29/75: Faults

     In the passage quoted in my previous blog post, Seneca expresses the hope that his own faults will die before him. But in Letter 29 to Lucilius, Seneca discuses the faults of their mutual friend Marcellinus:
          "He can still be saved, but only if a hand is extended to him right away. Indeed, there is a danger that he will drag the rescuer down with him; for his intellect is very forceful, but tending just now toward ill. Nonetheless, I will go to meet this danger; I will dare to show him his faults. He will do what he usually does: he will pass it off with jokes that would make even a mourner laugh; he'll make fun of himself first, and then make fun of me; he'll deflect everything I am about to say. He'll scrutinize our [Stoic] school and find objections to throw at our philosophers -- payoffs, girlfriends, gluttony."
     A list of what the Stoics (or at least Seneca) considered to be faults can be found in his Letter 75; it includes anger, lust, desire, and fear.  Seneca goes on to equate faults with mental infirmities:
          "The infirmities are faults that have become ingrained and hard, like greed and ambition. These are conditions that bind the mind much more tightly and have begun to be permanent afflictions. To give a brief definition, an infirmity is a persistent judgment in a corrupted person that certain things are very much worth pursuing that in fact are only slightly worth pursuing. Or, if you prefer, we can define it this way: it is being overly concerned with things that one ought to pursue either casually or not at all, or considering something to be of great value when in fact it is either of some lesser value or of no value at all."
     On some days, it seems to me as though a list of my own faults would be far too long for just one blog post. However, on others days, I believe that I have come to the point in life where I know the things which are worth pursuing -- as well as those things that are not.
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     Seneca, Letters on Ethics to Lucilius, Translated with an Introduction and Commentary by Margaret Graver and A.A. Long (University of Chicago Press, Chicago and London, 2015), Letter 29, 4-6, page 99; Letter 75, 11-14, page 238.

23: Emptiness, West And East

     The twenty-third letter to Lucilius finds Seneca moving away from the campaign to get his friend to retire from the position of provincial governor. Seneca begins by telling Lucilius that he is not going to write about banalities like how mild the weather has been; instead, Seneca will talk about something that will benefit both of them: an exhortation toward excellence of mind -- "Would you like to know what it is that such excellence is founded upon? It is this: don't rejoice in empty things. ... As for your paltry body, it is true that nothing can be done without it, but think of it as a necessary thing rather than as something great. The pleasures it accumulates are empty, short, and regrettable ... ."
     While the concept of emptiness did not play a major role in Seneca's philosophy, the idea figures prominently in Mahayana Buddhism. Like Theravada Buddhism, which began in ancient India and spread south to what is now Sri Lanka, the Mahayana school began in India but spread north to Tibet and northeast to China. According to Kazuaki Tanahashi, in his excellent The Heart Sutra: A Comprehensive Guide to the Classic of Mahayana Buddhism, the Heart Sutra is the scripture most often recited by Mahayana Buddhists around the world. The Heart Sutra begins with Avalokitesvara, who was one of the Buddha's senior disciples, answering the question posed by another senior disciple, Sariputra:
          "O, Sariputra, a Noble Son or Daughter who wishes to engage in the profound activities of the Perfection of Wisdom should consider thusly ... Form is empty. Emptiness is form. Emptiness is not other than form, nor is form other than emptiness. Similarly, sensations, conceptions, formations, and consciousness are empty. Sariputra, in that way all phenomenon are emptiness. They have no characteristics. They are not born. They do not cease. There is no defilement. There is no lack of defilement. There is no taking away, and there is no filling. O Sariputra, therefore, in emptiness there is no form, no sensation, no conception, no formations, no consciousness. There is no eye, no nose, no ear, no tongue, no body, no mind. There is no form, no sound, no scent, no taste, no touch, and no phenomenon. There is no visual sphere, and on through to no mental sphere, up to: there being no sphere of mental consciousness either. There is no ignorance, nor is there anything from elimination of ignorance to there being no aging and death, up to: there being no end to aging and death either. ... There is no primordial wisdom, there is no attainment, and there is no non-attainment. ... Because there is no obstruction to the mind, there is no fear. ... " 
     This English translation, by the way, is one of several set forth in an appendix to Tanahashi's work, along with translations from multiple Asian languages. It was translated from Tibetan by Christian P.B. Haskett. Personally, I find this view of emptiness to be fascinating. But I am also troubled by the idea's philosophical -- especially ethical -- implications: if everything is empty, then isn't everything permitted? That is, why not just say or do whatever brings you pleasure, regardless of the impact it has on others?
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     Seneca, Letters on Ethics to Lucilius, Translated with an Introduction and Commentary by Margaret Graver and A.A. Long (University of Chicago Press, Chicago and London, 2015), Letter 23, 1, page 82; 6, page 83.
     Kazuaki Tanahashi, The Heart Sutra: A Comprehensive Guide to the Classic of Mahayana Buddhism (Shambhala, Boston & London, 2014), Appendix 1: Texts for Comparison, pages 225-226.

15: On A Lighter Note ...

