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Note: This post is part of a weekly series called ‘Seneca Sundays’. Each week, I reflect on one of Seneca’s ‘Moral Letters to Lucilius’, and summarise the most practical and useful principles to share with you.

In this letter, Seneca shares his view on friendship, and how to choose one’s friends.

1. Real friendship involves more trust than we think

“If you consider any man a friend whom you do not trust as you trust yourself, you are mightily mistaken and you do not sufficiently understand what true friendship means. Indeed, I would have you discuss everything with a friend.”

This idea may not be for everyone, but at the very least, it’s a good challenge to think about who we trust, what we share with them, and how vulnerable we’re willing to be.

It also got me thinking: to what extent is the richness of life correlated with the depth of friendship?

2. Don’t rush into friendship

Seneca isn’t telling us to blindly trust anyone though. His point is that if we’re going to trust someone deeply, we can’t rush into that friendship.

Many people “judge a person after they have made him their friend, instead of making him their friend after they have judged him.”

This idea felt a little cold at first; perhaps too calculated. But considering the amount of time we spend with friends, and the influence they can have on the way we think and act, being cautious and deliberate likely pays off in the long run.

The thread that runs throughout this letter is Seneca’s focus on fewer, deeper, and more vulnerable friendships. It’s also made me feel grateful for the family and friends who came to mind as I wrote this post.

Here’s to friendship!

What if people worked every day like they do the day before vacation?

There’s an energy, a get-things-done attitude, a sense that everything will be completed.

What if we could take a little bit of that day before vacation sauce, and use it in our day-to-day?

Would it add an extra pep to our step? Would we show up with a bit more oomph?

Or perhaps the day before vacation simply serves as a reminder that we need to properly switch off.

A few times per year I’ll have a day where I’ll have no time to write a post.

The day usually is a mess of work and other responsibilities, and I find myself at 01:30am staring at a blank screen.

But the streak, the momentum, the inching forward; all of it matters.

In fact, it matters even more on these days.

Some businesses make hard things easy.

Others make easy things hard.

Who do you think wins in the long run?

I loved this blog post from Seth Godin.

When I’m stressed, I’m guilty of trying to push through. I convince myself that once the task is done, I’ll feel better.

Seth says this is just us seeking reassurance.

We want reassurance that we’ve succeeded, survived, or that our hard work has made things better.

However, Seth says, “The solution to stress isn’t reassurance. We relieve stress by making choices about the stories we tell ourselves. What’s the difference between giving a speech to your dog and giving one on the TED stage? It’s the same speech. The difference is in the story we tell ourselves about the stakes, the opportunity and what might happen next. If that story gets debilitating enough, it can paralyze us.”

If a bird is all you’ve ever seen—no planes, nor helicopters—how would you think about human flight?

Would you think it impossible?

Would you think we’d need wings too?

Few people imagined a stiff wing with a propeller, but they were the ones who flew.

This leap is a pattern that has repeated itself in other innovations.

In a world of horse-drawn carriages, it took guts to imagine a machine that, with the turn of a key and a bit of fuel, unlocked the power of 200 horses.

In a world of exponential information growth, it took guts build a way to index and search every page and word on the internet.

In a world of fiat currency, it’s taking guts for people to build a decentralised financial system that doesn’t depend on any government for legitimacy.

What future innovations will require the same level of guts?

How do we approach building that world if a bird is all we’ve ever seen?

Although we are a blue ice cream truck, please know we still sell your favourite beverage.

Even though we’ve only seen it one way our entire lives, we can adapt to a change in colour, pace, or scenery.

Photo snapped on today’s cycle.

Note: This post is part of a weekly series called ‘Seneca Sundays’. Each week, I reflect on one of Seneca’s ‘Moral Letters to Lucilius’, and summarise the most practical and useful principles to share with you.

In this letter, Seneca gives us a framework for thinking about our words and conversation.

1. Seek out the low-toned conversation

Lecturers are fine. Speeches are good. Presentations can be helpful.

But if you “want to help someone learn, and not merely make them wish to learn” then the “low-toned words of conversation” is best.

Close, personal, and intimate conversations enter the mind with greater ease, and stick in the memory.

For example, I remember my teachers in school who would tell the class that we were “great kids; all smart and capable,” yet it is the one-on-one conversations with teachers who said they believed in me that have stuck with me for decades.

