The Sin of Seneca

“We suffer more in our imagination than in reality.”

Dear Nim and Mei,

I write to you not with the hope that your spring will blossom forever, but with the hope that these letters will guide you toward Stoicism—the art and philosophy of fortitude. Everything, my dear friends, begins with the foundation of projection. By this, I mean that our fears are often worst lived in our minds, for we dwell on them relentlessly, giving them weight and shape both day and night. This, too, is a form of suffering, though not the trivial kind born of complaint or self-pity. No, this is a suffering that sharpens, that trains the mind, that acquaints you with the prison of your own soul. It urges you to reflect on your path even as you fail to alter it.

And yet, even when we act to change our course, much remains beyond our control: life and death, wealth and poverty, fortune and loss. What truly robs us of contentment is not these external things but the games played by our imagination. It conjures visions of the worst-case scenario, presenting them as real and imminent. You may ask, why does imagination do this? Why, when it has the power to envision beauty and spring, does it so often torment us instead? The answer lies in its dual nature: potent yet perilous. It tricks you into experiencing pain before its time, eroding your vitality and disrupting the natural flow of your being.

Beware, then, of what you feed your imagination. I hear the cruelty in your words and the pain they carry. It seems you have boarded a sinking ship, entered a battle you cannot win. But victory, I must remind you, is a fool’s game. Nothing can be won in a world where all is in flux.

Do not ask fools what they fear most—they will give you a litany of imagined horrors, for that is the easiest projection. But ask a wise man, and he will pause. He will answer not with a list of fears but with a lesson: how he has learned to submit to the power of adversity without letting it conquer him. I shall write to you in another letter on the meditation of evils, but for now, heed this: let not your imagination play tyrant over you.

Reality is lighter when suffering is chosen, not imposed. Choose your suffering wisely, for in doing so, you reclaim your power. Let your imagination serve you, not rule you—you are far wiser than its fleeting tricks.

Farewell, Seneca