     In looking back on my most recent blog posts, one could fairly accuse me of focusing on the darker side of things. However, in the course of reading Seneca, I have learned that not all of his letters are unrelentingly serious. In the fifteenth letter, for example, Seneca advises his friend Lucilius to focus more attention on mental health rather than on the body's condition. Regarding exercise, Seneca writes:
          "It is foolish, dear Lucilius, and unbefitting an educated man, to busy oneself with exercising the muscles, broadening the shoulders, and strengthening the torso. You may have great success with your training diet and your bodybuilding, but never will you match the strength and weight of a prime ox. Besides, your mind is then weighed down by a more burdensome body, and is less agile as a result. Restrict your body, then, as much as you can, and give more latitude to the mind. Those who are obsessed with such a regimen incur many discomforts. ... Drinking and sweating -- a life full of heartburn! There are ways of exercising that are easy and quick, that give the body a workout without taking up too much time -- for time is what we have to keep track of more than anything: running, and arm movements with various weights, and jumping, either the high jump or the long jump, or the dance jump ... . Choose whichever you like, and make it easy by practice. But whatever you do, return quickly from the body to the mind and exercise that, night and day. A moderate effort is enough to nourish it, and its exercise is such as neither cold nor heat will hamper, nor even old age. Tend to the good that gets better with time. I am not telling you to be always pouring over a book or tablet: the mind should have some respite, but to relax, not to become lax."
     In my own life, I spent a significant amount of time lifting weights during my mid-teens to mid-twenties, with the public reason that it would make me a better athlete, but with the private hope that I would end up looking like Arnold Schwarzenegger in his Mr. Olympia days. While I did become somewhat stronger and more muscular, no one would have mistaken me for a professional bodybuilder. In my late twenties through late forties, my main form of exercise was distance running, yet I was never more than a middle-of-the-pack runner, even on my fastest days. Following a leg injury, I had to give up running, and switched to walking; recently, I decided to add some circuit training to increase my heart rate (as my cardiologist advised). Because it seems like the thing my body is best suited for is sitting on the sofa and drinking beer, I think Seneca would agree that the time spent on my blog is time well spent.
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     Seneca, Letters on Ethics to Lucilius, Translated with an Introduction and Commentary by Margaret Graver and A.A. Long (University of Chicago Press, Chicago and London, 2015), Letter 15, 2-6, page 60. 

98: Fortune And Misfortune

     One of the concepts that comes up most frequently in Seneca's letters to his friend Lucilius is fortune. If one were to make a list of the letters in which the word "fortune" appears and a list of the letters in which it does not occur, I think the first list would be longer than the second. In Letter 98, for example, Seneca writes:
          "All the things that fortune favors become fruitful and pleasant only if those who possess them are also in possession of themselves and not in the power of their property. It is a mistake, Lucilius, to judge fortune responsible for anything that is good or bad for us. Fortune merely gives us the material for good and bad things -- the preliminaries for what will either turn out to be good or bad within us. For the mind is more powerful than every act of fortune: by itself the mind guides its affairs one way or the other, and is the cause of a happy or unhappy life for itself. A bad mind turns everything into bad, even things that have arrived looking excellent. A mind that is upright and sound corrects fortune's wrongs, softens its hardness and roughness with the knowledge of how to endure, receives prosperity with gratitude and moderation, and shows firmness and fortitude in face of adversity. You could be sensible, do everything with good judgment and never exceed your strength, but you will not achieve the good that is sound and beyond threat unless you are secure in dealing with what is insecure."
     In my own case, I have had a brush with misfortune recently (thankfully not a very serious brush, but a brush nonetheless). Regular readers of this blog may recall that I took early retirement last year, and that it was several months before I found another job. Eventually, I accepted a position as a contract attorney on a project that was supposed to last six months. However, after three months, myself and the other 20 or so other lawyers on the project were told -- with less than one day's warning -- that the job was ending early (we were not told why). Following Seneca's advice, I attempted to focus my mind on finding another position, and -- fortunately -- found a new project within about a week. Although this job is expected to last around a month, I hope the episode has taught me the importance of not dwelling upon what many would characterize as "bad luck" (the modern term for misfortune) but rather to be comfortable with insecurity.
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     Seneca, Letters on Ethics to Lucilius, Translated with an Introduction and Commentary by Margaret Graver and A.A. Long (University of Chicago Press, Chicago and London, 2015), Letter 98, 2-3, pages 386-387. 

10: What Should One Wish Or Pray For?

     The subjects of praying and wishing come up often in Seneca's letters to his friend Lucilius. For example, in the tenth letter, Seneca advises Lucilius that, if he is going to pray to the gods, he should ask them for excellence of mind and mental well being before asking for physical health. And in Letter 32, there is the following extraordinary passage:
          "There were other things your parents wished for you to have; what I wish for you is to have contempt for all their bountiful wishes. In their prayers, many are robbed to make you rich: whatever they transfer to you, they must take from someone else. My wish is this: may you be your own master; may your mind, which is now driven this way and that by its concerns, come at last to a halt, sure and content in itself; may you come to understand those true goods that belong to you in the moment you understand them, and feel no need of additional years. In order to rise above necessities, to gain one's discharge, to be free, one must live a life that is already complete."
     The initial purpose of this blog was to explore the concept of moderation. So my readers will perhaps not find it surprising that I consider myself to be an agnostic, one who has not taken a final position on the issue of whether God exists or does not exist (arguably, both extreme positions). Seneca was most certainly not an agnostic, a topic I intend to explore in another post. And -- contrary to Seneca's advice -- when I have prayed, it has usually been for the physical health of those close to me: my wife, during her two battles with cancer; my mother, when her appendix burst and she had to have emergency surgery; and my aunt, during her two battles with cancer (the second of which has just started). I do not think that such prayers are inconsistent with moderation. But perhaps I am guilty of the charge often leveled against moderates -- that we like to have our cake and eat it, too.
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     Seneca, Letters on Ethics to Lucilius, Translated with an Introduction and Commentary by Margaret Graver and A.A. Long (University of Chicago Press, Chicago and London, 2015), Letter 10, 4, page 45; see also Letter 32, 4-5, page 109.