Give yourself limits. Seneca, Epistles 2.15.9-11

Seneca ends his discussion of health with an admonition to avoid living for future outcomes. We should gratefully enjoy, and share, goods that we have rather than forge splendid plans for future goods that may prove illusory.


Detraxi tibi non pusillum negotii: una mercedula et unum Graecum ad haec beneficia accedet. Ecce insigne praeceptum: stulta vita ingrata est, trepida; tota in futurum fertur. Quis hoc inquis dicit? idem qui supra. Quam tu nunc vitam dici existimas stultam? Babae et Isionis? Non ita est: nostra dicitur, quos caeca cupiditas in nocitura, certe numquam satiatura praecipitat, quibus si quid satis esse posset, fuisset, qui non cogitamus quam iucundum sit nihil poscere, quam magnificum sit plenum esse nec ex fortuna pendere. Subinde itaque, Lucili, quam multa sis consecutus recordare; cum aspexeris quot te antecedant, cogita quot sequantur. Si vis gratus esse adversus deos et adversus vitam tuam, cogita quam multos antecesseris. Quid tibi cum ceteris? te ipse antecessisti. Finem constitue, quem transire ne possis quidem si velis; discedant aliquando ista insidiosa bona et sperantibus meliora quam assecutis. Si quid in illis esset solidi, aliquando et implerent: nunc haurientium sitim concitant. Mittantur () speciosi apparatus; et quod futuri temporis incerta sors volvit, quare potius a fortuna impetrem ut det, quam a me ne petam? Quare autem petam? oblitus fragilitatis humanae congeram? in quid laborem? Ecce hic dies ultimus est; ut non sit, prope ab ultimo est. Vale.


I have already claimed no insignificant part of your day. I shall pay for it now, topping your wage with a little Greek aphorism. Behold this remarkable precept: "The fool's life is ungrateful, and fearful: everything in it looks toward the future." "Who says this?" you ask. The same source as before. Whose life do you suppose is being called foolish? Baba's? Isio's? () No! The fool's life is ours. We are the idiots driven to harm by blind desire, plunging headlong after lusts that cannot be satisfied. For if our lust could be quenched, that would have already happened, and we would not fail to notice how pleasant it is to demand nothing, how wonderful to have enough already, and expect no outcome from fortune. Remind yourself always, Lucilius, that you are just one in a long series of events. When you look back on all the things that precede you, consider how many shall follow after. If you wish to be grateful before the gods, and the prospect of your own life, think how many people shall come after you. What does your identity matter in such a crowd? Even now, you are not now what you once were. Give yourself limits, then, beyond which you would not go, even if you could. Shun the treacherous goods that lure others, who hope for better than what they have. If there were any real hope in these goods, we would see it every now and then, but all they actually do is stir up thirst in the desperate. Put aside your splendid preparations. And as for the future outcomes that uncertainty holds in her shaky hands: why would I demand from fortune what I do not ask of myself? Why should I ask it at all? Do I really want to blow my wad right now, forgetful of human weakness? To what purpose? See here: this day is our last. Even if it isn't, the end is always near. Farewell.


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() The MSS have imitantur here; I have accepted Madvig's emendation, though part of me would really like to discover the authenticity of imitantur speciosi apparatus.

() I am not sure who Baba and Isio are, but their names put me in mind of two old slaves.