“We don’t beat the Reaper by living longer. We beat the Reaper by living well.”— Randy Pausch (1960-2008), The Last Lecture at Carnegie Mellon
This week, one of my friends died after a long battle with pancreatic cancer. He was in his early 30’s.
Several hours after I learned of his passing, I received an e-mail from my parents: the 10-year old daughter of a dear high school coach had been diagnosed with liver cancer. The Reaper does not discriminate. Too often, we spend time focusing on the trivial with people who contribute nothing but their own self-interest.
How do we balance protecting time with protecting relationships? How do we conquer guilt and do what is truly most important?
I often read “On The Shortness of Life,” one of Lucius Seneca‘s most famous letters, whenever I succumb to social pressure to treat time as less valuable than income, or whenever I find myself agreeing to help those who make unreasonable requests and get upset otherwise.
Seneca’s masterful diatribe hit me like a much-needed sledgehammer, and I’ve included it below. He soon became my favorite Stoic philosopher—to the point that I created The Tao of Seneca—and this will help you understand why…
For a quick 4-minute overview, read the bolded passages, which I highlighted when I read it the first time. That said, I implore you to print out the entire 12-page piece and read it over the weekend or one slow evening. I’ve found that each person identifies with different passages. Take the time — it is something you could well refer to for the rest of your life.
This version was translated by John W. Basore (London: William Heinemann, 1932) and is in the public domain. I’ve shortened and edited some passages to reflect more idiomatic modern English, but it is otherwise unchanged. My favorite translation, though it omits some outstanding anecdotes I’ve included here, is by C.D.N. Costa and featured in “Seneca: Dialogues and Letters.”
Time is non-renewable, and “On The Shortness of Life” helps put this in practical context with real situational examples, all as relevant now as during the reign of Nero.
I hope you find this as helpful as I have.
Total read time (bolded highlights): 4 minutes
Total read time (comprehensive): 25-30 minutes
On The Shortness of Life – Lucius Seneca
The majority of mortals, Paulinus, complain bitterly of the spitefulness of Nature, because we are born for a brief span of life, because even this space that has been granted to us rushes by so speedily and so swiftly that all save a very few find life at an end just when they are getting ready to live.
Nor is it merely the common herd and the unthinking crowd that bemoan what is, as men deem it, an universal ill; the same feeling has called forth complaint also from men who were famous…
It is not that we have a short space of time, but that we waste much of it. Life is long enough, and it has been given in sufficiently generous measure to allow the accomplishment of the very greatest things if the whole of it is well invested. But when it is squandered in luxury and carelessness, when it is devoted to no good end, forced at last by the ultimate necessity we perceive that it has passed away before we were aware that it was passing. So it is—the life we receive is not short, but we make it so, nor do we have any lack of it, but are wasteful of it. Just as great and princely wealth is scattered in a moment when it comes into the hands of a bad owner, while wealth however limited, if it is entrusted to a good guardian, increases by use, so our life is amply long for him who orders it properly.
Why do we complain of Nature? She has shown herself kindly; life, if you know how to use it, is long. But one man is possessed by greed that is insatiable, another by a toilsome devotion to tasks that are useless; one man is besotted with wine, another is paralyzed by sloth; one man is exhausted by an ambition that always hangs upon the decision of others, another, driven on by the greed of the trader, is led over all lands and all seas by the hope of gain; some are tormented by a passion for war and are always either bent upon inflicting danger upon others or concerned about their own; some there are who are worn out by voluntary servitude in a thankless attendance upon the great; many are kept busy either in the pursuit of other men’s fortune or in complaining of their own; many, following no fixed aim, shifting and inconstant and dissatisfied, are plunged by their fickleness into plans that are ever new; some have no fixed principle by which to direct their course, but Fate takes them unawares while they loll and yawn—so surely does it happen that I cannot doubt the truth of that utterance which the greatest of poets delivered with all the seeming of an oracle: “The part of life we really live is small.” For all the rest of existence is not life, but merely time.
Vices beset us and surround us on every side, and they do not permit us to rise anew and lift up our eyes for the discernment of truth, but they keep us down when once they have overwhelmed us and we are chained to lust. Their victims are never allowed to return to their true selves; if ever they chance to find some release, like the waters of the deep sea which continue to heave even after the storm is past, they are tossed about, and no rest from their lusts abides. Think you that I am speaking of the wretches whose evils are admitted? Look at those whose prosperity men flock to behold; they are smothered by their blessings. To how many are riches a burden! From how many do eloquence and the daily straining to display their powers draw forth blood! How many are pale from constant pleasures! To how many does the throng of clients that crowd about them leave no freedom! In short, run through the list of all these men from the lowest to the highest—this man desires an advocate, this one answers the call, that one is on trial, that one defends him, that one gives sentence; no one asserts his claim to himself, everyone is wasted for the sake of another. Ask about the men whose names are known by heart, and you will see that these are the marks that distinguish them: A cultivates B and B cultivates C; no one is his own master. And then certain men show the most senseless indignation—they complain of the insolence of their superiors, because they were too busy to see them when they wished an audience! But can anyone have the hardihood to complain of the pride of another when he himself has no time to attend to himself? After all, no matter who you are, the great man does sometimes look toward you even if his face is insolent, he does sometimes condescend to listen to your words, he permits you to appear at his side; but you never deign to look upon yourself, to give ear to yourself. There is no reason, therefore, to count anyone in debt for such services, seeing that, when you performed them, you had no wish for another’s company, but could not endure your own.
Though all the brilliant intellects of the ages were to concentrate upon this one theme, never could they adequately express their wonder at this dense darkness of the human mind. Men do not suffer anyone to seize their estates, and they rush to stones and arms if there is even the slightest dispute about the limit of their lands, yet they allow others to trespass upon their life—nay, they themselves even lead in those who will eventually possess it. No one is to be found who is willing to distribute his money, yet among how many does each one of us distribute his life! In guarding their fortune men are often closefisted, yet, when it comes to the matter of wasting time, in the case of the one thing in which it is right to be miserly, they show themselves most prodigal. And so I should like to lay hold upon someone from the company of older men and say: “I see that you have reached the farthest limit of human life, you are pressing hard upon your hundredth year, or are even beyond it; come now, recall your life and make a reckoning. Consider how much of your time was taken up with a moneylender, how much with a mistress, how much with a patron, how much with a client, how much in wrangling with your wife, how much in punishing your slaves, how much in rushing about the city on social duties. Add the diseases which we have caused by our own acts, add, too, the time that has lain idle and unused; you will see that you have fewer years to your credit than you count. Look back in memory and consider when you ever had a fixed plan, how few days have passed as you had intended, when you were ever at your own disposal, when your face ever wore its natural expression, when your mind was ever unperturbed, what work you have achieved in so long a life, how many have robbed you of life when you were not aware of what you were losing, how much was taken up in useless sorrow, in foolish joy, in greedy desire, in the allurements of society, how little of yourself was left to you; you will perceive that you are dying before your season!” What, then, is the reason of this? You live as if you were destined to live forever, no thought of your frailty ever enters your head, of how much time has already gone by you take no heed. You squander time as if you drew from a full and abundant supply, though all the while that day which you bestow on some person or thing is perhaps your last. You have all the fears of mortals and all the desires of immortals. You will hear many men saying: “After my fiftieth year I shall retire into leisure, my sixtieth year shall release me from public duties.” And what guarantee, pray, have you that your life will last longer? Who will suffer your course to be just as you plan it? Are you not ashamed to reserve for yourself only the remnant of life, and to set apart for wisdom only that time which cannot be devoted to any business? How late it is to begin to live just when we must cease to live! What foolish forgetfulness of mortality to postpone wholesome plans to the fiftieth and sixtieth year, and to intend to begin life at a point to which few have attained!
You will see that the most powerful and highly placed men let drop remarks in which they long for leisure, acclaim it, and prefer it to all their blessings. They desire at times, if it could be with safety, to descend from their high pinnacle; for, though nothing from without should assail or shatter, Fortune of its very self comes crashing down.
The deified Augustus, to whom the gods vouchsafed more than to any other man, did not cease to pray for rest and to seek release from public affairs; all his conversation ever reverted to this subject—his hope of leisure. This was the sweet, even if vain, consolation with which he would gladden his labours—that he would one day live for himself. In a letter addressed to the senate, in which he had promised that his rest would not be devoid of dignity nor inconsistent with his former glory, I find these words: “But these matters can be shown better by deeds than by promises. Nevertheless, since the joyful reality is still far distant, my desire for that time most earnestly prayed for has led me to forestall some of its delight by the pleasure of words.” So desirable a thing did leisure seem that he anticipated it in thought because he could not attain it in reality. He who saw everything depending upon himself alone, who determined the fortune of individuals and of nations, thought most happily of that future day on which he should lay aside his greatness. He had discovered how much sweat those blessings that shone throughout all lands drew forth, how many secret worries they concealed. Forced to pit arms first against his countrymen, then against his colleagues, and lastly against his relatives, he shed blood on land and sea.
Through Macedonia, Sicily, Egypt, Syria, and Asia, and almost all countries he followed the path of battle, and when his troops were weary of shedding Roman blood, he turned them to foreign wars. While he was pacifying the Alpine regions, and subduing the enemies planted in the midst of a peaceful empire, while he was extending its bounds even beyond the Rhine and the Euphrates and the Danube, in Rome itself the swords of Murena, Caepio, Lepidus, Egnatius, and others were being whetted to slay him. Not yet had he escaped their plots, when his daughter and all the noble youths who were bound to her by adultery as by a sacred oath, oft alarmed his failing years—and there was Paulus, and a second time the need to fear a woman in league with an Antony. When be had cut away these ulcers together with the limbs themselves, others would grow in their place; just as in a body that was overburdened with blood, there was always a rupture somewhere. And so he longed for leisure, in the hope and thought of which he found relief for his labours. This was the prayer of one who was able to answer the prayers of mankind.
