Dear Fellow Mortal,
A particular voice speaks up whenever we think about starting something late: isn’t it a little late for that?
Learning an instrument at sixty, going back to school at fifty, and taking philosophy seriously after a lifetime of ignoring it are all things we might think are too late to start.
Seneca heard that voice too, from his friend. He had begun attending a philosopher's lectures in his sixties, and Lucilius had teased him about it. His answer is both an apologia for late learning and an argument for the kind of learning that matters most.
So this week’s question: “Is It Too Late to Start?”
Sundays with Seneca
A year of Seneca’s letters, one each Sunday. Each meditation pairs one of his letters with the question at its heart and a practice for the week ahead: 52 Stoic questions for mortals. ***This series is available to members.
The Letter
Seneca to Lucilius, greetings.
You have threatened to become my enemy if I don’t keep you informed of everything I do each day. See how openly we live with each other, then, for I will confide even this: I have been attending a philosopher’s lectures. For four days now I have gone to his school and listened.
“A fine time of life for that!” you say. Yes, fine indeed. What is more foolish than refusing to learn simply because one hasn’t been learning for a long time? “What, must I follow the fashion of fops and youngsters?” If this is the only thing that discredits my old age, I am doing well. People of all ages are admitted to this classroom. If I, an old man, can go to the theater and the races, should I blush to attend a philosopher’s lecture?
You should keep learning as long as you are ignorant, which means, if the proverb is right, as long as you live. And no proverb fits better:
“As long as you live, keep learning how to live.”
There is also something I can teach in that school. You ask what?
That even an old man should keep learning.
But I am ashamed of humanity every time I enter that lecture hall. On my way to class, I have to pass right by the theater. It is packed. People are debating with tremendous energy who deserves to be called a good flute player. But in the other place, where the question is “What is a good person?” and the lesson is “How to be a good person,” very few attend, and most people think even these few are wasting their time. They are called empty-headed idlers. I hope I may earn that kind of mockery.
We should listen calmly to the jeers of the ignorant; when you are marching toward something honorable, you should scorn scorn itself.
So go on, Lucilius, and hurry, so that you are not forced to learn in old age, as I am. Indeed you must hurry all the more, since you have long neglected a subject that can hardly be mastered when one is old.
“How much progress will I make?” you ask.
