Be careful what the people who love you wish for you. In this short, fiery letter, Seneca “files a complaint” against the prayers of our families, who wish us wealth, status, and plenty, and against our own endless appetite for more. Nature, he reminds us, is satisfied with very little. And he ends with a striking definition of being truly alive: being useful to others and making good use of yourself.
From Seneca to Lucilius
I’m filing a complaint. I’m bringing a lawsuit. I’m angry. Do you still want what your nurse, your guardian, or your mother prayed for on your behalf? Don’t you understand yet what harm they were praying for? Oh, how hostile to us are the wishes of our own families! And they’re all the more hostile the more completely they come true.
At my age, it doesn’t surprise me that nothing but harm follows us from our earliest years, since we grew up surrounded by the curses our parents called down on us. May the gods also hear our own cry, raised on our own behalf, one that asks for no favors!
How Long Will We Keep Asking?
How long will we keep making demands of the gods, as if we still couldn’t support ourselves? How long will we keep filling the markets of our great cities with grain? How long must whole peoples harvest it for us? How long will many ships carry the ingredients of a single meal, and not from a single sea?
A bull is filled by grazing a few acres, and one forest is big enough for a herd of elephants. But human beings take their food from both land and sea. What, then? When nature gave us these small bodies, did she give us stomachs so bottomless that we’d outdo the biggest and greediest animals in appetite? Not at all.
Nature Asks for Very Little
How little it takes to satisfy nature! A very small amount will send her away content. It isn’t the natural hunger of our stomachs that costs us so much, but our anxious cravings.
So those who, as Sallust puts it, “obey their stomachs” should be counted among the animals, not among human beings. And some people, in fact, should be counted not even among the animals, but among the dead.
What It Means to Be Alive
The person who is truly alive is the one who is useful to many; the person who is truly alive is the one who makes good use of himself. But those who crawl into a hole and go numb are no better off in their homes than in their tombs. You might as well carve their name right there on the marble doorframe of their house, because they’ve died before their death.
Farewell.
Breaking It Down: A Modern Take on Letter 60
Letter 60 is brief and punchy. Seneca isn’t attacking parents; he’s pointing out that even loving wishes, like “I hope you get rich” or “I hope you get everything you want,” can steer us toward a life of craving. Then he widens the lens to a whole society shipping food across the seas to feed appetites that nature never asked for. His closing lines offer a test anyone can use: are you useful to others, and are you making good use of your own life?
1. Loving wishes can still mislead
“How hostile to us are the wishes of our own families!” The people who love us often wish us money, status, and comfort. Those wishes are kind, but if we adopt them without thinking, they can set us chasing the wrong things.
2. Getting what we wanted can hurt
Seneca says those wishes become more harmful “the more completely they come true.” Many people have reached a long-sought goal and found it emptier, or heavier, than they expected.
3. Pray for nothing
Seneca’s own prayer is “one that asks for no favors.” It’s a quiet kind of freedom: wanting to be good rather than wanting to be given things.
4. Stand on your own feet
He asks how long we’ll keep making demands “as if we still couldn’t support ourselves.” Self-reliance in what we want, not just in what we earn, is a mark of maturity.
5. Every meal has a long supply chain
Seneca was struck that many ships carried the ingredients of a single meal. Today the chain is even longer, and it’s worth remembering the many workers whose labor puts food on our tables, and being grateful for it.
6. Nature asks for little
“How little it takes to satisfy nature!” Our bodies need far less than our appetites demand. Simple food, shared with others, is usually more than enough.
7. Cravings, not hunger, are expensive
“It isn’t the natural hunger of our stomachs that costs us so much, but our anxious cravings.” Most of our spending, and much of our stress, comes from wants we’ve learned, not needs we were born with.
8. Don’t just obey your appetites
People who simply “obey their stomachs,” Seneca says, live more like animals than human beings. What makes us human is the ability to choose, to pause between the impulse and the action.
9. Being alive means being useful
“The person who is truly alive is the one who is useful to many.” A life spent caring for others, through work, family, or community, is a life fully lived. It’s a beautiful standard, and one open to everyone.
10. Use yourself well
Seneca adds that the truly alive person “makes good use of himself.” Developing our own minds and talents isn’t selfish; it’s how we become able to help others.
11. Don’t die before your death
Those who hide away and go numb “have died before their death.” Seneca isn’t talking about people who are sick or struggling, but about anyone who chooses a life of idle comfort over engagement. Wherever we are, there’s usually some small way to stay connected and useful.
Key Takeaways from Letter 60
- Examine inherited wishes. Not every loving hope is good for you.
- Granted wishes can hurt. Success can be heavier than expected.
- Ask for no favors. Want goodness more than gifts.
- Stand on your own feet. Be self-reliant in your desires.
- Be grateful for your food. Many hands bring it to you.
- Nature needs little. A small amount is enough.
- Cravings are costly. Hunger is cheap.
- Pause before you obey your appetite. Choice makes us human.
- Be useful to many. That’s what it means to be alive.
- Make good use of yourself. Grow so you can give.
- Don’t die before your death. Stay engaged with life.
“It isn’t the natural hunger of our stomachs that costs us so much, but our anxious cravings.”
— Seneca, Letter 60
Keep Seneca With You
If this letter spoke to you
Marcus Aurelius’s private notebook, in Gregory Hays’s readable translation.
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Next up: Letter 61 — On Meeting Death Cheerfully
