Seneca, Moral Letters 33.4

That is why we give to children a proverb, or that which the Greeks call chreia, to be learned by heart; that sort of thing can be comprehended by the young mind, which cannot as yet hold more. 

 
For a man, however, whose progress is definite, to chase after choice extracts and to prop his weakness by the best known and the briefest sayings and to depend upon his memory, is disgraceful; it is time for him to lean on himself. He should make such maxims and not memorize them. 
 
For it is disgraceful even for an old man, or one who has sighted old age, to have a notebook knowledge. 
 
"This is what Zeno said." 
 
But what have you yourself said? 
 
"This is the opinion of Cleanthes." 
 
But what is your own opinion? How long shall you march under another man's orders? Take command, and utter some word which posterity will remember. Put forth something from your own stock. 

—from Seneca, Moral Letters 33
 
We are currently more interested in promoting the professional trades, the Servile Arts, than we are in nurturing a deeper human formation, the Liberal Arts, though I’m sure the pendulum will one day swing back again. Beginning with the Greeks and the Romans, and passing through into the Middle Ages and the Renaissance, ran a tradition of measuring learning by how well we understood our meaning and purpose. 
 
For all the remarkable scientific and technological advances of the last few centuries, our moral sense is not something we can afford to lose. 
 
One part of the Liberal Arts model is an awareness of how certain methods of education are best suited to different stages in our development. Before we can learn to express ourselves convincingly, we must first learn how to think clearly, and before we can put order to our thoughts, we must first acquire a competence in language. 
 
As much as it is tempting to skip ahead, all is wasted without the groundwork, and in her wisdom, Nature has made children especially gifted at soaking up patterns, just as adolescents are notably disposed to forming arguments. Whatever the age, there can be no adulthood without attending to the previous inclinations. 
 
Hence the trivium, the first three Liberal Arts of grammar, logic, and rhetoric, were not chosen at random, for they reflect our inner growth, and when we are younger we are most suited to honing the power of memory. 
 
The chreia was a brief anecdote involving a character’s response to a situation, and students were expected to retain certain lessons by memorizing them. I only realized how the Greeks had it completely right when I say my own two children, beginning at around the age of four or five, relating everything in their lives to the telling of stories. 
 
Things change by the age of twelve or thirteen, and then a simple tale is no longer enough to answer a question. The cry of “Why?” cannot be satisfied by an attribution, and now demands a proper explanation; it is a wonderful, and a frustrating, part of growing up. 
 
In like manner, if I am to embrace maturity, I can’t continue relying on what someone else has said, or letting my mind be led by the judgments of another. By constantly quoting the words of this or that authority I am failing to be my own man. 
 
Can I learn from my betters? Of course I can, but once the lesson has been grasped, it is time to move one to becoming responsible for myself. If I have truly assimilated it, then I should have some confidence in my ability to follow my own reasoning. Self-mastery is the key, not resorting to endless references and footnotes. 
 
The very way I write these reflections, working from other Stoic texts, shows me how this is still a work in progress. I turn to Seneca, Epictetus, and Marcus Aurelius every day, though I always keep in mind that these writings are merely a means, never an end in themselves. I hope for a day when I will no longer need to look up an answer and can instead formulate my own—it’s high time to put on the big-boy pants. 
 
I think of one of my favorite chreias about Diogenes, and how much my son also came to enjoy it: 
 
When asked why he was carrying a lamp around the city in daylight, Diogenes said: “I am looking for an honest man.” 
 
Neither Diogenes nor the lamp are ultimately the point here—a personal willingness to evaluate character is the point here. 

—Reflection written in 12/2012 

Sayings of Publilius Syrus 88

Trust no man as a friend until you have tried him. 

Abandoned Places 39

Romain Veillon, A New Beginning 

Nature 41

IMAGE by Ian Beckley (2019) 

Seneca, Moral Letters 33.3

For this reason, give over hoping that you can skim, by means of epitomes, the wisdom of distinguished men. Look into their wisdom as a whole; study it as a whole. They are working out a plan and weaving together, line upon line, a masterpiece, from which nothing can be taken away without injury to the whole. 
 