Marcus Cicero, long flung among men like Catiline and Clodius and Pompey and Crassus, some open enemies, others doubtful friends, as he is tossed to and fro along with the state and seeks to keep it from destruction, to be at last swept away, unable as he was to be restful in prosperity or patient in adversity—how many times does he curse that very consulship of his, which he had lauded without end, though not without reason! How tearful the words he uses in a letter written to Atticus, when Pompey the elder had been conquered, and the son was still trying to restore his shattered arms in Spain! “Do you ask,” he said, “what I am doing here? I am lingering in my Tusculan villa half a prisoner.” He then proceeds to other statements, in which he bewails his former life and complains of the present and despairs of the future. Cicero said that he was “half a prisoner.” But, in very truth, never will the wise man resort to so lowly a term, never will he be half a prisoner—he who always possesses an undiminished and stable liberty, being free and his own master and towering over all others. For what can possibly be above him who is above Fortune?
When Livius Drusus, a bold and energetic man, had with the support of a huge crowd drawn from all Italy proposed new laws and the evil measures of the Gracchi, seeing no way out for his policy, which he could neither carry through nor abandon when once started on, he is said to have complained bitterly against the life of unrest he had had from the cradle, and to have exclaimed that he was the only person who had never had a holiday even as a boy. For, while he was still a ward and wearing the dress of a boy, he had had the courage to commend to the favour of a jury those who were accused, and to make his influence felt in the law-courts, so powerfully, indeed, that it is very well known that in certain trials he forced a favourable verdict. To what lengths was not such premature ambition destined to go? One might have known that such precocious hardihood would result in great personal and public misfortune. And so it was too late for him to complain that he had never had a holiday when from boyhood he had been a trouble-maker and a nuisance in the forum. It is a question whether he died by his own hand; for he fell from a sudden wound received in his groin, some doubting whether his death was voluntary, no one, whether it was timely.
It would be superfluous to mention more who, though others deemed them the happiest of men, have expressed their loathing for every act of their years, and with their own lips have given true testimony against themselves; but by these complaints they changed neither themselves nor others. For when they have vented their feelings in words, they fall back into their usual round. Heaven knows! such lives as yours, though they should pass the limit of a thousand years, will shrink into the merest span; your vices will swallow up any amount of time. The space you have, which reason can prolong, although it naturally hurries away, of necessity escapes from you quickly; for you do not seize it, you neither hold it back, nor impose delay upon the swiftest thing in the world, but you allow it to slip away as if it were something superfluous and that could be replaced.
But among the worst I count also those who have time for nothing but wine and lust; for none have more shameful engrossments. The others, even if they are possessed by the empty dream of glory, nevertheless go astray in a seemly manner; though you should cite to me the men who are avaricious, the men who are wrathful, whether busied with unjust hatreds or with unjust wars, these all sin in more manly fashion. But those who are plunged into the pleasures of the belly and into lust bear a stain that is dishonourable. Search into the hours of all these people, see how much time they give to accounts, how much to laying snares, how much to fearing them, how much to paying court, how much to being courted, how much is taken up in giving or receiving bail, how much by banquets—for even these have now become a matter of business—, and you will see how their interests, whether you call them evil or good, do not allow them time to breathe.
Finally, everybody agrees that no one pursuit can be successfully followed by a man who is preoccupied with many things—eloquence cannot, nor the liberal studies—since the mind, when distracted, takes in nothing very deeply, but rejects everything that is, as it were, crammed into it. There is nothing the busy man is less busied with than living: there is nothing that is harder to learn. Of the other arts there are many teachers everywhere; some of them we have seen that mere boys have mastered so thoroughly that they could even play the master. It takes the whole of life to learn how to live, and—what will perhaps make you wonder more—it takes the whole of life to learn how to die. Many very great men, having laid aside all their encumbrances, having renounced riches, business, and pleasures, have made it their one aim up to the very end of life to know how to live; yet the greater number of them have departed from life confessing that they did not yet know—still less do those others know. Believe me, it takes a great man and one who has risen far above human weaknesses not to allow any of his time to be filched from him, and it follows that the life of such a man is very long because he has devoted wholly to himself whatever time he has had. None of it lay neglected and idle; none of it was under the control of another, for, guarding it most grudgingly, he found nothing that was worthy to be taken in exchange for his time. And so that man had time enough, but those who have been robbed of much of their life by the public, have necessarily had too little of it.
And there is no reason for you to suppose that these people are not sometimes aware of their loss. Indeed, you will hear many of those who are burdened by great prosperity cry out at times in the midst of their throngs of clients, or their pleadings in court, or their other glorious miseries: “I have no chance to live.” Of course you have no chance! All those who summon you to themselves, turn you away from your own self. Of how many days has that defendant robbed you? Of how many that candidate? Of how many that old woman wearied with burying her heirs? Of how many that man who is shamming sickness for the purpose of exciting the greed of the legacy-hunters? Of how many that very powerful friend who has you and your like on the list, not of his friends, but of his retinue? Check off, I say, and review the days of your life; you will see that very few, and those the refuse. have been left for you. That man who had prayed for the fasces, when he attains them, desires to lay them aside and says over and over: “When will this year be over!” That man gives games, and, after setting great value on gaining the chance to give them, now says: “When shall I be rid of them?” That advocate is lionized throughout the whole forum, and fills all the place with a great crowd that stretches farther than he can be heard, yet he says: “When will vacation time come?” Everyone hurries his life on and suffers from a yearning for the future and a weariness of the present. But he who bestows all of his time on his own needs, who plans out every day as if it were his last, neither longs for nor fears the morrow. For what new pleasure is there that any hour can now bring? They are all known, all have been enjoyed to the full. Mistress Fortune may deal out the rest as she likes; his life has already found safety. Something may be added to it, but nothing taken from it, and he will take any addition as the man who is satisfied and filled takes the food which he does not desire and yet can hold. And so there is no reason for you to think that any man has lived long because he has grey hairs or wrinkles; he has not lived long—he has existed long. For what if you should think that that man had had a long voyage who had been caught by a fierce storm as soon as he left harbour, and, swept hither and thither by a succession of winds that raged from different quarters, had been driven in a circle around the same course? Not much voyaging did he have, but much tossing about.
I am often filled with wonder when I see some men demanding the time of others and those from whom they ask it most indulgent. Both of them fix their eyes on the object of the request for time, neither of them on the time itself; just as if what is asked were nothing, what is given, nothing. Men trifle with the most precious thing in the world; but they are blind to it because it is an incorporeal thing, because it does not come beneath the sight of the eyes, and for this reason it is counted a very cheap thing—nay, of almost no value at all. Men set very great store by pensions and doles, and for these they hire out their labour or service or effort. But no one sets a value on time; all use it lavishly as if it cost nothing. But see how these same people clasp the knees of physicians if they fall ill and the danger of death draws nearer, see how ready they are, if threatened with capital punishment, to spend all their possessions in order to live! So great is the inconsistency of their feelings. But if each one could have the number of his future years set before him as is possible in the case of the years that have passed, how alarmed those would be who saw only a few remaining, how sparing of them would they be! And yet it is easy to dispense an amount that is assured, no matter how small it may be; but that must be guarded more carefully which will fail you know not when.
Yet there is no reason for you to suppose that these people do not know how precious a thing time is; for to those whom they love most devotedly they have a habit of saying that they are ready to give them a part of their own years. And they do give it, without realizing it; but the result of their giving is that they themselves suffer loss without adding to the years of their dear ones. But the very thing they do not know is whether they are suffering loss; therefore, the removal of something that is lost without being noticed they find is bearable. Yet no one will bring back the years, no one will bestow you once more on yourself. Life will follow the path it started upon, and will neither reverse nor check its course; it will make no noise, it will not remind you of its swiftness. Silent it will glide on; it will not prolong itself at the command of a king, or at the applause of the populace. Just as it was started on its first day, so it will run; nowhere will it turn aside, nowhere will it delay. And what will be the result? You have been engrossed, life hastens by; meanwhile death will be at hand, for which, willy nilly, you must find leisure.
Can anything be sillier than the point of view of certain people—I mean those who boast of their foresight? They keep themselves very busily engaged in order that they may be able to live better; they spend life in making ready to live! They form their purposes with a view to the distant future; yet postponement is the greatest waste of life; it deprives them of each day as it comes, it snatches from them the present by promising something hereafter. The greatest hindrance to living is expectancy, which depends upon the morrow and wastes to-day. You dispose of that which lies in the hands of Fortune, you let go that which lies in your own. Whither do you look? At what goal do you aim? All things that are still to come lie in uncertainty; live straightway! See how the greatest of bards cries out, and, as if inspired with divine utterance, sings the saving strain:
The fairest day in hapless mortals’ life
Is ever first to flee.
“Why do you delay,” says he, “Why are you idle? Unless you seize the day, it flees.” Even though you seize it, it still will flee; therefore you must vie with time’s swiftness in the speed of using it, and, as from a torrent that rushes by and will not always flow, you must drink quickly. And, too, the utterance of the bard is most admirably worded to cast censure upon infinite delay, in that he says, not “the fairest age,” but “the fairest day.” Why, to whatever length your greed inclines, do you stretch before yourself months and years in long array, unconcerned and slow though time flies so fast? The poet speaks to you about the day, and about this very day that is flying. Is there, then, any doubt that for hapless mortals, that is, for men who are engrossed, the fairest day is ever the first to flee? Old age surprises them while their minds are still childish, and they come to it unprepared and unarmed, for they have made no provision for it; they have stumbled upon it suddenly and unexpectedly, they did not notice that it was drawing nearer day by day. Even as conversation or reading or deep meditation on some subject beguiles the traveller, and he finds that he has reached the end of his journey before he was aware that he was approaching it, just so with this unceasing and most swift journey of life, which we make at the same pace whether waking or sleeping; those who are engrossed become aware of it only at the end.
