I find it surprising that so many people equate living simply with living in poverty. They regard deprivation and discomfort as the prerequisites of simplicity. They abhor high ambitions in particular, because they require complex planning.
Seneca contributed to the confusion because his 89th Letter to Lucilius advises readers to prepare for death, meditate daily on their mortality, and stop worrying about the trivialities that fill their days.
It’s easy to preach simplicity to people who spend their days meditating about death, but the rest of us need to solve all kinds of problems, plan for the future, and pursue our dreams.
In other writings, Seneca added to the confusion by condemning the pursuit of wealth, which he regarded as “a slave to the wise, but a master to the fool.” In his eyes, a simple lifestyle motivates us to grow in wisdom, while luxury and comfort have the opposite effect.
I must however regard with suspicion the fact that Seneca judged luxury and comfort incompatible with simplicity. His dire admonitions against wealth set the prelude to medieval asceticism.
Seneca compared to Francis of Assisi
Even if Seneca’s call for simplicity was well meant, I would be reluctant to endorse, for instance, the extreme asceticism of Francis of Assisi (1181-1226). Francis had drawn inspiration from the Gospels to adopt a lifestyle that corresponds one hundred per cent to Seneca’s recommendations.
Nevertheless, I am reluctant to categorise such a lifestyle as simple just because it entails poverty. To grow and harvest wheat seems to me a simpler way to secure food than living in the forest and picking fruits and berries.
Similarly, to acquire valuable skills and pursue a productive career seems to me a simpler path to happiness than meditating six hours a day, sleeping on the ground, and eating very little.
Seneca only created confusion by distorting the meaning of wealth. In his 89th Letter to Lucilius, he goes so far as to define wealth as having few desires, instead of having lots of money.
He then calls readers to reject luxuries, live in accordance with nature, and exercise self-control. Those ideas from Seneca found a devoted practitioner in Francis of Assisi, who condemned the mere desire for wealth as sinful.
Francis exemplified a lifestyle of chronic undernourishment coupled with a lack of practical skills and absence of planning. In Seneca’s writings, those elements are formulated as a theoretical, intellectual prescription that lacks connection to reality.
Simplicity, however, is incompatible with ineffectiveness. It is dysfunctional, not simple, to spend our days meditating instead of doing productive work.
Neither Seneca nor Francis grasped that most people cannot afford a contemplative life. The ensuing problems would grow larger over time, like weeds in untended gardens.
Seneca’s call for detachment from problems is beautiful, but will not pay our mortgage and electricity bills. The stories of Francis travelling across Italy without luggage or money are engaging, but we should think twice before emulating them.
I regard all the above as misinterpretations of Seneca’s idea of a simple lifestyle. Let us not forget that Seneca lived twenty-one centuries ago. His prescriptions should not be adopted literally. They need interpretation.
Seneca compared to Lao-Tzu and Taoism
What is the feasible interpretation of Seneca’s advice to lead a simple life? We need to look back in history to find the right interpretation. Lao-Tzu, anticipating Seneca by six centuries, had already come up with a feasible approach to simplicity.
While Seneca was rebelling against wealth and comfort, the doctrines of Lao-Tzu (Taoism) are more measured in this area. They advise us to seek simplicity by living in harmony, by going with the flow of life, not through deprivation.
Seneca and Francis of Assisi called for a crusade against all forms of luxury, but Lao-Tzu would not engage in any crusade. If luxury and comfort are available, why not enjoy them? And if they become unaffordable, let us lead the best life we can. Lao-Tzu did not see any glory in seeking poverty as such.
For different reasons in each case, the concentration on the present became an obsession for Seneca and Francis of Assisi. Seneca because he wanted to meditate on death, and Francis because he wanted to meditate on heaven.
Lao-Tzu also emphasises living in the present, but has nothing against preparing for the future. Working is fine, and so is learning and planning. Lao-Tzu told us not to worry, but did not tell us to stand still and do nothing all day.
Seneca’s admonitions against time-wasting activities remain as incomprehensible today as in his own lifetime. Why did he regard meditation as useful, but the pursuit of ambitious goals as wasteful? Why did he glorify inner virtue at the expense of determined action? How do those contribute to simplicity?
Lao-Tzu did not condemn productive work, but warned us against overexertion, rigidity, and obsession. A simple lifestyle goes hand in hand with flexibility, prudence, and harmony.
In his definition of a simple, happy life, Lao-Tzu does not require wealth, neither does he exclude it. He provides us a solid perspective for rendering Seneca’s ideas workable in our century.
If you are interested in applying rational ideas in all sorts of situations, I recommend my book “Thriving in difficult times.”
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