Examine the separate parts, if you like, provided you examine them as parts of the man himself. She is not a beautiful woman whose ankle or arm is praised, but she whose general appearance makes you forget to admire her single attributes. 
 
If you insist, however, I shall not be niggardly with you, but lavish; for there is a huge multitude of these passages; they are scattered about in profusion—they do not need to be gathered together, but merely to be picked up. 
 
They do not drip forth occasionally; they flow continuously. They are unbroken and are closely connected. Doubtless they would be of much benefit to those who are still novices and worshipping outside the shrine; for single maxims sink in more easily when they are marked off and bounded like a line of verse. 

—from Seneca, Moral Letters 33 
 
I have long been a supporter of Classical education, where the power to rule oneself and the formation of a conscience are the priorities. I also see how the model of the “Great Books” can assist in this task, as there are few things more powerful than directly working through how other people have thought so that one might learn to think for oneself. 
 
And then I am saddened to observe how we abuse these ideals. We may still speak of the liberal arts, but the term is now a hollow shell, reduced from being the skills suitable for the man who is free to a bland textbook conformity with whatever ideological platitudes happen to be in fashion at the moment. I know it will offend many if I say it, but it is make-believe learning. 
 
A surefire sign of this charade is in the way we merely browse material that should be examined thoroughly and carefully. I am not exaggerating when I say that many celebrated courses in the humanities have syllabi that claim to cover Homer in one week, and the Bible in the next, as if any student can actually do the readings, or acquires any wisdom from an hour of vague and contrived discussion. 
 
As one frustrated professor once put it: “We pretend to teach, and they pretend to learn.” 
 
We walk away from such travesties with just a handful of slick quotations, useful for tossing about at cocktail parties, and little more. We live under the illusion that we are now educated, and ready to face life, because we can cite a few lines and have shallow opinions about books we have never read. When the goal is simply to put on a show, no one walks away with integrity. 
 
Again, while I do not wish to offer any insult, we only brush aside such facts when we are a part of the problem. It pains me when a university dean or president sounds like he is selling me a used car. 
 
Now is it any wonder why Seneca is advising Lucilius to avoid relying on blurbs, tidbits, or buzzwords? If it is important enough, dig deeply to uncover the treasure. Take a long and slow draught, instead of sipping at dozens of tiny samples. 
 
You can never really fall in love with anyone or anything you don’t know to the core. This is the basis of any good marriage, and it is the basis of any sound learning. 
 
And please don’t tell me there is too much out there to grasp, since even a cursory glance reveals why some matters deserve far closer attention than others; a capacity for compassion is due more attention than the ability to design a snazzy website. 
 
There is no shame in remembering a certain passage, or using it as a daily reminder to stay on track, but that can never be done without a profound sense of its place within a greater glory. If I am only scratching the surface of a subject, it will, in turn, have no lasting effect on me. 
 
Yes, I do still collect interesting quotations, though I am acutely aware that there is no end to them, for they are as numerous as the grains of sand. They acquire meaning and purpose when revered as parts of a whole. When starting out on the road of awareness, they do indeed help to point the way, and then they must be subsumed into the totality of wisdom. 
 
I think of that wonderful Buddhist story, where many blind men try to describe an elephant by touching only one piece of the mighty beast. I’m tired of picking away at the morsels, and I am now ready for a proper feast. 

—Reflection written in 12/2012 

IMAGE: Ohara Donshu, Blind Men Appraising an Elephant (c. 1850) 

Stockdale on Stoicism 28

The Stoics believe that every man bears the exclusive responsibility himself for his own good and his own evil—and that leads to their further conclusion that it is impossible to imagine a moral order in which one person does the wrong, and another, the innocent, suffers. 