Should I choose to divide my subject into heads with their separate proofs, many arguments will occur to me by which I could prove that busy men find life very short. But Fabianus, who was none of your lecture-room philosophers of to-day, but one of the genuine and old-fashioned kind, used to say that we must fight against the passions with main force, not with artifice, and that the battle-line must be turned by a bold attack, not by inflicting pinpricks; that sophistry is not serviceable, for the passions must be, not nipped, but crushed. Yet, in order that the victims of them nay be censured, each for his own particular fault, I say that they must be instructed, not merely wept over.
Life is divided into three periods—that which has been, that which is, that which will be. Of these the present time is short, the future is doubtful, the past is certain. For the last is the one over which Fortune has lost control, is the one which cannot be brought back under any man’s power. But men who are engrossed lose this; for they have no time to look back upon the past, and even if they should have, it is not pleasant to recall something they must view with regret. They are, therefore, unwilling to direct their thoughts backward to ill-spent hours, and those whose vices become obvious if they review the past, even the vices which were disguised under some allurement of momentary pleasure, do not have the courage to revert to those hours. No one willingly turns his thought back to the past, unless all his acts have been submitted to the censorship of his conscience, which is never deceived; he who has ambitiously coveted, proudly scorned, recklessly conquered, treacherously betrayed, greedily seized, or lavishly squandered, must needs fear his own memory. And yet this is the part of our time that is sacred and set apart, put beyond the reach of all human mishaps, and removed from the dominion of Fortune, the part which is disquieted by no want, by no fear, by no attacks of disease; this can neither be troubled nor be snatched away—it is an everlasting and unanxious possession. The present offers only one day at a time, and each by minutes; but all the days of past time will appear when you bid them, they will suffer you to behold them and keep them at your will—a thing which those who are engrossed have no time to do. The mind that is untroubled and tranquil has the power to roam into all the parts of its life; but the minds of the engrossed, just as if weighted by a yoke, cannot turn and look behind. And so their life vanishes into an abyss; and as it does no good, no matter how much water you pour into a vessel, if there is no bottom to receive and hold it, so with time—it makes no difference how much is given; if there is nothing for it to settle upon, it passes out through the chinks and holes of the mind. Present time is very brief, so brief, indeed, that to some there seems to be none; for it is always in motion, it ever flows and hurries on; it ceases to be before it has come, and can no more brook delay than the firmament or the stars, whose ever unresting movement never lets them abide in the same track. The engrossed, therefore, are concerned with present time alone, and it is so brief that it cannot be grasped, and even this is filched away from them, distracted as they are among many things.
In a word, do you want to know how they do not “live long”? See how eager they are to live long! Decrepit old men beg in their prayers for the addition of a few more years; they pretend that they are younger than they are; they comfort themselves with a falsehood, and are as pleased to deceive themselves as if they deceived Fate at the same time. But when at last some infirmity has reminded them of their mortality, in what terror do they die, feeling that they are being dragged out of life, and not merely leaving it. They cry out that they have been fools, because they have not really lived, and that they will live henceforth in leisure if only they escape from this illness; then at last they reflect how uselessly they have striven for things which they did not enjoy, and how all their toil has gone for nothing. But for those whose life is passed remote from all business, why should it not be ample? None of it is assigned to another, none of it is scattered in this direction and that, none of it is committed to Fortune, none of it perishes from neglect, none is subtracted by wasteful giving, none of it is unused; the whole of it, so to speak, yields income. And so, however small the amount of it, it is abundantly sufficient, and therefore, whenever his last day shall come, the wise man will not hesitate to go to meet death with steady step.
Perhaps you ask whom I would call “the preoccupied”? There is no reason for you to suppose that I mean only those whom the dogs that have at length been let in drive out from the law-court, those whom you see either gloriously crushed in their own crowd of followers, or scornfully in someone else’s, those whom social duties call forth from their own homes to bump them against someone else’s doors, or whom the praetor’s hammer keeps busy in seeking gain that is disreputable and that will one day fester. Even the leisure of some men is engrossed; in their villa or on their couch, in the midst of solitude, although they have withdrawn from all others, they are themselves the source of their own worry; we should say that these are living, not in leisure, but in idle preoccupation. Would you say that that man is at leisure who arranges with finical care his Corinthian bronzes, that the mania of a few makes costly, and spends the greater part of each day upon rusty bits of copper? Who sits in a public wrestling-place (for, to our shame I we labour with vices that are not even Roman) watching the wrangling of lads? Who sorts out the herds of his pack-mules into pairs of the same age and colour? Who feeds all the newest athletes? Tell me, would you say that those men are at leisure who pass many hours at the barber’s while they are being stripped of whatever grew out the night before? while a solemn debate is held over each separate hair? while either disarranged locks are restored to their place or thinning ones drawn from this side and that toward the forehead? How angry they get if the barber has been a bit too careless, just as if he were shearing a real man! How they flare up if any of their mane is lopped off, if any of it lies out of order, if it does not all fall into its proper ringlets! Who of these would not rather have the state disordered than his hair? Who is not more concerned to have his head trim rather than safe? Who would not rather be well barbered than upright? Would you say that these are at leisure who are occupied with the comb and the mirror? And what of those who are engaged in composing, hearing, and learning songs, while they twist the voice, whose best and simplest movement Nature designed to be straightforward, into the meanderings of some indolent tune, who are always snapping their fingers as they beat time to some song they have in their head, who are overheard humming a tune when they have been summoned to serious, often even melancholy, matters? These have not leisure, but idle occupation. And their banquets, Heaven knows! I cannot reckon among their unoccupied hours, since I see how anxiously they set out their silver plate, how diligently they tie up the tunics of their pretty slave-boys, how breathlessly they watch to see in what style the wild boar issues from the hands of the cook, with what speed at a given signal smooth-faced boys hurry to perform their duties, with what skill the birds are carved into portions all according to rule, how carefully unhappy little lads wipe up the spittle of drunkards. By such means they seek the reputation for elegance and good taste, and to such an extent do their evils follow them into all the privacies of life that they can neither eat nor drink without ostentation.
And I would not count these among the leisured class either—the men who have themselves borne hither and thither in a sedan-chair and a litter, and are punctual at the hours for their rides as if it were unlawful to omit them, who are reminded by someone else when they must bathe, when they must swim, when they must dine; so enfeebled are they by the excessive lassitude of a pampered mind that they cannot find out by themselves whether they are hungry! I hear that one of these pampered people—provided that you can call it pampering to unlearn the habits of human life—when he had been lifted by hands from the bath and placed in his sedan-chair, said questioningly: “Am I now seated?” Do you think that this man, who does not know whether he is sitting, knows whether he is alive, whether he sees, whether he is at leisure? I find it hard to say whether I pity him more if he really did not know, or if he pretended not to know this. They really are subject to forgetfulness of many things, but they also pretend forgetfulness of many. Some vices delight them as being proofs of their prosperity; it seems the part of a man who is very lowly and despicable to know what he is doing. After this imagine that the mimes fabricate many things to make a mock of luxury! In very truth, they pass over more than they invent, and such a multitude of unbelievable vices has come forth in this age, so clever in this one direction, that by now we can charge the mimes with neglect. To think that there is anyone who is so lost in luxury that he takes another’s word as to whether he is sitting down! This man, then, is not at leisure, you must apply to him a different term—he is sick, nay, he is dead; that man is at leisure, who has also a perception of his leisure. But this other who is half alive, who, in order that he may know the postures of his own body, needs someone to tell him—how can he be the master of any of his time?
It would be tedious to mention all the different men who have spent the whole of their life over chess or ball or the practice of baking their bodies in the sun. They are not unoccupied whose pleasures are made a busy occupation. For instance, no one will have any doubt that those are laborious triflers who spend their time on useless literary problems, of whom even among the Romans there is now a great number. It was once a foible confined to the Greeks to inquire into what number of rowers Ulysses had, whether the Iliad or the Odyssey was written first, whether moreover they belong to the same author, and various other matters of this stamp, which, if you keep them to yourself, in no way pleasure your secret soul, and, if you publish them, make you seem more of a bore than a scholar. But now this vain passion for learning useless things has assailed the Romans also. In the last few days I heard someone telling who was the first Roman general to do this or that; Duilius was the first who won a naval battle, Curius Dentatus was the first who had elephants led in his triumph. Still, these matters, even if they add nothing to real glory, are nevertheless concerned with signal services to the state; there will be no profit in such knowledge, nevertheless it wins our attention by reason of the attractiveness of an empty subject. We may excuse also those who inquire into this—who first induced the Romans to go on board ship. It was Claudius, and this was the very reason he was surnamed Caudex, because among the ancients a structure formed by joining together several boards was called a caudex, whence also the Tables of the Law are called codices, and, in the ancient fashion, boats that carry provisions up the Tiber are even to-day called codicariae. Doubtless this too may have some point—the fact that Valerius Corvinus was the first to conquer Messana, and was the first of the family of the Valerii to bear the surname Messana because be had transferred the name of the conquered city to himself, and was later called Messala after the gradual corruption of the name in the popular speech. Perhaps you will permit someone to be interested also in this—the fact that Lucius Sulla was the first to exhibit loosed lions in the Circus, though at other times they were exhibited in chains, and that javelin-throwers were sent by King Bocchus to despatch them? And, doubtless, this too may find some excuse—but does it serve any useful purpose to know that Pompey was the first to exhibit the slaughter of eighteen elephants in the Circus, pitting criminals against them in a mimic battle? He, a leader of the state and one who, according to report, was conspicuous among the leaders of old for the kindness of his heart, thought it a notable kind of spectacle to kill human beings after a new fashion. Do they fight to the death? That is not enough! Are they torn to pieces? That is not enough! Let them be crushed by animals of monstrous bulk! Better would it be that these things pass into oblivion lest hereafter some all-powerful man should learn them and be jealous of an act that was nowise human. O, what blindness does great prosperity cast upon our minds! When he was casting so many troops of wretched human beings to wild beasts born under a different sky, when he was proclaiming war between creatures so ill matched, when he was shedding so much blood before the eyes of the Roman people, who itself was soon to be forced to shed more. he then believed that he was beyond the power of Nature. But later this same man, betrayed by Alexandrine treachery, offered himself to the dagger of the vilest slave, and then at last discovered what an empty boast his surname was.
