I Was Reading Some Seneca This Morning

I was reading some Seneca this morning in Lopate’s great book The Art of the Personal Essay.

One piece was about NOISE, the other about ASTHMA.

Living as I do, in smoggy, loud L.A., I was struck by the similarities to ancient Rome.

What struck me most about the asthma piece was Seneca’s take on death, a take that I have had for years. It gave me great peace and a little hit to my vanity that Seneca and I, on very separate occasions, separated by about two-thousand years, arrived at the same conclusion: Death is going to be just like it was before you were born, and that wasn’t particularly painful, was it?

The Roman Classicists were so pragmatic.

Imagine if you will the day before you were born. What was that day like? If you are a pro-life blastula fetishist, then imagine the day before you were conceived. What was that day like for you? There’s death for you.

When you go to your great reward, I imagine it is that day. Get the New York Times front page all about that day. That’s where you’re heading.