Now add all that to Epictetus's firm belief that we are all born with an innate conception of good and evil, and what is noble and what is shameful, what is becoming and unbecoming, what is fitting and inappropriate, what is right to do and what is wrong, and further, remembering that all Stoic talk refers to the inner man, what is going on "way down in here." 

It follows that the perpetrator of evil pays the full price for his misdeed in suffering the injury of knowing that he has destroyed the good man within him. 

Man has "moral sense," and he reaps the benefits and pays the price for this inheritance. 

—from James B. Stockdale, The Stoic Warrior's Triad 

IMAGE: Pierre Subleyras, Justice (c. 1730) 

Sayings of Ramakrishna 184

He finds God the quickest whose yearning and concentration are the greatest. 

Seneca, Moral Letters 33.2

Therefore, you need not call upon me for extracts and quotations; such thoughts as one may extract here and there in the works of other philosophers run through the whole body of our writings. 

 
Hence we have no "show-window goods," nor do we deceive the purchaser in such a way that, if he enters our shop, he will find nothing except that which is displayed in the window. We allow the purchasers themselves to get their samples from anywhere they please.
 
Suppose we should desire to sort out each separate motto from the general stock; to whom shall we credit them? To Zeno, Cleanthes, Chrysippus, Panaetius, or Posidonius? We Stoics are not subjects of a despot: each of us lays claim to his own freedom. 
 
With them, on the other hand, whatever Hermarchus says, or Metrodorus, is ascribed to one source. In that brotherhood, everything that any man utters is spoken under the leadership and commanding authority of one alone. 
 
We cannot, I maintain, no matter how we try, pick out anything from so great a multitude of things equally good: 
 
“Only the poor man counts his flock.”
 
Wherever you direct your gaze, you will meet with something that might stand out from the rest, if the context in which you read it were not equally notable. 

—from Seneca, Moral Letters 33 
 
There may have been a time when Lucilius still needed the support of notable quotations, but Seneca now believes that he has grown beyond it. At some point, the training wheels need to come off the bicycle. Take it as a compliment! 
 
I work at not focusing on a single thread, but rather admiring how it fits into the beauty of the entire tapestry. I once obsessed about collecting the choicest citations in a little notebook, and then later I painstakingly assembled a list of “great books” I felt I had to read, and now I am getting the hang of showing reverence for the true and the good in any form it happens to come to me. 
 
My wife rolls her eyes at my distrust of advertising, and I try to explain that an appealing image is not itself a problem, while having nothing of substance standing behind it is most certainly a problem. It is sadly no different in the intellectual world, where what is called a philosophy often ends up being little more than a sort of brand loyalty, a comfort zone of associating with the right sorts of people. 
 
In such a tribal ideology, the “-isms” are bought and sold based upon how much they make us feel self-satisfied, and how easily they can help us to direct our frustrations toward the “other”, our enemies who can be blamed for any of our own failures. I see it in the churches, I see it at the political rallies, and yes, I see it in the halls of academia, where a university is now little more than a product. 
 
I inevitably get myself into trouble when I am caught up in the initial appearances, and I should hardly be surprised when there is nothing of value underneath the shiny veneer. If the salesman’s product is truly superior, why is he so worried about me examining the goods at the next shop? What is he hiding from me? 
 
A few years ago, I was looking to buy a new stereo system, and being quite the snob about my music, I wasn’t sure if the model at this one place was really what I wanted. The owner surprised me when he nodded knowingly, and he explained how another store offered a line from a different manufacturer that might be more to my taste. He wrote down the address for me, and then even called ahead to ask what was available in stock. 
 
Was it a trick? I can’t speak for his motives, but the fact that he was willing to present an option that might bring him absolutely no profit impressed me greatly. Just as a solid businessman can be respectful in letting his customers decide, so the genuine philosopher is never afraid to let his students think for themselves, making use of any tools they find most productive. 
 
