spending a most happy period of two days, taking with us very few slaves—one carriage-load—and no paraphernalia except what we wore on our persons.
The mattress lies on the ground, and I upon the mattress. There are two rugs—one to spread beneath us and one to cover us.Nothing could have been subtracted from our luncheon; it took not more than an hour to prepare, and we were nowhere without dried figs, never without writing tablets. If I have bread, I use figs as a relish; if not, I regard figs as a substitute for bread.
Hence, they bring me a New Year feast every day, and I make the New Year happy and prosperous by good thoughts and greatness of soul; for the soul is never greater than when it has laid aside all extraneous things, and has secured peace for itself by fearing nothing, and riches by craving no riches.
The vehicle in which I have taken my seat is a farmer’s cart. Only by walking do the mules show that they are alive. The driver is barefoot, and not because it is summer either.
—from Seneca, Moral Letters 87
Yes, the Stoics seemed to enjoy speaking in paradoxes, though they did not do this in order to sound mysterious and profound, like conceited college students when they parrot lines from Nietzsche or the Buddha. No, they were concerned with flipping our assumptions about the good and the bad, so that we might learn to cherish what we had previously neglected, and to become untroubled about the conditions we once believed to be crippling. Things are not always what they seem.
I may think I am being frugal when I deny myself a few trivial luxuries, but if I am brutally honest with myself, the list will grow very much longer, to the point where almost everything I claim to need turns out to be quite superfluous. While I may well prefer it, it is hardly necessary in order to live well, as long as I am considering my nature in the proper light.
As shocking as it is to the affluent consumer, it is possible to be a good man, and thereby also a happy man, under the most severe privations—even when facing death itself, because living better is not dependent on living longer. In the end, we must all choose our priorities wisely, and I don’t mean deciding on the most stylish brand of breakfast cereal.
I really can’t comment about the slaves, since I have never had any sort of underlings, or even the carriage, since I elect to walk whenever I am able. I do, however, appreciate the virtues of traveling light, of sleeping on the ground, and of savoring the simplest meals. It is liberating to discover why less can be more.
In some cases, a convenience had to be forced from me before I finally realized that it was expendable. In other cases, I freely denied myself a comfort, sensing how its presence was bringing me far more trouble than its absence. In all cases, I can become indifferent to both prosperity and poverty, in the full knowledge that my excellence is not determined by any collection of circumstances.
The only obstacle is the force of our own habits, which always remain within our power, as long as we act with patience and persistence. If the theory doesn’t sound convincing, it can be put to the test in practice: after an initial shock, our expectations can change, slowly but surely, as we recognize how we are creatures made to rule ourselves, not to be ruled by the whims of fortune.
Bread and figs can be just as good, and therefore just as satisfying, as a cheeseburger and fries. It all rests upon the quality of our judgments.
Yes, the Stoics seemed to enjoy speaking in paradoxes, though they did not do this in order to sound mysterious and profound, like conceited college students when they parrot lines from Nietzsche or the Buddha. No, they were concerned with flipping our assumptions about the good and the bad, so that we might learn to cherish what we had previously neglected, and to become untroubled about the conditions we once believed to be crippling. Things are not always what they seem.
I may think I am being frugal when I deny myself a few trivial luxuries, but if I am brutally honest with myself, the list will grow very much longer, to the point where almost everything I claim to need turns out to be quite superfluous. While I may well prefer it, it is hardly necessary in order to live well, as long as I am considering my nature in the proper light.
As shocking as it is to the affluent consumer, it is possible to be a good man, and thereby also a happy man, under the most severe privations—even when facing death itself, because living better is not dependent on living longer. In the end, we must all choose our priorities wisely, and I don’t mean deciding on the most stylish brand of breakfast cereal.
I really can’t comment about the slaves, since I have never had any sort of underlings, or even the carriage, since I elect to walk whenever I am able. I do, however, appreciate the virtues of traveling light, of sleeping on the ground, and of savoring the simplest meals. It is liberating to discover why less can be more.
In some cases, a convenience had to be forced from me before I finally realized that it was expendable. In other cases, I freely denied myself a comfort, sensing how its presence was bringing me far more trouble than its absence. In all cases, I can become indifferent to both prosperity and poverty, in the full knowledge that my excellence is not determined by any collection of circumstances.
The only obstacle is the force of our own habits, which always remain within our power, as long as we act with patience and persistence. If the theory doesn’t sound convincing, it can be put to the test in practice: after an initial shock, our expectations can change, slowly but surely, as we recognize how we are creatures made to rule ourselves, not to be ruled by the whims of fortune.
Bread and figs can be just as good, and therefore just as satisfying, as a cheeseburger and fries. It all rests upon the quality of our judgments.
—Reflection written in 2/2014
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