Letter 35: On the Friendship of Kindred Minds

Letter 35, “On the Friendship of Kindred Minds,” is short and tender, and it makes a surprising claim: Seneca tells Lucilius, “although you love me, you are not yet my friend.” Affection, he explains, isn’t the same as friendship — “friendship is always helpful, but love sometimes even does harm.” True friendship is a meeting of two settled, good characters, and that’s why Seneca keeps urging his friend to grow: he wants Lucilius as a real friend, in person, before old age runs out the clock. The letter ends with a simple, lasting test of progress: do you want the same things today that you wanted yesterday?

From Seneca to Lucilius

When I push you so hard toward your studies, it’s my own interest I’m looking after. I want your friendship, and I can’t have it unless you keep going, as you’ve begun, with the work of developing yourself.

Love Isn’t Yet Friendship

For right now, although you love me, you are not yet my friend. “But,” you reply, “do those words mean different things?” Not only different — completely unlike. A friend loves you, of course; but someone who loves you isn’t always your friend. That’s why friendship always helps, while love sometimes even does harm. Work to perfect yourself, if for no other reason than so that you may learn how to love.

Hurry — for My Sake and Yours

So hurry, so that while you’re perfecting yourself for my benefit, you don’t end up having learned perfection for someone else’s. I’m already getting some benefit from imagining that the two of us will be of one mind, and that whatever part of my strength has given way to age will come back to me from yours — though there isn’t really such a gap in our ages.

Absence Is Light; Presence Is Living

But I want to rejoice in the real thing. We feel joy over those we love even when we’re apart, but that joy is light and fleeting. The sight of someone, their presence, real time together — that brings a living pleasure. At least it does if you see not only the person you long for, but the kind of person you long for.

So give yourself to me as a gift of great value. And to push yourself harder, remember that you are mortal, and I am old.

Find Me — but Find Yourself First

Hurry to find me — but hurry to find yourself first. Make progress, and above all, try to be consistent with yourself.

The Test: Do You Want Today What You Wanted Yesterday?

When you want to know whether you’ve accomplished anything, ask whether you want the same things today that you wanted yesterday. A shifting will shows a mind at sea, heading this way and that as the wind blows. What is settled and solid doesn’t wander from its place.

That is the blessed condition of the completely wise person — and, to some extent, of the one who is progressing and has made real headway. What’s the difference between them? The one in progress is in motion but doesn’t change position; it just rocks up and down where it is. The other isn’t in motion at all.

Farewell.

Breaking It Down: A Modern Take on Letter 35

Letter 35 continues Seneca’s long meditation on friendship (Letters 3, 6, and 9), adding a fine and slightly startling distinction between loving someone and being their friend. Here’s what stands out for a modern reader:

1. Growth Is Something We Owe Our Friends

“I want your friendship, and I can’t have it unless you keep going.” Our own development isn’t only private self-improvement — it’s what makes us capable of deep friendship. Becoming better is a gift to the people close to us.

2. Love Isn’t the Same as Friendship

“Although you love me, you are not yet my friend.” Affection can exist without the shared values, honesty, and steadiness that real friendship requires. Seneca isn’t being cold; he’s naming a higher bar.

3. Love Can Do Harm; Friendship Always Helps

“Friendship always helps, while love sometimes even does harm.” Think of the parent who enables, or the partner who flatters instead of telling the truth. Love without wisdom can hurt; friendship, by definition, seeks the other’s real good.

4. Learn How to Love

Perfect yourself “so that you may learn how to love.” Loving well is a skill that grows with character. Selfish love, Seneca implies, becomes true friendship only as it is purified of self-interest.

5. Presence Over Absence

“Joy over those we love when we’re apart is light and fleeting… their presence brings a living pleasure.” In an age of texts and video calls, it’s a gentle reminder that real time together has no substitute.

6. You Are Mortal, and I Am Old

Seneca adds urgency with five quiet words: “you are mortal, and I am old.” Friendships, like everything else, run on borrowed time. Don’t postpone the people who matter.

7. Find Yourself First

“Hurry to find me — but hurry to find yourself first.” You can’t fully meet another person until you’ve become someone stable enough to meet. Self-knowledge comes before deep connection.

8. The Simplest Test of Progress

“Ask whether you want the same things today that you wanted yesterday.” It echoes Letter 20’s definition of wisdom. Constantly shifting desires mean a mind still blown by the wind.

9. Motion Isn’t Always Progress

The closing image is subtle: the person still progressing is “in motion but doesn’t change position; it just rocks up and down where it is.” Like a ship at anchor, they’re moored even while the waves move them. The wise person is past even that — simply still.

Key Takeaways from Letter 35

• Growth is a gift to our friends. Becoming better deepens our friendships.
• Love isn’t yet friendship. Friendship asks for shared character.
• Friendship always helps. Unwise love can harm.
• Loving well is a skill. It grows as we do.
• Presence beats absence. Make real time for the people you love.
• Life is short for friendships too. Don’t postpone them.
• Find yourself first. Self-knowledge comes before deep connection.
• Test your progress by your wants. Do you want today what you wanted yesterday?
• Be anchored. Settled people may rock, but they don’t drift.

“For right now, although you love me, you are not yet my friend.”

— Seneca, Letter 35

Next up: Letter 36 — On the Value of Retirement

Seneca, Lucius Annaeus

Seneca was born in the year 4 B.C., a time of great opportunity, at Corduba, in Spain, son of the talented rhetorician, Annaeus Seneca. We gather that the family moved to Rome during the boyhood of Lucius, that he was educated for the bar, and that he was soon attracted by the Stoic philosophy, . The last two years of Seneca's life were spent in travelling about southern Italy, composing essays on natural history and relieving his burdened soul by correspondence with his friend Lucilius. These letters are all addressed to Lucilius. The native country of this Lucilius was Campania, and his native city Pompeii or Naples. He was a Roman knight, having gained that position, as Seneca tells us, by sheer industry. Prominent in the civil service, he had filled many important positions and was, at the time when the Letters were written, procurator in Sicily. It may be safely said that the years 63-65 constitute the period of the Letters. There were 124 Letters in all. They ring as true today as they did 1,949 years ago!

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