If the vehicle gets me from one place to another reliably, safely, and comfortably, it becomes irrelevant whether it was bought at Crazy Eddie’s Motor Emporium or at Honest Mike’s Cavalcade of Cars. Or am I more worried about giving in to the pretenses of fashion?  
 
If they try to convince you by the authority or the respectability of the source, you are justified in feeling wary. If they are steering you toward only a single alternative, it is time for you to assert your own power of judgment. If they are stressing just the one aspect that gratifies instantly, it is time for you to walk away politely. 
 
The shepherd looks out at his whole flock, and he does not constantly fixate on the individual sheep. So too the philosopher, whether Stoic or otherwise, does not allow himself to be distracted by the divisions between the many schools. There is something worthy to be found everywhere. 

—Reflection written in 12/2012 

IMAGE: Vincent Van Gogh, Shepherd with a Flock of Sheep (1884) 

Stoic Snippets 172

Do not disturb yourself by thinking of the whole of your life. 

Let not your thoughts at once embrace all the various troubles which you may expect to befall you: but on every occasion ask yourself, "What is there in this which is intolerable and past bearing?" 

For you will be ashamed to confess. 

In the next place remember that neither the future nor the past pains you, but only the present. 

But this is reduced to a very little, if you only circumscribe it, and chide your mind if it is unable to hold out against even this. 

—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 8.36 

Dhammapada 264, 265

Not by tonsure does an undisciplined man who speaks falsehood become a Samana; can a man be a Samana who is still held captive by desire and greediness? 

He who always quiets the evil, whether small or large, he is called a Samana, a quiet man, because he has quieted all evil. 

Thomas a Kempis, The Imitation of Christ 3.52

That a man ought not to reckon himself worthy of consolation, but more worthy of chastisement 

1. O Lord, I am not worthy of Your consolation, nor of any spiritual visitation; and therefore You deal justly with me, when You leave me poor and desolate. For if I were able to pour forth tears like the sea, still should I not be worthy of Your consolation. Therefore am I nothing worthy save to be scourged and punished, because I have grievously and many a time offended You, and in many things have greatly sinned. Therefore, true account being taken, I am not worthy even of the least of Your consolations. But You, gracious and merciful God, who wills not that Your works should perish, to show forth the riches of Your mercy upon the vessels of mercy, vouchsafes even beyond all his own deserving, to comfort Your servant above the measure of mankind. For Your consolations are not like unto the discoursings of men. 

2. What have I done, O Lord, that You should bestow any heavenly comfort upon me? I remember not that I have done any good, but have been ever prone to sin and slow to amendment. It is true and I cannot deny it. If I should say otherwise, You would rise up against me, and there would be none to defend me. What have I deserved for my sins but hell and everlasting fire? In very truth I confess that I am worthy of all scorn and contempt, nor is it fit that I should be remembered among Your faithful servants. And although I be unwilling to hear this, nevertheless I will for the Truth’s sake, accuse myself of my sins, that the more readily I may prevail to be accounted worthy of Your mercy. 

3. What shall I say, guilty that I am and filled with confusion? I have no mouth to utter, unless it be this word alone, “I have sinned, Lord, I have sinned; have mercy upon me, forgive me.” Let me alone, that I may take comfort a little before I go whence I shall not return even to the land of darkness and the shadow of death. What do You so much require of a guilty and miserable sinner, as that he be contrite, and humble himself for his sins? In true contrition and humiliation of heart is begotten the hope of pardon, the troubled conscience is reconciled, lost grace is recovered, a man is preserved from the wrath to come, and God and the penitent soul hasten to meet each other with a holy kiss. 

4. The humble contrition of sinners is an acceptable sacrifice unto You, O Lord, sending forth a smell sweeter far in Your sight than the incense. This also is that pleasant ointment which You would have poured upon Your sacred feet, for a broken and contrite heart You have never despised. There is the place of refuge from the wrathful countenance of the enemy. There is amended and washed away whatsoever evil has elsewhere been contracted. 

