Lucius Annaeus Seneca

Rome, July 15th, 62 AD.

My dear Lucilius,

The Saturnalia approaches, and with it the familiar questions that arise whenever our society turns to celebration: How should a philosopher engage with festivals? Should we participate in the general revelry or withdraw into serious contemplation? I write to share with you thoughts on this matter, for it touches on fundamental questions of how we should live.

First, let me say that complete withdrawal from social life is neither necessary nor wise. We are social creatures, and part of virtue lies in fulfilling our roles within the community. To refuse all participation in festivals would mark us as sour misanthropes rather than wise philosophers. But neither should we surrender ourselves entirely to celebration, losing sight of the principles that guide our daily lives.

The key lies in moderation and purpose. Participate in festivals, yes, but with awareness of why you do so and careful attention to your inner state. Use these occasions to practice virtue rather than to escape from its demands. Show kindness to others, express gratitude for your blessings, and enjoy the companionship of friends. But do not let pleasure become your master or luxury dull your philosophical edge.

This brings me to a practice I strongly recommend, especially during seasons of abundance: set aside certain days during which you shall be content with the scantiest and cheapest fare, with coarse and rough dress, saying to yourself the while: “Is this the condition that I feared?” Let your body experience what your mind may someday need to endure with equanimity.

I do not suggest this from any hatred of pleasure or belief that suffering is inherently good. Rather, I recommend it as training for the soul. Just as athletes exercise their bodies to perform under pressure, we must exercise our capacity for contentment under all circumstances. It is while Fortune is kind that we should fortify ourselves against her violence.

This practice serves multiple purposes. First, it reveals how little we actually need for contentment. Most of our daily luxuries, when examined closely, contribute nothing to our happiness. The man who discovers he can be content with simple food, basic shelter, and plain clothing has liberated himself from a thousand anxieties about losing what he possesses.

Second, voluntary deprivation builds confidence in our ability to handle involuntary hardship. The person who has never experienced want lives in constant fear of poverty. But the person who has deliberately chosen simplicity knows that even if fortune strips away his wealth, his inner peace remains intact. He can say to fate: “I have already tested myself against your worst, and I survived.”

Third, this practice sharpens our appreciation for ordinary pleasures. After a day of simple bread and water, a regular meal becomes a feast. After sleeping on the floor, your normal bed seems luxurious. Voluntary deprivation does not diminish pleasure but intensifies our gratitude for it when it returns.

But let me be clear: the goal is not to live permanently in deprivation but to prove to yourself that you could do so if necessary. Return to your normal comforts, but return as their master rather than their slave. Enjoy luxury when it is available, but never become dependent upon it for your peace of mind.

During festival seasons, this practice becomes especially valuable. While others around you may be indulging to excess, you can participate thoughtfully. Enjoy the feast, but remember that you could be happy with simple food. Appreciate fine clothing, but know that rough garments would not diminish your dignity. Accept gifts graciously, but maintain the inner assurance that your happiness does not depend on them.

I have observed that those who fear poverty most are often those who have never experienced it, even voluntarily. They live in terror of conditions they have never tested themselves against. But the person who has deliberately embraced simplicity for short periods discovers that poverty holds no terrors he cannot face. This knowledge brings remarkable freedom.

Consider also how this practice affects your relationships with others. The man who knows he needs very little to be content is generous with what he has, for he gives without fear of lacking. He is also immune to envy, since he has proven to himself that others’ luxuries add nothing essential to human happiness. He can genuinely rejoice in others’ good fortune because it does not diminish his own contentment.

During festivals, observe yourself carefully. Notice when you feel compelled to indulge rather than choosing to participate. Pay attention to moments when your happiness seems to depend on external circumstances. These are opportunities for growth, chances to practice the self-discipline that will serve you in all seasons of life.

Here is a specific suggestion for the coming Saturnalia: participate in the social aspects of the festival - the gatherings, the gift-giving, the expressions of goodwill. But set aside one day during the celebration for voluntary simplicity. Eat plain food, wear simple clothes, and spend time in reflection. Ask yourself: “If this were my permanent condition, could I still find reasons for gratitude and joy?”

I predict you will discover what I have found: that the essentials of happiness - friendship, virtue, wisdom, the capacity for wonder and gratitude - require no external support. They flourish as well in poverty as in wealth, in simplicity as in luxury. This knowledge is worth more than all the gold in Rome, for it makes you truly free.

The wise man learns to live happily without riches as well as with them, by regarding wealth always as likely to elude him. He prepares for loss not out of pessimism but out of wisdom, knowing that fortune is changeable and that only virtue provides reliable security.

So enjoy the coming festivals, my friend, but enjoy them as a philosopher should - with gratitude, moderation, and the secure knowledge that your deepest joy comes from sources no external power can touch.

Farewell and be temperate in your celebrations, Seneca

P.S. - After your day of voluntary simplicity, notice whether the experience changed your perspective on your normal comforts. This awareness is the beginning of true freedom from material anxieties.