But to return to the point from which I have digressed, and to show that some people bestow useless pains upon these same matters—the man I mentioned related that Metellus, when he triumphed after his victory over the Carthaginians in Sicily, was the only one of all the Romans who had caused a hundred and twenty captured elephants to be led before his car; that Sulla was the last of the Roman’s who extended the pomerium, which in old times it was customary to extend after the acquisition of Italian but never of provincial, territory. Is it more profitable to know this than that Mount Aventine, according to him, is outside the pomerium for one of two reasons, either because that was the place to which the plebeians had seceded, or because the birds had not been favourable when Remus took his auspices on that spot—and, in turn, countless other reports that are either crammed with falsehood or are of the same sort? For though you grant that they tell these things in good faith, though they pledge themselves for the truth of what they write, still whose mistakes will be made fewer by such stories? Whose passions will they restrain? Whom will they make more brave, whom more just, whom more noble-minded? My friend Fabianus used to say that at times he was doubtful whether it was not better not to apply oneself to any studies than to become entangled in these.
Of all men they alone are at leisure who take time for philosophy, they alone really live; for they are not content to be good guardians of their own lifetime only. They annex ever age to their own; all the years that have gone ore them are an addition to their store. Unless we are most ungrateful, all those men, glorious fashioners of holy thoughts, were born for us; for us they have prepared a way of life. By other men’s labours we are led to the sight of things most beautiful that have been wrested from darkness and brought into light; from no age are we shut out, we have access to all ages, and if it is our wish, by greatness of mind, to pass beyond the narrow limits of human weakness, there is a great stretch of time through which we may roam. We may argue with Socrates, we may doubt with Carneades, find peace with Epicurus, overcome human nature with the Stoics, exceed it with the Cynics. Since Nature allows us to enter into fellowship with every age, why should we not turn from this paltry and fleeting span of time and surrender ourselves with all our soul to the past, which is boundless, which is eternal, which we share with our betters?
Those who rush about in the performance of social duties, who give themselves and others no rest, when they have fully indulged their madness, when they have every day crossed everybody’s threshold, and have left no open door unvisited, when they have carried around their venal greeting to houses that are very far apart—out of a city so huge and torn by such varied desires, how few will they be able to see? How many will there be who either from sleep or self-indulgence or rudeness will keep them out! How many who, when they have tortured them with long waiting, will rush by, pretending to be in a hurry! How many will avoid passing out through a hall that is crowded with clients, and will make their escape through some concealed door as if it were not more discourteous to deceive than to exclude. How many, still half asleep and sluggish from last night’s debauch, scarcely lifting their lips in the midst of a most insolent yawn, manage to bestow on yonder poor wretches, who break their own slumber in order to wait on that of another, the right name only after it has been whispered to them a thousand times!
But we may fairly say that they alone are engaged in the true duties of life who shall wish to have Zeno, Pythagoras, Democritus, and all the other high priests of liberal studies, and Aristotle and Theophrastus, as their most intimate friends every day. No one of these will be “not at home,” no one of these will fail to have his visitor leave more happy and more devoted to himself than when he came, no one of these will allow anyone to leave him with empty hands; all mortals can meet with them by night or by day.
No one of these will force you to die, but all will teach you how to die; no one of these will wear out your years, but each will add his own years to yours; conversations with no one of these will bring you peril, the friendship of none will endanger your life, the courting of none will tax your purse. From them you will take whatever you wish; it will be no fault of theirs if you do not draw the utmost that you can desire. What happiness, what a fair old age awaits him who has offered himself as a client to these! He will have friends from whom he may seek counsel on matters great and small, whom he may consult every day about himself, from whom he may hear truth without insult, praise without flattery, and after whose likeness he may fashion himself.
We are wont to say that it was not in our power to choose the parents who fell to our lot, that they have been given to men by chance; yet we may be the sons of whomsoever we will. Households there are of noblest intellects; choose the one into which you wish to be adopted; you will inherit not merely their name, but even their property, which there will be no need to guard in a mean or niggardly spirit; the more persons you share it with, the greater it will become. These will open to you the path to immortality, and will raise you to a height from which no one is cast down. This is the only way of prolonging mortality—nay, of turning it into immortality. Honours, monuments, all that ambition has commanded by decrees or reared in works of stone, quickly sink to ruin; there is nothing that the lapse of time does not tear down and remove. But the works which philosophy has consecrated cannot be harmed; no age will destroy them, no age reduce them; the following and each succeeding age will but increase the reverence for them, since envy works upon what is close at hand, and things that are far off we are more free to admire. The life of the philosopher, therefore, has wide range, and he is not confined by the same bounds that shut others in. He alone is freed from the limitations of the human race; all ages serve him as if a god. Has some time passed by? This he embraces by recollection. Is time present? This he uses. Is it still to come? This he anticipates. He makes his life long by combining all times into one.
But those who forget the past, neglect the present, and fear for the future have a life that is very brief and troubled; when they have reached the end of it, the poor wretches perceive too late that for such a long while they have been busied in doing nothing. Nor because they sometimes invoke death, have you any reason to think it any proof that they find life long. In their folly they are harassed by shifting emotions which rush them into the very things they dread; they often pray for death because they fear it. And, too, you have no reason to think that this is any proof that they are living a long time—the fact that the day often seems to them long, the fact that they complain that the hours pass slowly until the time set for dinner arrives; for, whenever their distractions fail them, they are restless because they are left with nothing to do, and they do not know how to dispose of their leisure or to drag out the time. And so they strive for something else to occupy them, and all the intervening time is irksome; exactly as they do when a gladiatorial exhibition is been announced, or when they are waiting for the appointed time of some other show or amusement, they want to skip over the days that lie between. All postponement of something they hope for seems long to them. Yet the time which they enjoy is short and swift, and it is made much shorter by their own fault; for they flee from one pleasure to another and cannot remain fixed in one desire. Their days are not long to them, but hateful; yet, on the other hand, how scanty seem the nights which they spend in the arms of a harlot or in wine! It is this also that accounts for the madness of poets in fostering human frailties by the tales in which they represent that Jupiter under the enticement of the pleasures of a lover doubled the length of the night. For what is it but to inflame our vices to inscribe the name of the gods as their sponsors, and to present the excused indulgence of divinity as an example to our own weakness? Can the nights which they pay for so dearly fail to seem all too short to these men? They lose the day in expectation of the night, and the night in fear of the dawn.
The very pleasures of such men are uneasy and disquieted by alarms of various sorts, and at the very moment of rejoicing the anxious thought comes over them: “How long will these things last?” This feeling has led kings to weep over the power they possessed, and they have not so much delighted in the greatness of their fortune, as they have viewed with terror the end to which it must some time come. When the King of Persia, in all the insolence of his pride, spread his army over the vast plains and could not grasp its number but simply its measure, he shed copious tears because inside of a hundred years not a man of such a mighty army would be alive. But he who wept was to bring upon them their fate, was to give some to their doom on the sea, some on the land, some in battle, some in flight, and within a short time was to destroy all those for whose hundredth year he had such fear. And why is it that even their joys are uneasy from fear? Because they do not rest on stable causes, but are perturbed as groundlessly as they are born. But of what sort do you think those times are which even by their own confession are wretched, since even the joys by which they are exalted and lifted above mankind are by no means pure? All the greatest blessings are a source of anxiety, and at no time should fortune be less trusted than when it is best; to maintain prosperity there is need of other prosperity, and in behalf of the prayers that have turned out well we must make still other prayers. For everything that comes to us from chance is unstable, and the higher it rises, the more liable it is to fall. Moreover, what is doomed to perish brings pleasure to no one; very wretched, therefore, and not merely short, must the life of those be who work hard to gain what they must work harder to keep. By great toil they attain what they wish, and with anxiety hold what they have attained; meanwhile they take no account of time that will never more return. New distractions take the place of the old, hope leads to new hope, ambition to new ambition. They do not seek an end of their wretchedness, but change the cause. Have we been tormented by our own public honours? Those of others take more of our time. Have we ceased to labour as candidates? We begin to canvass for others. Have we got rid of the troubles of a prosecutor? We find those of a judge. Has a man ceased to be a judge? He becomes president of a court. Has he become infirm in managing the property of others at a salary? He is perplexed by caring for his own wealth. Have the barracks set Marius free? The consulship keeps him busy. Does Quintius hasten to get to the end of his dictatorship? He will be called back to it from the plough. Scipio will go against the Carthaginians before he is ripe for so great an undertaking; victorious over Hannibal, victorious over Antiochus, the glory of his own consulship, the surety for his brother’s, did he not stand in his own way, he would be set beside Jove; but the discord of civilians will vex their preserver, and, when as a young man he had scorned honours that rivalled those of the gods, at length, when he is old, his ambition will lake delight in stubborn exile. Reasons for anxiety will never be lacking, whether born of prosperity or of wretchedness; life pushes on in a succession of engrossments. We shall always pray for leisure, but never enjoy it.
