Many of us young Grovers have come to college seeking to grow in wisdom, knowledge, and understanding of ourselves and our world. We pursue this goal by reading and dialoguing with thinkers of the past who often encourage us to pursue a life marked by reflection, yet many students do not have the time or desire to reflect. This is an old problem, and the Roman philosopher Seneca the Younger offers keen insight on the issue in his essay “On the Shortness of Life.” Self-reflection, man’s active examination of himself and his personal past, is, according to Seneca, necessary for a flourishing life because it directs the mind to transcendent considerations, leads to better living, and prepares one to die.
Contemplation of one’s past and one’s person raises the mind above trivialities toward the transcendent. Seneca describes the past as a “holy and consecrated part of our time…removed from the dominion of Fortune, and which cannot be disquieted by want, fear, or attacks of sickness.” Seneca recognizes that our memories can raise us above the worries and desires of the present moment, opening our minds to consider the deeper meaning behind those experiences. In short, our past is what allows us to transcend our limited present and boldly approach our uncertain future. St. Augustine likewise supported self-reflection as a way of pursuing the ultimate transcendence—God. In his Confessions, Augustine writes, “I will now call to mind my past foulness, and the carnal corruptions of my soul; not because I love them, but that I may love Thee, O my God.” Augustine was deliberately reviewing his memories to better understand and appreciate God and His salvation. In this way, he sought to obey the command to love God with all one’s mind.
Self-reflection also leads to better living. Seneca observes that those who live unwisely hate to look back on their past and see their own poor decisions. Only the careful can contemplate, and self-reflection must either drive one away from the past or toward a way of living which can be reviewed with satisfaction. History and personal experience prove these principles true. The life of Ashoka, a Buddhist king of India in the third century BC, exemplifies this principle well. Ashoka came to power and reigned violently before being “moved to remorse” by those who suffered because of an invasion he led. He then devoted himself to Buddhism and benevolent rule, erecting “Pillar edicts” throughout his empire to declare his conversion and ruling principles. Reflecting on his destructive decisions led him, as it has led many others, to wiser living and greater flourishing.
Finally, reflection is the only way to properly prepare for death. Seneca had a high view of the importance of preparing for death, even writing that “one’s whole life must be spent in learning how to die.” This requires thoughtfulness, attention, and reflection. One such example, beautifully sketched in Willa Cather’s novel Death Comes for the Archbishop, is Jean Latour. After a lifetime of faithful service to the Catholic Church, he is prepared to conclude his days peacefully: “During those last weeks of the bishop’s life, he thought very little about death; it was the Past he was leaving. The future would take care of itself.” One may also consider the Apostle Paul; he, too, gave his life as an offering to God and reflected at the end, “the time of my departure has come. I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith. Henceforth there is laid up for me the crown of righteousness.” Only in reflection on what one has done, learned, and believed in this life can one conquer the fear of the next.
And yet, there is a danger in self-reflection. Selfishness, bitterness, restlessness, and all manner of self-centered maladies can arise when one dives uncarefully into the human soul. I am reminded of George Herbert’s poem “The Collar,” in which the speaker fumes at his situation, despises his seemingly worthless devotion to God, and prepares to set out on his own to “Recover all [his] sigh-blown age/ on double pleasures.” Here is a man who has reflected and come to the wrong conclusions about his situation, himself, and his God. Herbert’s problem? Not distraction, but distortion, and it is only the voice of God calling, “Child,” which restores his clarity of mind.
Our self-reflection, though a wonderful blessing, cannot deliver us from our brokenness within. David recognizes this in Psalm 19 when he asks, “Who can discern his errors?” Only with the help of the Holy Spirit and the Word of God can we begin to see ourselves and our lives rightly: “Search me, O God, and know my heart! Try me and know my thoughts! And see if there be any grievous way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting!”