IMAGE: El Greco, The Penitent Magdalene (c. 1580) 

Seneca, Moral Letters 33.1

Letter 33: On the futility of learning maxims 
 
You wish me to close these letters also, as I closed my former letters, with certain utterances taken from the chiefs of our school. But they did not interest themselves in choice extracts; the whole texture of their work is full of strength. 
 
There is unevenness, you know, when some objects rise conspicuous above others. A single tree is not remarkable if the whole forest rises to the same height. 
 
Poetry is crammed with utterances of this sort, and so is history. For this reason I would not have you think that these utterances belong to Epicurus: they are common property and are emphatically our own. 
 
They are, however, more noteworthy in Epicurus, because they appear at infrequent intervals and when you do not expect them, and because it is surprising that brave words should be spoken at any time by a man who made a practice of being effeminate. 
 
For that is what most persons maintain. In my own opinion, however, Epicurus is really a brave man, even though he did wear long sleeves. Fortitude, energy, and readiness for battle are to be found among the Persians, just as much as among men who have girded themselves up high. 

—from Seneca, Moral Letters 33 
 
I was wondering how quickly the topic would come up! I noticed how Seneca was no longer including a quote from Epicurus at the end of each letter, and I suppose that Lucilius was asking for a continuation of the usual philosophical quick fix. Comfortable old habits can be hard to break, as I know very well from my childhood struggle to fall asleep without my favorite stuffed animal, Maus. 
 
I am of two minds on the matter of memorable quotes, for sometimes I find them to be helpful signposts for more thorough accounts, while at other times I am inclined to use them as lazy substitutes for critical thinking. A reliance on platitudes, pithy sayings, and shrewd phrases can too often reveal a love of style over substance. 
 
This unfortunate tendency seems even more common in the digital age, where words are cheap while attention spans become shorter. I was one of the first in my circle who had a revolving set of seemingly profound .sig files attached to my emails, though I eventually abandoned the practice when I realized I was merely being pompous. It is good to know, however, that the Romans were just as likely to abuse hackneyed citations. 
 
I do appreciate Seneca’s observation that we shouldn’t grow attached to extraordinary bursts of insight, since it is far more important for the whole argument to be meaningful. I know plenty of writers who have come up with a few choice expressions, and are regularly praised for them, yet the thinkers who have truly changed my life are the ones where all the parts of their discussion are both engaging and essential to a deeper understanding. 
 
I think it no accident, for example, that most any passage in Epictetus, Marcus Aurelius, or yes, also Seneca grabs my attention, and then immediately inspires me to explore the greater context. Sorry, but a witticism by Oscar Wilde, however amusing, has never managed to lead me beyond its own cleverness. 
 
In other words, a single sentence will no longer appear to be exceptional when the entire work is of the highest quality. Once I feel the need to pick out the choice morsels, it says something about the mediocrity of whatever I am leaving behind. There is a world of difference between the one-hit wonder and the timeless legend of rock who belts out a masterpiece even on his worst days. 
 
After all, if it happens to be true, it doesn’t matter who said it or how memorable it sounds. I imagine that Seneca was not regularly quoting Epicurus to glorify the source, but rather because these observations were so universal that even an opponent of the Stoics couldn’t help but embrace them. There is something remarkable when the staunchest of adversaries have to say to one another, “On this we can all agree!” 
 
I could mock Epicurus as much as I like for being soft in his dependence on feelings, yet the fact remains that he practiced incredible courage and restraint. Let us look to what is common to everyone and everything that is good, not simply attend to one particular instance that catches our fancy. A narrow view is no substitute for a broader perspective. 

—Reflection written in 12/2012 

Arabian Poet

Gustave Moreau, Arabian Poet (1886)

The Traveling Poet

Gustave Moreau, The Traveling Poet (c. 1891)

Sayings of Publilius Syrus 87

Misfortune sometimes visits him whom she has often passed by. 