And so, my dearest Paulinus, tear yourself away from the crowd, and, too much storm-tossed for the time you have lived, at length withdraw into a peaceful harbour. Think of how many waves you have encountered, how many storms, on the one hand, you have sustained in private life, how many, on the other, you have brought upon yourself in public life; long enough has your virtue been displayed in laborious and unceasing proofs—try how it will behave in leisure. The greater part of your life, certainly the better part of it, has been given to the state; take now some part of your time for yourself as well. And I do not summon you to slothful or idle inaction, or to drown all your native energy in slumbers and the pleasures that are dear to the crowd. That is not to rest; you will find far greater works than all those you have hitherto performed so energetically, to occupy you in the midst of your release and retirement. You, I know, manage the accounts of the whole world as honestly as you would a stranger’s, as carefully as you would your own, as conscientiously as you would the state’s. You win love in an office in which it is difficult to avoid hatred; but nevertheless believe me, it is better to have knowledge of the ledger of one’s own life than of the corn-market. Recall that keen mind of yours, which is most competent to cope with the greatest subjects, from a service that is indeed honourable but hardly adapted to the happy life, and reflect that in all your training in the liberal studies, extending from your earliest years, you were not aiming at this—that it might be safe to entrust many thousand pecks of corn to your charge; you gave hope of something greater and more lofty. There will be no lack of men of tested worth and painstaking industry. But plodding oxen are much more suited to carrying heavy loads than thoroughbred horses, and who ever hampers the fleetness of such high-born creatures with a heavy pack? Reflect, besides, how much worry you have in subjecting yourself to such a great burden; your dealings are with the belly of man. A hungry people neither listens to reason, nor is appeased by justice, nor is bent by any entreaty. Very recently within those few day’s after Gaius Caesar died—still grieving most deeply (if the dead have any feeling) because he knew that the Roman people were alive and had enough food left for at any rate seven or eight days while he was building his bridges of boats and playing with the resources of the empire, we were threatened with the worst evil that can befall men even during a siege—the lack of provisions; his imitation of a mad and foreign and misproud king was very nearly at the cost of the city’s destruction and famine and the general revolution that follows famine. What then must have been the feeling of those who had charge of the corn-market, and had to face stones, the sword, fire—and a Caligula? By the greatest subterfuge they concealed the great evil that lurked in the vitals of the state—with good reason, you may be sure. For certain maladies must be treated while the patient is kept in ignorance; knowledge of their disease has caused the death of many.
Do you retire to these quieter, safer, greater things! Think you that it is just the same whether you are concerned in having corn from oversea poured into the granaries, unhurt either by the dishonesty or the neglect of those who transport it, in seeing that it does not become heated and spoiled by collecting moisture and tallies in weight and measure, or whether you enter upon these sacred and lofty studies with the purpose of discovering what substance, what pleasure, what mode of life, what shape God has; what fate awaits your soul; where Nature lays us to rest When we are freed from the body; what the principle is that upholds all the heaviest matter in the centre of this world, suspends the light on high, carries fire to the topmost part, summons the stars to their proper changes—and ether matters, in turn, full of mighty wonders? You really must leave the ground and turn your mind’s eye upon these things! Now while the blood is hot, we must enter with brisk step upon the better course. In this kind of life there awaits much that is good to know—the love and practice of the virtues, forgetfulness of the passions, knowledge of living and dying, and a life of deep repose.
The condition of all who are preoccupied is wretched, but most wretched is the condition of those who labour at preoccupations that are not even their own, who regulate their sleep by that of another, their walk by the pace of another, who are under orders in case of the freest things in the world—loving and hating. If these wish to know how short their life is, let them reflect how small a part of it is their own.
And so when you see a man often wearing the robe of office, when you see one whose name is famous in the Forum, do not envy him; those things are bought at the price of life. They will waste all their years, in order that they may have one year reckoned by their name. Life has left some in the midst of their first struggles, before they could climb up to the height of their ambition; some, when they have crawled up through a thousand indignities to the crowning dignity, have been possessed by the unhappy thought that they have but toiled for an inscription on a tomb; some who have come to extreme old age, while they adjusted it to new hopes as if it were youth, have had it fail from sheer weakness in the midst of their great and shameless endeavours. Shameful is he whose breath leaves him in the midst of a trial when, advanced in years and still courting the applause of an ignorant circle, he is pleading for some litigant who is the veriest stranger; disgraceful is he who, exhausted more quickly by his mode of living than by his labour, collapses in the very midst of his duties; disgraceful is he who dies in the act of receiving payments on account, and draws a smile from his long delayed heir. I cannot pass over an instance which occurs to me. Sextus Turannius was an old man of long tested diligence, who, after his ninetieth year, having received release from the duties of his office by Gaius Caesar’s own act, ordered himself to be laid out on his bed and to be mourned by the assembled household as if he were dead. The whole house bemoaned the leisure of its old master, and did not end its sorrow until his accustomed work was restored to him. Is it really such pleasure for a man to die in harness? Yet very many have the same feeling; their desire for their labour lasts longer than their ability; they fight against the weakness of the body, they judge old age to be a hardship on no other score than because it puts them aside. The law does not draft a soldier after his fiftieth year, it does not call a senator after his sixtieth; it is more difficult for men to obtain leisure from themselves than from the law. Meantime, while they rob and are being robbed, while they break up each other’s repose, while they make each other wretched, their life is without profit, without pleasure, without any improvement of the mind. No one keeps death in view, no one refrains from far-reaching hopes; some men, indeed, even arrange for things that lie beyond life—huge masses of tombs and dedications of public works and gifts for their funeral-pyres and ostentatious funerals.
But, in very truth, the funerals of such men ought to be conducted by the light of torches and wax tapers, as though they had lived but the tiniest span.
“It’s not that we have a short time to live, but that we waste a lot of it.”
-Lucius Annaeus Seneca
Related and Suggested Posts and Resources:
The Tao of Seneca: Practical Letters from a Stoic Master
Stoicism 101: A Practical Guide for Entrepreneurs
Seneca on Trial: The Case of the Opulent Stoic The Classic Journal, Vol. 61, No. 6 (1966)
Harnessing Entrepreneurial Manic-Depression: Making the Rollercoaster Work for You
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338 Replies to “On The Shortness of Life: An Introduction to Seneca”
Tim, thanks SO much for this post! I read the bolden quotes, plan on reading the rest soon. I have only recently become more aware of the time we all have here, and have worked hard to embrace more or life’s offerings. I appreciate what you do, it is motivation for us to take that step and dare to live a more fuller life and experience! I am typing this as I am visiting Egypt for the first time, and just returned from a day at the National Museum. I am so fortunate to have the opportunity to travel and see these things and take in everything that most people chose not to do.
Keep up the good work, best wishes!
USA Swimming National Team Coach
Nice! Egypt to cool. For most life is short for some its shorter. My friend Mike Starr(alice in chains) died today, age 44. Its heart breaking but we knew it was coming the road he was on. Lets all make the most of our time on earth and bless some folks on the way. Love this post Tim! I will dive more into this philosophy. 🙂
I will call my lokal bookstore for a copy of an Seneca Book.
The last sentence is a good mantra.
“It’s not that we have a short time to live, but that we waste a lot of it.”
I go doing something.
I enjoyed reading this post lifted me for the day
very interesting post, really makes you think! thanks tim
Interesting way to present a long text on the web. It’s the first time see that. I’ve just read the bolded parts, but will definitely read the whole text later. Thanks for sharing.
Thanks for sharing. I will also look into picking a some copies of his work. Those are tough situations which rightly spark hard questions about life. All the best to you, your friend and his family. A lot of good things are mentioned here, I’ll hold this story in mind as I go about my day.
Thank you for sharing this during a time of sadness for you.
“…you must drink quickly.”
Indeed. It is so easy – and I am guilty of this – to live for the goal rather than the moment. This is an excellent wake up call.
I should know better. As a trainer, I work with my clients to relish the process rather than the goal. The achievement of the objective is only a stepping stone on a longer journey. We move ever forward or backward, but never stay still. So we might as well keep moving forward and enjoy every moment of it. Life is short…
Thanks for the excellent thought provoking post. I have had similar experiences in my life of just how fragile life can be. Which is why Kim and I decided to add the tag line (for our muse) ‘Excuses are over. It’s time to live!’ to highlight that this moment is all we have….
@adam_steer: “…relish the process rather than the goal”. Amen, brother.
Aristotle is attributed to have said: “we are what we repeatedly do. excellence, then, is not an act, but rather a habit.”
Thank you for working so hard Tim!
For improving not only your life, but others too.
You are an inspiration :).
What an amazing letter. I will say thanks as well for posting and sharing this. I’ll point my friends and family here as well. I’ve read your book several times and purchased on audio. I really appreciate you sharing additional thoughts and resources that align with the message and goal you pose in the book.
I hope all goes as well as possible with your family friends while in hardship.
I remember a quote from the Dalai Lama that says…
“Life is so short that we must move very slowly”
I guess it’s a bit of a cliche but yes the destination really is the journey. When we look back it’s always the little disasters along the way that carry the fondest laughs and the most treasured memories. Like Tim Mcgraw sang “live like your dying”.
So now that we know that life is short and should be lived. What is ‘living’? How will I know that I’m living?
I think you’ll know when you’re living. Your mind will be free because it is absorbed in the present moment. Laughing, swimming in the ocean, eating well. You’re not depriving yourself of fun just to think of the future. But i think we all want to improve ourselves and think we don’t deserve fun until we’ve improved ourselves.
