Seneca,

So the close of this letter leaves us with several interesting points.

“But no man can be grateful unless he has learned to scorn the things which drive the common herd to distraction…”

Again, the call for training to be able to set aside the worldly things that hamper philosophy.  But we still hear that Stoics aren’t ascetics, they’re just trying to scorn worldly things… right.

“We are deflected from the right course by riches, titles, power, and everything which is valuable in our opinion but worthless when rated at its real value.”

Farewell.

Part of Michel Daw’s Reading Plan of Seneca’s Letters.

Seneca,

I’ll admit, when I hear other Stoics talk about gratitude, I found myself a little turned off.  Not because graciousness is bad, or even dispreferred, but mostly because there’s a large-ish push about gratitude in the fluffier self-help sections of the internet these days.  Of course, having a negative judgement against something because it might be popular in softer circles is just as much of an error of thinking about something positively because the cool kids are doing it.  So I’ve tried to set aside those preconceived notions, and read these section in the spirit in which their meant

“[T]he reward for all the virtues lies in the virtues themselves.”

This seems to me to be the test as to whether we’ve really internalized that virtue is the only good.  It’s not good because [something].  It simply is good.  When we get to the point that we can see the practice of inculcation of virtue as a self-fulfilling reward, I think we’re measurably closer to the goal.

“Let us therefore avoid being ungrateful, not for the sake of others but for our own sakes. When we do wrong, only the least and lightest portion of it flows back upon our neighbour; the worst and, if I may use the term, the densest portion of it stays at home and troubles the owner.”

In the Venn Diagram of “the golden rule” and “the Wiccan creed” lies your, Seneca, position on gratitude.  (;  This is a useful thought-model though.

“The ungrateful man tortures and torments himself; he hates the gifts which he has accepted, because he must make a return for them, and he tries to belittle their value, but he really enlarges and exaggerates the injuries which he has received. And what is more wretched than a man who forgets his benefits and clings to his injuries?”

This paragraph stuck out at me.  I recall getting gifts, and thinking immediately how I would repay it.  It never occurred to me that this was an ungrateful attitude.  That’s some serious food for thought today.

Farewell.

Part of Michel Daw’s Reading Plan of Seneca’s Letters.

Seneca,

This section of the letter is full of what I might call the “economic position on social interaction.”  We’re talking a lot about give and take, benefits or profits, capital and interest.  It reminded me of this, also:

“…[S]ince I thought it improper to take something from a person who had himself not received anything.”

— Ps-Diogenes, Cynic Epistle XXXVIII

The Cynic Epistle in question has a sort of capitalist tinge, that the mendicant philospher is giving just value for what we begs, namely his teachings and example.  Your Sage, however, seems to be concerned with giving better than she gets.  But we still see some of the former:

“For anyone who receives a benefit more gladly than he repays it is mistaken.”

Overall, this kind of example I think is a good one.  It take a rather heady subject and couches it in the very mundane sort of interaction we’re very familiar with.

Looking forward to the rest of the letter.

Farewell.

Part of Michel Daw’s Reading Plan of Seneca’s Letters.

Seneca,

My first reading of this was that we we’re going to see a contradiction from before, the extolling of retreat for philosophical practice would be contra this admonishment to mix even with many ungrateful persons that we find the few good ones.

“In order to discover one grateful person, it is worth while to make trial of many ungrateful ones.”

That certainly looks like a mark in the pro column for worldly engagement.  And then we have this:

“If one were compelled to drop everything that caused trouble, life would soon grow dull amid sluggish idleness…”

This is when I realized that we’re not talking about a retreat versus world issue, what we’re seeing is a test for what’s leftover.  We’re not abandoning life, or society.  We’re paring down, digging for the quality amongst the dross.

We’re not compelled to leave off everything, and what we do renounce should be towards a purpose, again not for mere dislike.

I look forward to the rest of the letter.

Farewell.

Part of Michel Daw’s Reading Plan of Seneca’s Letters.

Seneca,

This is an interesting, letter, and I thank you for it.  The part which stood out most to me is:

“[Y]ou can acquire virtue without equipment and without expense. All that goes to make you a good man lies within yourself.”

This is a helpful and needed reminder.  The intellectual work, while necessary, isn’t the end.  Once a firm grasp of the tenets of the School is had, practice is all that’s required.

Farewell.

Part of Michel Daw’s Reading Plan of Seneca’s Letters.

