Fortune falls heavy on those for whom she’s unexpected.
The one always on the lookout easily endures.”
Seneca, On Consolation to Helvia, 5.3
Long ago, there was once a master of the disciplined mind who had a treasured earthenware vessel from which she’d take all her beverages. Whenever using the vessel, or walking past it on the curio shelves, or talking about it with guests, deep within her mind, she’d say to herself, “It is already broken.” Then, as one would expect, that fateful day came and the prized vessel of the master fell, and shattered into a thousand thousand pieces. Upon seeing the brokenness of what was once her treasured vessel, the master simply said, “Ah, yes. There it is.”
See, the master was not shocked because she accepted the facts and the reality of the situation from the beginning of her relationship with the vessel:
Earthenware vessels are fragile.
Earthenware vessels are meant to be used.
One cannot control anything other than oneself.
Gravity works. Every time.
The amount of peace and calm we experience when things go pear-shaped is proportional to the amount of time we’ve spent considering the realities of what could possibly go pear-shaped prior to that moment.
The more we accept and amor our fati, the more peace we have.
The more we premeditatio on the malorum stuff, oddly enough, the more peace we have.
The more we memento our own mori, the more peace we have.
We, like the glass, are already broken. Accepting that fact will help us not be trapped by it.
What, then, will we do with all that time prior to breaking?
(See y’all tomorrow)