What happened to Disqus? 🙂
For anyone wanting to read the whole thing (in a leisurely manner) you might want to try ZapReader: http://www.zapreader.com/
Stoic is one of my new favorite words now since the “Stoicism 101: A Practical Guide for Entrepreneurs” post. I had never heard of Stoicism before then, but I’ve been pretty stoic my whole life.
I think the recent posts on Stoicism coming from you sparked an idea for a new book titled “The No Hour Workweek.” 🙂
No hours because that’s the goal. I try as hard as possible to be fully immersed in every minute of everyday. It’s only work if you think it’s work. There is no work (or I suppose it’s all work… and the job is living 😉 ). I think I have an analogy to explain it better.
I wanted to learn how to juggle. I spent 2-6 hours a day practicing (working) for a month or two straight. That was necessary to get me to the skill level I wanted to achieve. Similarly, I work (practice) at a night club one or two days a week. I get paid for my time there, but it’s necessary to eventually own my own night club (the skill level I want to achieve).
I think the “no hour workweek” is as much about a state of mind as it is about control over ones free time. I get a lot of joy out of simple things like shoveling snow or sweeping. I also enjoy doing things I don’t like to do… I think that mentality came from martial arts. To get good you have to do A LOT of stuff you don’t like doing.
A lot of the Stoic stuff seems like Daoism wrapped up in a Toga. 🙂
Taoism in a toga — I love it! It’s certainly close. A bit of Buddhism in a banana leaf, perhaps. Regarding Disqus, the system lost about 10 of my replies to readers comments, so I’ve deactivated it until all the glitches are worked out. I can’t afford to lose comments and replies. For me, the lifeblood of this blog is your comments and the interactive learning.
Have a great weekend,
It would be interesting a blog post defining what is leisure time nowadays or what do you consider leisure time (Friends, family, traveling, hobbies), what do you consider loosing time (Bureaucracy, annoying people-clients, being in the wrong company…).
Sorry for your loss and thank you for the text and reminders that life is all too short to be wasted especially in these uncertain and crazy times for many people.
That is a beautiful quote that sums things up.
I just recently finished reading 4 hour work week and I can honestly say my life is changed, for the better. Much respect for your philosophy. I’m encountering a lot of turbulence from employees and peers as I implement some of your suggestions. I found a lot of their hesitation and fear comes from a lack of understanding. I’ve tried to spread the good word and have recommended your book about 25x just last week, hopefully they wake up because I don’t plan on re-conforming in any way!
Welcome to the blog and the community! I’m sure you’ll be sharing your own findings and experiments soon. I’ve learned more from my readers here than they could ever learn from me.
Hope to hear more from you 🙂
Tim, you should have sent JT a handful of free books for her to give to her employees.
“I’m sure there’s something more to be read in a man. People dare not – they dare not turn the page. The laws of mimicry – I call them the laws of fear. People are afraid to find themselves alone, and don’t find themselves at all. I hate all this moral agoraphobia – it’s the worst kind of cowardice. You can’t create something without being alone. But who’s trying to create here? What seems different in yourself that’s the one rare thing you possess, the one thing which gives each of us his worth and that’s just what we try to suppress. We imitate. And we claim to love life.” (André Gide, The Immoralist)
Amidst the blather of my RSS reader (“5 Amazing Tips on How to be More Awesome Today!”), this post shone through like a jewel in a dust heap. Thank you for this unique perspective, Tim, and condolences on your loss.
I’ve read the bolded sections (a thoughtful touch), and will finish the rest later, since sadly, I am entrapped in the 50 Hour Work Week at the moment. This is especially bitter in light of such pearls as “There is nothing the busy man is less busied with than living”.
sorry to hear about your friends.
Seneca is really great, and it’s good to see that you bring his name to the people.. When I was twelve years old and realized that my parents someday were going to die, I found comfort in Confessions by Marcus Aurelius. There was especially one line that made me absolutely calm, and it has followed me ever since:
“Were you to live three thousand years, or even thirty thousand, remember that the sole life which a man can lose is that which he is living at the moment; and furthermore, that he can have no other life except the one he loses…”
Sorry, I meant Marcus Aurelius’ Meditations.. Forgot that just translating the Swedish title into English isn’t going to work all the time. Isabelle
This may be one of the best writings on “time management” or life management EVER. He doesn’t beat around the bush, there is no theory here – just make the effort, even when it’s hard, to LIVE everyday because it will be gone soon enough.
Thank you for talking about this stuff Tim!!
Thanks, Tim. Loved it.
I only read the bold parts but they moved me. Alot of people don’t realize that goals without life is like life without goals. They only see what they have accomplished rather than what legacy they have left behind in others.
Thanks for the post! I’ll definitely read the whole thing later!
well said. Everyone dies, but not everyone ‘lives’. Quality of life is much more important than quantity of life.
Amazing. To put in music you should listen to Pucinni’s E lucevan le stelle http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DOCZKWeX9ag&feature=related
Good post. Hits hard.
Wise words. Suddenly my priorities have changed.
Thanks for taking the time to post this and look forward to reading in depth. Sorry to hear of the news of your friends.
Tim, I appreciate that you post only articles that are worthwhile and well thought out. Thanks.
Another blog that you’ve offered great value. For many years, I worked 80-100 weeks just chasing the dollar. I woke up every day, just plain miserable.
Tim, you’ve worked out a way to make money and still enjoy your life at the same time. In fact, you’ve stated countless times that your quality of life is a lot more important than how much money you make.
Sometimes, I think you need to have a near death experience to put all of this in perspective (I have). You could have all the money in the world, but if you dropped dead tomorrow having slaved your life away just to make money; what kind of life would that have been?
I enjoyed reading this, although I have to admit that being english not my native language it was a little bit hard to understand all of it.
This is true — in fact, this older English is hard for native speakers to read! The translation in “Letters from a Stoic” is much, much easier, though it leaves out a few parts I particularly like. The Costa translation is much closer to current conversational English.
All the best and thanks for taking the time to read it!
After you mentioned it a few times, I asked for Letters from a Stoic as a birthday gift, which I got a couple days ago. Really enjoying it, thanks for the recommendation.
Thank you so much for this post, many of these points I interrupt into my own way of life and have made me think about the way I sue my time.
Cant wait to see more videos and posts from you!
Eight years ago I lost my sister, who was also my best friend. Receiving that phone call changed my whole perspective on life and Seneca’s letter reminds me of that. She and I took a few mini-vacations together during our lives, and those are some of my best memories. So much in our lives is just petty stuff and I now try to build memories with those I love instead of accumulate stuff and seek honor and prestige. I also learned to say no to people who don’t respect my time or care about me. One of my better new traditions is watching the sunrise every day with my baby after she has her morning bottle. It doesn’t cost a dime.
I am impressed by the idea that too often we are focused on our destination, and pay no attention to our journey. I want to enjoy each moment of the journey, and perhaps it will be a richer experience than the destination.
Beautiful. Thanks Tim, the timing couldn’t be better as usual.
“One must have chaos within oneself, to give birth to a dancing star.”
I am going to copy this and send to all my friends and colleagues.
As someone who decided to quit an excellent job, move to a foreign country AND start my own business (after reading your book), I am on a quest to make more people aware that this IS life! You don’t get a second chance, there is no “someday” waiting around the corner.
Great stuff and keep up the good work (and since you’ve been an inspiration to me, I’ll be sure to send you a copy of MY book when finished!)
That Business Trainer
Tim — this comment is not about this post, its about an earlier post on weightlifting. http://www.fourhourworkweek.com/blog/2008/12/18/pavel-8020-powerlifting-and-how-to-add-110-pounds-to-your-lifts/
I’m posting this so that you’ll see this — I want you to know that after four months of this program, I increased my benchpress from 355 to 405 lbs! I’d been wanting to bench 405 lbs, and I want to thank you for helping me get there. I wouldn’t be here today without your help.
Congratulations! That is a HUGE gain and you should be very proud of such incredible progress. It’s a testament to your diligence and attention to detail.
Have a wonderful weekend, to you and all,
By standards above regarding how to live real life, we Americans are quite primitive. Fortunately a strong cultural shift has been in process for quite awhile now.
At the same time, this wisdom above and our own cultural shift is still short-sighted and uninformed. The story of Solomon comes to mind (Eccesiastes). Just what exactly are we slowing down for? Paying attention to? What do we hope to accomplish by it? If we are after merely our own enjoyment, eventually we will find that that is all “vanity” too.
When we consider the admonition above, we shift the horizon of our vision — but it doesn’t go far enough. What we think about life beyond death informs how we decide we want to invest our time now, and gives meaning to our experience of time now.
I’m sorry to hear about the loss of your friend.
From experience, I know “Money does not buy happiness.” It buys the illusion of happiness, if you are not genuinely happy and satisfied with your life.
On the flip side, I have also experienced that when you don’t have enough money to meet your ‘perceived* basic needs’, the discomfort or pain of not meeting your basic needs can become a focal point of your life. Whether it is the pain of hunger or the uneasiness of not being able to pay a ‘perceived essential bill’.
This post helps to put things in perspective for me:
Hold steadfast your priorities as if this moment, this hour, today was your last. For one day it will be.
Thank you for this post Tim!
Sarah, you raise good questions. I think that slowing down in the rush to the destination will aford us an opportunity to focus on the more eternal nature of life. What does it profit a man to gain the whole world and yet to lose his own soul?
Great post Tim. Another quote I really like and try to follow as good as I can:
“Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn’t do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover“
Perfect timing! I have a flight today, so I printed this post to enjoy the full article at 30k feet 🙂
The ancients intrigue me and I’ll have to mark and read this post over the weekend.