Seneca,

“Already much of the task is accomplished; nay, rather, if I can bring myself to confess the truth, not much. For goodness does not mean merely being better than the lowest. Who that could catch but a mere glimpse of the daylight would boast his powers of vision? One who sees the sun shining through a mist may be contented meanwhile that he has escaped darkness, but he does not yet enjoy the blessing of light.”

This is a keen reminder of how much work there is to do, despite how much may lay behind us.  There is also this list, which seems to be those who were virtuous.  It’s a rather long list, but if I’m not mistaken to say these had achieved virtue means that in your eyes, Seneca, these were Sages?  Or maybe you simply mean some of these were good men?

Democritus, Socrates, Cato, Rutilius, Epicurus, Metrodorus,

Epicurus is an interesting case, since he called himself a sage, and indeed said his own doctrine were wisdom.  That goes against the Socratic position, but considering Epicurus didn’t think so highly of Socrates, that’s not too surprising.  This question of Socrates is an interesting one as well, he clearly states that he knows nothing, but the Oracle said no were wiser.

So we’re left with three choices:

1. If none are wiser, and Socrates knows nothing then there is no wisdom, or at least no Sages.
2. If none are wiser, and Socrates simply doesn’t know that he’s wise, then there is wisdom, and is at least one Sage.
3. If none are wiser, and Socrates does know that he’s wise, then he’s at best misrepresenting and at worse lying.

The Stoics allow for position two, that a person might become wise, but not know of it right away, even though the change comes about in an instant.  This was problematic for the Epicureans who could not abide that a person would suddenly become wise, yet this one singular thing should then escape their notice.

It is the resolved that coming to wisdom is like coming to mastery in a craft, in that at some point we become proficient, but it’s only in looking back that we can see the point where the level of excellence became easy and consistent.  It is only from the prison cell, then, facing the end of his life that Socrates may have come to know that he was wise.  It seems wisdom in these cases, or at least the self-knowledge of it, is a parting gift.

Point three is the Epicurean position, that Socrates was being dishonest about his wisdom, and thus he refused to share it with his friends, the cardinal sin of the Garden.  Epicurus then, to the mind of that school, rightly breaks the tradition of explicitly not calling one’s self a Sage, says that he is and his doctrine is wisdom.

It’s interesting to see this longer list, Seneca, since usually we’re restricted to Socrates, Heracles, and Odyssius  (some will allow for Cato at your behest, but it’s fair to say not most).  The doctrine of the Sage is really interesting to me, and it’s one which had not garnered as much scholastic work as it deserves.

I’ve enjoyed reading Brouwer’s work “The Stoic Sage,” which touches on some of the issues which can be more difficult to hunt down with only the core canon.  It’s a touch pricey, though.

Farewell.

Part of Michel Daw’s Reading Plan of Seneca’s Letters.

Seneca
This letter reminds me of Natural Questions in which discussions of the facts of nature, as then understood, are punctuated by moral and ethical discussions.  This is an interesting style, and if it’s common, your writings, Seneca, are my only exposure to it.

“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.”

This is an interesting point.  I think the common conception of a certain achievement, or excellence, is that the people who have them are cookie-cutter standouts of the same type.  You see this in people dedicated to certain styles of life.  Priests, monks, nuns, sadhus, whatever:  people expect one type, but like any walk of life, there are many kinds of folks on that path.

It’s interesting to apply to the Sage.

“[V]irtue 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.”

Farewell.

Part of Michel Daw’s Reading Plan of Seneca’s Letters.

Seneca,

There does seem to be an interesting double-thinking occuring in this article.  It may be that it’s a rhetorical device, but it’s a thing I too have been thinking about lately.  It is true, as you say:

“[T]he thirstier a man is, the more he enjoys a drink; the hungrier he is, the more pleasure he takes in food. Whatever falls to one’s lot after a period of abstinence is welcomed with greater zest.”

This is exactly the Epicurean position, that by abstaining from the fanciest of things, we are able to take pleasure in mere barley cakes and water.  And pleasure, or lack of pain, is the Epicurean goal.

The Stoic twist, then, should be that although there is a body-pleasure, and even its perception may be increased by our training, it is still an indifferent.  It’s important to remember that the increased pleasure should not become the focus of the training.

I wonder, though, if as a stepping stone, that’s an appropriate thought during training.  To be able to hold off now for the future pleasure?  Epictetus gives us a similar trick:

‘If you are struck by the appearance of any promised pleasure, guard yourself against being hurried away by it; but let the affair wait your leisure, and procure yourself some delay. Then bring to your mind both points of time: that in which you will enjoy the pleasure, and that in which you will repent and reproach yourself after you have enjoyed it; and set before you, in opposition to these, how you will be glad and applaud yourself if you abstain.”

