May 16
You measure circles and calculate the stars — measure your own soul instead. What use is it to know how small the earth is, if your own mind remains unknown to you?
Letters to Lucilius, Letter 88 (freely rendered)
Listening mode
You measure circles and calculate the stars — measure your own soul instead. What use is it to know how small the earth is, if your own mind remains unknown to you?
You probably know a great deal about yourself. You know how many hours of sleep you need, what music you put on after a long day, and that you talk faster when you're pressed for time. Much of this someone else could write down too. These are observations from the outside, only made at the closest possible range.
It gets harder with a minor refusal that annoys you out of all proportion. Or with the relief you felt when a plan fell through that you had, after all, wanted. Here all your gathered knowledge is of little help. The reaction is unmistakably yours, and yet you would not have predicted it.
Everything else you measure stays quietly where it is. With you it's different: as soon as you've found an explanation, you start adjusting yourself to it a little, and then it no longer quite fits. What you find out about yourself changes you to some degree.
That may be why self-knowledge is more like getting to know a person than taking a measurement. You don't know a friend well because he can never surprise you again. It's more that you still recognise him even when he surprises you.