You might check out John Calvin (yes, *the* John Calvin)–his first published work was a commentary on Seneca. Nothing like reading and working with the best. Thanks much for posting this.
Halfway through the read and very impressed
As always, the right post at the exact moment in time when I needed an answer. Funny how the universe works that way.
Again, you’ve given me much needed clarity to really focus on what’s important and what I really want to do, not what I am pressured into doing.
Thank you! I predict that in the future, you will be the one they quote as the social philosopher of our time.
Thank you Tim for:
All that you give…
“No person was ever honored for what he received. Honor has been the reward for what he gave.”
Reminding us to care for our bodies:
Those who think they do not have time to invest in physical health and exercise will sooner or
later find that illness will steal their time without reguard for how they wish to spend their
Inspiring us to think better
It is only the selfish inner dialogs that makes both the suffering and the suffering so
Reminding us to set better and higher goals
“If you do not have well defined goals, you will be destined to spend you time helping others
achieve their goals.” Author unknown
Wanting us to be happier:
“If only we’d stop trying to be happy we could have a pretty good time.” Edith Wharton
Reminding us how precious our time and life are:
“As if you could kill time without injuring eternity!” Henry David Thoreau
Being such a worldish (unselfish) gift for our human family:
“The difference between ordinary people and legendary people is that the first spend time
building a life that is a shrine unto themselves, while the later spend time building an empire
to serve humanity.”
As I like to say… Carpe Vitae!
Amen. F–! cancer, which took my Dad last July. Following you and @lancearmstrong is daily inspiration to wake up and live with acute purpose and razor-sharp focus.
What have I done lately to fight that war? Doesn’t matter.
What am I doing NOW?
Interesting thoughts, but for me it still leaves much to be desired. I prefer :
2 Corinthians 4:18
So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.
1 John 2:17
The world and its desires pass away, but the man who does the will of God lives forever.
Have you considered these words:
1 My son, do not forget my teaching,
but keep my commands in your heart,
2 for they will prolong your life many years
and bring you prosperity.
3 Let love and faithfulness never leave you;
bind them around your neck,
write them on the tablet of your heart.
4 Then you will win favor and a good name
in the sight of God and man.
5 Trust in the LORD with all your heart
and lean not on your own understanding;
6 in all your ways acknowledge him,
and he will make your paths straight.
7 Do not be wise in your own eyes;
fear the LORD and shun evil.
8 This will bring health to your body
and nourishment to your bones.
9 Honor the LORD with your wealth,
with the firstfruits of all your crops;
10 then your barns will be filled to overflowing,
and your vats will brim over with new wine.
Have you considered what Jesus said about living for the after life instead of this life?
Treasures in Heaven
19″Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. 20But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where moth and rust do not destroy, and where thieves do not break in and steal. 21For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.
22″The eye is the lamp of the body. If your eyes are good, your whole body will be full of light. 23But if your eyes are bad, your whole body will be full of darkness. If then the light within you is darkness, how great is that darkness!
24″No one can serve two masters. Either he will hate the one and love the other, or he will be devoted to the one and despise the other. You cannot serve both God and Money.
Ever since I was a kid in high school I’ve had the intention to read Seneca’s work (after I read a few of his sayings I was sold on him; right, even a kid can see Seneca’s genius). We’re fifteen years later now and I still haven’t carried out that intention. Well, that’s about to change tonight, thanks to your post, Tim!
Thanks. A timely reminder as I found myself caught up with NIPA (non-inspiration producing activity) as compared to IPA (inspiration producing activity). (Note -While working I think of “income producing” vs. “non-income producing”) More IPA less or no NIPA! Carpe momentus..
Well, Tim, you’re on a good path. A lot of the Western Christian writers were fans of Seneca – Aquinas, and not least. Calvin!
Very sorry for your loss, Tim.
I must admit, I have never read Seneca. However, I find it difficult to take advice on how to live my life by someone who committed suicide.
I could be mistaken, but i believe he was ordered to commit suicide. I don’t think his philosophical teachings should be associated with a self-inflicted end if that’s the case.
The highlighted sections are great, but I was a bit concerned with some of the extremes in this writing.
“for to those whom they love most devotedly they have a habit of saying that they are ready to give them a part of their own year. Andy they do give it, without realizing it’ but the result of their giving is that they themselves suffer loss without adding to the years of their dear ones.”
Wow…that’s a tad extreme. I do not want to take sections of this out of context, but may I propose that portions of these ideas may lead someone to become a bit of a dick. I’m all about responsibility, independence, and free-thinking, but interdependence is a fact of all life…including us. Trust me, I don’t want anyone to take up my time, but just remember, we all rely on eachother…this is nature…we are at the service of one another whether we would like to be or not…enjoy your interdependence and much as your independence!
“The part of life we really live is small.” For all the rest of existence is not life, but merely time.–That is a very striking phrase that I will re-read daily for the next week. Thanks for passing this on.
Fantastic post Tim! I graduate from Purdue in a few weeks so I’ve been searching for meaning and life purpose. I, like many of my peers, are idealistic and want to change the world. Yet, many of us will fail and fall into jobs that drain the life from us. I’m seeing it happen to my friends already.
So, I’ve chosen to avoid additional schooling and a “career” to backpack Europe this summer, and then Southeast Asia in the fall. I don’t intend on getting a “real job” and working my life away just “to pay the mortgage.” I don’t want to waste my life away traveling and playing either. I feel like I’m destined to do something, I just don’t know what.
After reading this post, many things came to mind and spurred deep reflection.
“Life is long enough, and it has been given in sufficiently generous measure to allow the accomplishment of the very greatest things if the whole of it is well invested.” I couldn’t agree more. I’m only 21 and believe that I’ve lived as rich a life as anyone could hope for. If my life ended tomorrow, I could proudly say that it was a life well lived.
Having said that, how do I avoid living the rest of life in preoccupation? Can one truly live in leisure and make a difference in this world?
I just found this post and am reading through all of the comments. At the moment I’m relating all too much with your comment. I’ve graduated from UCR in US history and am quitting my job to travel to Argentina. I’ll be teaching English as a way of getting me out there and supporting myself. I have no background in business or am pretty clueless as to how I will create income upon automation a la TF, so teaching will have to do… for now. I plan to do some backpacking in my time off.
Did you find that something you were destined to do?
“Having said that, how do I avoid living the rest of life in preoccupation? Can one truly live in leisure and make a difference in this world?”
What outlooks did you come to in reflecting on these questions you posed?
I’ve often thought about how caught up we all get in the day to day concerns… forgetting this: Pick a date long ago (how about April 24, 1844) and there was somebody on that day that was upset, worried, or bothered by something. How much does it matter to him now?
I like reading philosophy fiction because it asks you questions and shows you perspectives you’ve never considered.
I’m confused by all this. You wrote another post recently saying something about all philosophy being a load of bs. And then this?
As far as I could skim through, all statements are subjective and like the vague music lyrics that a teenager with a broken heart finds meaning in, even perhaps seeming personal to him/her, it plays on your vulnerability to what’s known as ‘subjective validation,’ your tenancy to hear what you want to probably in order to gain a shot of confidence. In my opinion this confidence is not sustainable, because you will later see the contradictions in it, and in a bad mood be able to go from saying ‘life is short’ to ‘life is long’ – go on: take any one of the sentences, make the subjective parts say the exact opposite and notice how lovely it still sounds:
“The part of life we really live is small.” For all the rest of existence is not life, but merely time.
“The part of life we really live is large.” For all the rest of existence is also life, not merely time.
-how empathetic, how sweet
Great post Tim. I didn’t know about Lucius Seneca’s work before, but I’m glad you introduced him to me.
I’m a cancer survivor myself, and I have to say I think it’s more difficult for the loved ones than the patient. Even though I went into remission only a few months ago, I still find myself losing perspective. Thanks for a great source of inspiration. Also I second following Lance Armstrong (@lancearmstrong) on twitter.
Thanks for the post!
Today when I was writing a letter to a friend of mine who is in Thailand now, I more or less discussed the same topic.
Since my father died just last month at age 71, also of cancer, the “shortness of life” has been on my mind constantly and I wanted to reflect my thoughts on the subject and recent events to that friend.
Remarkably enough, just hours after, this post popped up in my inbox.
I just now read the highlights and am hungry for more. Has some nice insights that line up well with my thoughts at the moment..
Life is always short, no matter how old you get, so indeed we shouldn’t waste the better part of it. Here’s a question for that matter:
“Do you have a purpose in life? Or does life have a purpose with you?
In either case what would that purpose be?”
I always tend to find Baz Luhrmann’s “Sunscreen Song” very sobering whenever this topic brings me down, it contains some nice pieces of advice.
Keep up the good work!
Great read and sorry for the news of your friends
Long time fan of yours, and loved this post.
This video (2 mins long) called “Music and Life by Alan Watts” sums up Seneca’s message with a beautifully appropriate metaphor about the education system – and the accepted life-plan in general – being always goal-orientated, unlike a good piece of music (Where the ending is not the most important aspect).
Really nicely simply animated as well to illustrate the point – the same point you make in all your writing, actually.
(From the clip):
“Then when you wake up one day, about 40 years old, you say ‘My God, I’ve arrived, I’m there! And you don’t feel very different from what you always felt. And there’s a slight letdown because you feel there’s a hoax.”
— I recommend you watch it and definitely shout it out on Twitter for all your followers to watch!
All the best.
My mother just died due to complications from cancer; she was 47. I always thought having a foundation named after my mother would be nice, but I sure as hell wanted her to be living. My condolences go out to you.
I’ve had my nose deep in my dog-eared copy of “Meditations” which I actually find a bit more pointed on the topic of death, especially books 4, 11, and 12.