—Epictetus, Enchiridion 34

Which bears a similarity to a Fragment of Musonius, explicitly playing of the Epicurean position, it seems.

“If one were to measure what is agreeable by the standard of pleasure, nothing would be pleasanter than self-control; and if one were to measure what is to be avoided by pain, nothing would be more painful than lack of self-control.”

— Musonius, Fragment 24

It seems to me, that this sort of an aid to training, as an intermediary argument for the person just starting in philosophy, considering the practices of philosophy as a pleasure with which the uninstructed person is already attached has a fair broad basis in the text.

At some point, however, that needs to flip, and the προκόπτων must come to the understanding that:

“[A]ny life must seem short to those who measure its length by pleasures which are empty and for that reason unbounded.”

Farewell.

Part of Michel Daw’s Reading Plan of Seneca’s Letters.

Seneca,

The comparison to athletic training is an apt one, since we often use it to discuss philosophical training.  Sickness seems to present itself as an “earlier than we expected” excericse.  Like the gym or the dojo, we train in the school of philosophy, but our training is meant to be carried out and used in the real world.  We sweat in the gym to avoid bleeding in the street.

Sickness, then, for the new philosopher can seem like a post-graduate exam when we’re really just getting our feet wet in the general curriculum of under-grad.  But it’s not up to us when such challenges are presented.

So let us also win the way to victory in all our struggles, – for the reward is not a garland or a palm or a trumpeter who calls for silence at the proclamation of our names, but rather virtue, steadfastness of soul, and a peace that is won for all time, if fortune has once been utterly vanquished in any combat.

This section stuck out at me when I was in pain.  It was these couple lines that rallied my spirit when instead I was wallowing in self-pity.

Do you think that you are doing nothing if you possess self-control in your illness? You will be showing that a disease can be overcome, or at any rate endured. There is, I assure you, a place for virtue even upon a bed of sickness. It is not only the sword and the battle-line that prove the soul alert and unconquered by fear; a man can display bravery even when wrapped in his bed-clothes.

Thank you for the words.

Farewell.

Part of Michel Daw’s Reading Plan of Seneca’s Letters.

Seneca,

As I said yesterday, my first real attempt at reading this Letter and putting it into practice was a couple of months ago during my second (but first known to me) gout flare up.

“The reason, however, why the inexperienced are impatient when their bodies suffer is, that they have not accustomed themselves to be contented in spirit. They have been closely associated with the body. Therefore a high-minded and sensible man divorces soul from body, and dwells much with the better or divine part, and only as far as he must with this complaining and frail portion.”

There is a despising of the body present in Epictetus which is not found in earlier Stoic texts.  It’s a pretty serious change to my mind.  Generally, my understanding, is that the ancient perspective was not really of two things mind-body, but a sort of mixing of the two.  Each equally important, but different.  In Epictetus we start to see a shift away from that.  Maybe that’s just him, or maybe it’s trend towards the modern perspective.

Either way, the idea is clearly easier for we moderns to grok, since our society today is firmly Cartesian, even if some scientists argue the mind is no more than an epiphenomenon of networked cells.

“…to fast, to feel thirst and hunger.” These are indeed serious when one first abstains from them. Later the desire dies down, because the appetites themselves which lead to desire are wearied and forsake us; then the stomach becomes petulant, then the food which we craved before becomes hateful. Our very wants die away. But there is no bitterness in doing without that which you have ceased to desire.”

I’m seeing this myself with the appropriately named Camp Seneca.  The first day of one meal a day was mildly difficult, but as the days go on (we’re on Day 5 at the time of this writing), the twinges of the body are less and less as it becomes accustomed to the new regime.

“Pain is slight if opinion has added nothing to it; but if, on the other hand, you begin to encourage yourself and say, “It is nothing, – a trifling matter at most; keep a stout heart and it will soon cease”; then in thinking it slight, you will make it slight. Everything depends on opinion; ambition, luxury, greed, hark back to opinion. It is according to opinion that we suffer.”

This where training and preconceptions come into play.  We might have convinced ourselves that we’ve eliminated or changed the way we think about a thing, and then the universe plops into our laps a swelling of the joints so painful the weight of the body itself or a even a sheet seems too much to bear.  Then we get the reality check.

“[E]very one adds much to his own ills, and tells lies to himself.”

Farewell.

Part of Michel Daw’s Reading Plan of Seneca’s Letters.