The Dance of Death 1

Bernt Notke, The Lübeck Dance of Death (c. 1466) 

Only these black and white photographs survive, the original mural having been destroyed by an Allied bombing raid in 1942. 

Seneca, Moral Letters 32.3

Would you know what makes men greedy for the future? It is because no one has yet found himself. Your parents, to be sure, asked other blessings for you; but I myself pray rather that you may despise all those things which your parents wished for you in abundance. Their prayers plunder many another person, simply that you may be enriched. Whatever they make over to you must be removed from someone else.
 
I pray that you may get such control over yourself that your mind, now shaken by wandering thoughts, may at last come to rest and be steadfast, that it may be content with itself and, having attained an understanding of what things are truly good—and they are in our possession as soon as we have this knowledge—that it may have no need of added years. 
 
He has at length passed beyond all necessities—he has won his honorable discharge and is free—who still lives after his life has been completed. Farewell. 

—from Seneca, Moral Letters 32 
 
The tree is content to grow in its spot of soil and to taste of the sun, simply being a tree. The bird is content to live in the branches of the tree and to nibble on some of its fruit, simply being a bird. 
 
And a man feels the need to cut down all the trees and to hunt down all the birds, because he has not yet learned to be content with simply being a man. He is gifted with reason so he might freely be aware of his own nature, and yet in choosing ignorance he is frantically grasping at anything and everything beyond himself.
 
My lust for continual acquisition and consumption is built upon the premise that success always requires defeating someone else, which in tun arises from my failure to recognize the good that is already within my soul. I rely on the promise that, somewhere down the line, everything will eventually fall into place for me, the whole time forgetting how no amount of hoarding will ever make a man any better. 
 
Most of our parents did it, and now most of us are following the same path: the first twenty years spent just preparing to enter the fray, then another twenty years of fighting to climb the ladder, then another twenty years of kicking at anyone who is still at your heels, then a final twenty years of watching all those vanities fade away. 
 
It doesn’t sound so appealing when you strip away the glamor. And now try sleeping at night when you remember how many people you abused, betrayed, and abandoned during your glorious journey. 
 
Pursue it if you believe you must, but I will go a different route. I work in humdrum ways to treat each moment with appreciation, and to advance with tiny steps toward a time when I no longer feel the longing for more time. Did I do it with all the understanding and love at my disposal? Then it hardly matters where it happened, who noticed it, or how long it lasted. 
 
Some would insist that freedom means getting everything you want, while others are wise enough to know that freedom means being relieved of any further want. 

—Reflection written in 12/2012 

Ellis Walker, Epictetus in Poetical Paraphrase 34

XXXIV. 

You say you'd win the olive crown, and lust
To reap the harvest of th' Olympick dust;
That history may reckon by your name,
From the great year when such a one o'ercame;
'Tis brave, and by the gods I wish the same;
But then consider first what must be done,
Through what a course of hardships you must run
E'er you proceed, and what may be th' event,
And consequence of such a great attempt:
With a strict course of life you must begin,
Confin'd by methods and sharp discipline;
According to direction you must eat
Nothing that's boil'd, and such a kind of meat
As is allow'd' then you must drink no wine,
Nor yet cold water, and observe your time
For exercise, you must yourself inure,
The summer's heat and winter's cold t'indure.
These preparations made, you then must try,
If possible, to gain the victory,
And that not without labour, danger, harm,
Or loss of ribs, perhaps a leg or arm:
And when whole pecks of dust you've swallow'd down,
Been lash'd, and all things requisite have done,
'Tis possible that you may lose the crown.
These hazards when you throughly have survey'd,
You still may venture on; nor be dismay'd,
You'll find the burthen lighter which you've weigh'd,
Else you'll desist, and jade like wanton boys,
Who, tir'd and pleas'd with novelty of toys,
Scarce warm in one, begin another play,
And scorn the tedious sport of yesterday:
Who sometimes pipers, wrestlers represent,
Or with tough cudgel try their hardiment;
Sometimes the horn, or the shrill trumpet sound,
Act tragedies, and kill without a wound:
Thoughtless as they, one while your hand you'll try
In wrestling, fencing next, then poetry,
In rhet'rick, nay, perhaps philosophy,
But fail in each; and all these pains bestow,
Ridiculous as possible to grow,
And make a wond'rous bustle to express
A rev'rend, and more serious childishness,
Like a grave ape, whom nature did create
A type of you, who can but imitate;
Who one thing now, another straight admire,
Who, hurried on with violent desire,
Plunge over head and ears, before you know
How deep the silent smooth-fac'd waters flow,
Or weigh the hardships you must undergo.
Thus some, when any much-fam'd man they spy
Admir'd for wisdom, and for modesty,
Much listen'd to, and courted ev'ry where,
And then, perhaps, some grave quotation hear,
'How true speaks Socrates!  Nor can it be 
That any should discourse as well as he!
Are taken with an itch of being wise;
They too, forsooth, must needs philosophize. 