Being reminded of the lessons my mother taught me and how to apply these lessons RIGHT NOW (as the stoics would implore) has been actually fatiguing…it’s quite difficult to live in the moment but much more rewarding.
while reading this, I played Nine Inch Nails’ “Just like you imagine” (300 soundtrack) on the background…
the heck with waiting.. my time is now. damn. thanks for the post. sorry for the loss.
PS. what’s with the IV flickr photos? are you sick Tim?
Thank you for this post. it came at the right time for me.
Thank you for this. It was a fascinating read, and I saw in it elements of the philosophies many (many!) modern-day bloggers, writers, self-help gurus, and so forth. I initially moved on to read other posts in my RSS reader, but two items later, I saw an echo of Seneca in a post on Leo Babauta’s Zen Habits blog. This really is a great work, and one that I am sure to refer to again and again.
So the only thing he approves of is spending your time in philosophical thought, “in the company” of other great philosophers? People waste their time, but how is one not more wasted than other, other than by one’s own recollection of the past and any regrets he might have of it? Studying philosophy and “preparing for death” is not any more meaningful than any other pursuit. Sure, the overall message of not wasting your life is a good one, but his stance on what are the right things to spend your life on is nothing but an egotistical opinion about the correctness of his own pursuits. You gain nothing in life either way, in the end you will die, perhaps you will be remembered by your legacy, for a brief time. Live in the moment, do what makes you happy, don’t postpone life, these could’ve been said much more succintcly. Perhaps the main thing to take home from this is to avoid pursuits that end up being obligations and burden what you really want to do.
RE: My post above,
Just realised I forgot to write the link >_<
Alan Watts – Music and Life
Espero que te haya ido todo bien con tu vuelo.
Fue un placer haberte conocido en persona! Como ya te dije me encanto tu libro y es una gran inpiracion. Gracias por haber venido a hablar a USC.
Sabes hablar en publico re-bien y tenes un monton de historias re-copadas y las contas de una forma que atrapas la atencion de todos — y no te estoy mintiendo al respecto aunque me hayas dicho que te gusta que lo haga 😉
Me sorprendiste tanto con tu acento en castellano que se me olvido decirte que en tu proximo libro podrias mencionar la pagina de web http://www.couchsurfing.com que es una pagina re-copada para conseguir: 1) informacion sobre diferentes paises, 2) un guia de turista o host 3) y hasta para conseguir un sofa donde pasar una noche si estas corto de dinero durante un viaje. Yo la use cuando vivi en Australia asi que siempre la recomiendo.
Espero poder atender alguno de tus otros eventos en el futuro o cruzarte en LA -la proxima vez que estes- o por algun otro lado asi me podes firmar la copia de mi libro que me olvide hoy. Muchas gracias por firmarme el programa 🙂
Todo lo mejor con tus cosas che! Y perdona la falta de acentos pero aun no se como hacerlos con esta MAC. Otro abrazo gordo para vos. Cuidate.
Sorry about your loss Tim.
And thanks for posting Seneca’s letter. A bit hard for me to read too, even though I printed it out, but the bolded points helped a lot.
It’s incredible how relevant many of his examples and thoughts are to us today, I guess society hasn’t changed so much through all this time.
I particularly like this bit:
“Are you not ashamed to reserve for yourself only the remnant of life, and to set apart for wisdom only that time which cannot be devoted to any business? How late it is to begin to live just when we must cease to live!”
Thanks for this, Tim. You can’t know how appropriate it was that this post came at this time.
I studied Dan Zan Ryu jujitsu, a Japanese martial art based in part on Zen principles and samurai values. One of the key teachings was to not fear death and to actually view yourself as already dead — that way you can live each moment fully and be truly grateful to be alive.
A great read.
Reminds me of the famous quote
“If I had more time, I would have written a shorter letter.”
Great post Tim. I am not very familiar with Seneca but I really enjoyed this post. I always enjoy your blog, thanks for sharing.
“The pain that accompanies love, invention, and responsibility also gives delight.” Kahlil Gibran
Great letter from a great lawyer. Thanks for posting it, I’ll be sharing your post with my own readers on Monday.
In the same vein, I recommend Alain de Botton’s “The Consolations of Philosophy,” which does a great job of putting philosophy — particularly Stoicism — into an accessible form.
De Botton’s “How Proust Can Change Your Life,” is also fun, and almost makes you want to actually read Proust.
Since I read 4 Hour Work Week a couple of months ago (which is now one of my favourite books ever, not least because I’ve thought that way for several years but everytime I talk to people around me, they tell me I’m stupid), I’ve been trying to get folks around me to think the same way.
Why is it so darn hard!???
I was trained in the classics in Italy – you get kudos for sharing Seneca’s wisdom. Grazie. I look forward to meeting you at Mediabistro Circus June 2 in NYC. I will be speaking about Marketing Renaissance, the Age of the Customer.
This is awesome Tim,
This message is a gift from those who pass away before their time, as maybe Seneca did, that those who loved them learn…after losing my 17 year old brother in a motorcycle accident, myself and my remaining brothers have embraced life, indulged our passions, had successful relationships and generally kept the ‘big picture’ in mind while living life. It’s fantastic if you can learn the absolute value of this lesson without having to go through the total pain and devastation of loss. Lynda.
Thank you for this great article. My Mum, Joan passed away in August 2008. We all miss her a lot. I made a blog in Memory of my Mum. I know that Mum, is the Angel in our family. All the best
This is in congruence with my ‘zennishness’ I am practicing these days,thanks Tim.Reminds me of the famous Honest Abe quote ‘not the amount of years,but life in those years that counts’ (to paraphrase)
Actually stoicism would probably be closer to confucianism in a toga, if you wanted to relate it to an eastern philosophy. The original philosophy of stoicism is actually quite conservative, which is more like confucianism than daoism.
Sorry to split hairs, but I felt it was an important distinction to make…
Long-time listener, first-time caller. Thanks for your blog and this community, where I frequently learn just as much from the replies as I do from your posts.
But (like politrix) I’m a little baffled by this one. Yes, there are some inspirational “seize the day” soundbites on the (very worthy) subject of valuing time rather than squandering it, but do you agree with Seneca’s conclusion that the only way not to squander time is to spend it studying philosophy in “a life of deep repose”?
I echo Why’s comment,’it came at the right time for me’.
Shame he ended up with Nero as a boss. Irony or what!!
Very timely, Tim, with several near-death experiences in our lives recently.
The other essay I very much enjoy is Self-Reliance by Emerson – http://www.emersoncentral.com/selfreliance.htm
Here’s to philosophy and living for today.
Very timely post to remind us that life is about each and every moment. It’s the series of moments that define our lives.
I’ve been guilty too of waiting for the next “achievement” to be happy, i.e. get that degree, job, position etc…
Things have been rough at home with the spouse and this has made me realise that I’m wasting too much time wrangling over things I cannot control. I’m trying to practice some of the stocism that comes from reflecting why I react so much to petty slights and not be mature about it and just walk away from being a victim of verbal abuse.
The part of the text that resonated most with me wasn’t even bolded:
“The greatest hindrance to living is expectancy, which depends upon the morrow and wastes to-day. ”
For some reason, it connected very powerfully with this quote by Ida Scott Taylor:
“One day at a time – this is enough. Do not look back and grieve over the past, for it is gone: and do not be troubled about the future, for it has not yet come. Live in the present, and make it so beautiful that it will be worth remembering.”
What an eye opening and thought provoking right up here. I’ve read all of the bolding parts and will be reading this in great detail over the next week.
Excellent posts as always, Tim.
Amazing. I have to reread it. So much to digest.
The article is really great and helpful. I am going to share it to my family and friends.
Tim, thanks for helping with the bolds for easy reading. Comment stops here. Gonna seize the day before it flees.
Hi Tim, I just wanted to say tank you for this post and the previous one about stoicism. These are things that I’ve been thinking for w hile, and it’s good to read about it. It definetely helps during tough times also.
Sorry to hear of your loss. When a friend’s life proves to be so short comparatively, one rightly re-evaluates how one conducts one’s life. Thank you for sharing this and for being vulnerable here.
Seneca is great, and I thank you for sharing what you have. My favourite Stoic is Marcus Aurelius. That being said, I am yet to find any of them as succinct and as easy to grasp about matters of life and death as Qoheleth in Ecclesiastes. A single-sit read through of the twelve chapters gels my priorities solidly.
On matters of ethics and the conduct of one’s affairs, I find my greatest comfort and wisdom, even inspiration, in the letter of James. Some favourite points:
“What causes fights and quarrels among you? Don’t they come from your desires that battle within you? You want something but don’t get it. You kill and covet, but you cannot have what you want. You quarrel and fight. You do not have, because you do not ask God. When you ask, you do not receive, because you ask with wrong motives, that you may spend what you get on your pleasures.
Now listen, you who say, “Today or tomorrow we will go to this or that city, spend a year there, carry on business and make money.” Why, you do not even know what will happen tomorrow. What is your life? You are a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes. Instead, you ought to say, “If it is the Lord’s will, we will live and do this or that.” As it is, you boast and brag. All such boasting is evil. Anyone, then, who knows the good he ought to do and doesn’t do it, sins.”
Thanks, again, for sharing as you have here.
As an update on the weight loss, I dropped another belthole on Friday. That makes three holes lost since 10 March. After the next one, I will need to look for a new belt. I have already had to start shopping for smaller clothes. The old ones look simply comic on me anymore. Your sharing your diet has helped me to manage my own weight control and take responsibility for it. So, again, thanks for being so open on this blog, Tim. It has helped me and others to benefit from your life experiences in profoundly good ways. If you find yourself in Scotland anytime soon, please do let me know so we can meet up.