Seneca knew from experience. In one of the most dreadful periods of his life, he lost his livelihood, his home and then his young child. He was exiled on false charges. He buried an infant.

Fortune…she can be cruel.

As Seneca wrote to Marcia, the daughter of a prominent Roman historian, in his beautiful and moving “Consolations” essays:

“Snatch the pleasures your children bring, let your children in turn find delight in you, and drain joy to the dregs without delay; no promise has been given you for this night—nay, I have offered too long a respite!—no promise has been given even for this hour.”

Two thousand years later, that hard-won reminder holds true. Nothing is promised. The future is not certain. It’s a scary world—one we’re hostages to, as we’ve said. But we can’t dwell in sadness or fear.

All we can do is hold our children tight. We must snatch the pleasures they bring us and bring them pleasures too. Drain joy to the dregs together. Enjoy the hour…because not one second more is guaranteed.

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