Sayings of Ramakrishna 183

Humanity must die before Divinity manifests itself. 

But this Divinity must, in turn, die before the higher manifestation of the Blissful Mother takes place. 

It is on the bosom of dead Divinity, Siva, that the Blissful Mother dances Her dance celestial. 

Seneca, Moral Letters 32.2

Hasten ahead, then, dearest Lucilius, and reflect how greatly you would quicken your speed if an enemy were at your back, or if you suspected the cavalry were approaching and pressing hard upon your steps as you fled. 

 

It is true; the enemy is indeed pressing upon you. You should therefore increase your speed and escape away and reach a safe position, remembering continually what a noble thing it is to round out your life before death comes, and then await in peace the remaining portion of your time, claiming nothing for yourself, since you are in possession of the happy life; for such a life is not made happier for being longer.

 

O when shall you see the time when you shall know that time means nothing to you, when you shall be peaceful and calm, careless of the morrow, because you are enjoying your life to the full? 

—from Seneca, Moral Letters 32 

 

I must not deceive myself into thinking that once I make an initial commitment to the Stoic Turn, all the benefits of serenity will come to me instantaneously and without effort. No, there will a mighty struggle on my part, not because the world needs to be conquered, but because I still need to conquer myself. While I possess all the tools, I am not yet trained in using them. 

 

I regularly come across people who have latched onto an ideal of immediate enlightenment, giving them the excuse to continue as they always were, while relying on some other mysterious force to resolve all their problems. Let me never run away from doing my own work. 

 

There will be doubt and fear, and it is within my power to redirect those inclinations toward a sense of rigor and urgency. Many images of danger or pressing need can help me through this, and it usually enough for me to simply remember that today could well be my last day. There is only so much time given, so I must make the most of what little I have. 

 

Sometimes I am so stubborn, however, that I require more of a push. In this day and age a cavalry charge is hard to come by, though as a child I did once see a mounted policeman chasing down a purse snatcher in the park, and that impressive memory perhaps comes close to the pressure Seneca describes. Yes, I should get a move on, because once I let down my guard there are all sorts of influences that can overtake me. 

 

I do not know if Seneca is discussing the lofty goal of becoming a true Stoic sage, or if he merely refers to an increasing feeling of peace that comes along the path, but I have tasted little bits of it, and I do know I have never been happier than when I am content to just be myself in good conscience, with no concerns about slaying foes or winning prizes. 

 

The urgency does not demand a state of panic, and yet if it can be done today, it should be done today. Then any of the circumstances that may befall me tomorrow will no longer weigh so heavily upon my mind. If I am living in harmony with Nature right here and now, I am satisfied to have done my duty. 

—Reflection written in 12/2012 

IMAGE: Elizabeth Thompson, Scotland Forever! The Charge of the Royal Scots Greys at Waterloo (1881)