I’ve also recently been thinking about how purposeful one-on-one conversations in the workplace are more important for building team morale and culture than the presentations to large groups.

2. We don’t need many words, just a few effective ones

A good precept is like a seed.

“No matter how small the seed may be, if it finds favourable grounds it unfolds its strength. From an insignificant thing, it spreads to its greatest growth.”

If we have an open mind that is willing to listen, it only takes a few wise words to change our direction.

A slight change in direction now—a mere few degrees on the compass—can add up to a magnificent distance a few years down the road.

There are billions of people still without access to vaccines—with only 24% of the world being fully vaccinated.

Yet many countries—especially those dependent on tourism—want to open up.

This creates a moral dilemma: if you’re fully vaccinated, should you travel to a country with a lower vaccination coverage?

You may not be the one to transport the virus across a border, but some else inevitably will.

I’m hopefully heading to Greece next week, and they’ve had 52% of the population vaccinated compared to the UK’s 62%.

At the same time, Greece relies on tourism for 20% of its annual economic output and is hoping for a strong rebound from a dismal 2020.

I don’t think there is a right or wrong here, but I’d be keen to know where you stand on the issue.

Maru and I were debating something innocuous the other day, and I was trying to convince her with some shoddy logic and dubious data.

She asked for specifics.

I didn’t have ‘em.

“Be accurate, or don’t bother,” she quipped.

We laughed.

She was right (usually is).

I love how the internet enables niches.

Not the small business kind, but the why-would-you-ever-do-that-but-I-dig-it kind.

I recently came across one that’s worth sharing, even though it was abandoned back in 2016.

A woman, Karyn, decided to collect every Penguin book ever published, read them, and write a review for each one.

There are about 3,000 Penguin books, and as at her last post she had collected around 2,000 of them.

Although the project is no longer going, I still admire it. It’s niche, it’s unique, it’s visually striking (check out that bookshelf), and its something that usually only finds its way into the hands of people who dig this kinda stuff.

New Zealand just entered a 7 day lockdown.

The reason: one case of community transmission.

It’s a continuation of the “go hard, go early” approach they’ve had since the beginning of the pandemic.

And this approach makes sense given only 23% of the population is fully vaccinated.

It sits in stark contrast to the UK with a 75% vaccination rate, but zero restrictions, and a 7-day rolling average of 28,700 daily cases (or almost 200,000 cases per week).

Both countries are “sticking to the plan,” and both are probably too far down the hole to change now. It’ll be interesting when the post-pandemic analysis becomes available: what was ultimately the best approach, and what implications will it have for future global challenges?

I went to my first Sofar Sounds performance this weekend.

They’re “intimate music performances in unique venues,”—you get an email a couple days before the event with the location, and you only find out who the artists are on the day.

My friends and I loved watching Iosif Purits, a Russian artist who adapts orchestral pieces for the accordion.

Here is an example of his work from his YouTube channel.

The dexterity with which his fingers glide over the buttons is a sight to behold. And his “I’m mildly surprised” facial (eyebrow) expression as he plays is unique. Enjoy!

The rest day is often more important than the go day.

And when we rest, the deliberate decision to remove all expectations for ourselves is a habit worth practising.

Note: This post is part of a weekly series called ‘Seneca Sundays’. Each week, I reflect on one of Seneca’s ‘Moral Letters to Lucilius’, and summarise the most practical and useful principles to share with you.

In this letter, Seneca encourages us to change the way we look at situations when things go wrong, and to understand that every good thing in life comes with a commensurate, unavoidable tax.

1. Inevitably, bad things will happen

When things go wrong, it’s easy to ask, “Why me? What did I do to deserve this?”

We will fall ill. We will toil. We will lose. We will fear. We will hurt. These things are inescapable.

Seneca challenges us to think about these as inevitable experiences, rather than accidents.

When we live with the assumption that Fortune will let us live in comfort and luxury indefinitely, we’re bound to get upset when bad things happen.

2. Anticipate life’s taxes

Seneca comments on how odd it is that people ask for a long life, but then get upset when their body starts to ache or they develop an illness—these people aren’t willing to pay the tax of life.

“A long life has troubles, just like a long journey includes dust, mud, and rain.”

This idea extends well to other areas. There’s a tax to taking that tough job, living far from family, and achieving our healthy and fitness goals.

Many want the outcome. Few are willing to pay the tax.