Remember: You Can Lead A Horse To Water, But You Can’t Make It Drink

There is a fascinating statue of Seneca and Nero done by the Spanish sculptor Eduardo Barrón in 1904. Even though it depicts a scene centuries after the fact, it manages to capture the timeless elements of the two men’s characters. Seneca, well into old age, sits with his legs crossed, draped in a beautiful toga but otherwise unadorned. Spread across his lap and onto the simple bench is a document he's written. Maybe it's a speech. Maybe it's a law being debated by the Senate. Maybe it's the text of his essay and warning to Nero, Of Clemency. His fingers point to a spot in the text. His body language is open. He is trying to teach. He is wisdom embodied, hoping to instill in his young charge the seriousness of the tasks before him. Nero, sitting across from Seneca, is nearly the opposite of his advisor in every way. He is hooded, sitting in a throne-like chair. A fine blanket rests behind him. He's wearing jewelry. His expression is sullen—both fists are clenched and one rests on his temple as if he can't bring himself to pay attention. He is looking down at the ground. His feet are tucked behind him, crossed at the ankles. He knows he should be listening, but he isn't. He'd rather be anywhere else. Soon enough, he is thinking, I won’t have to endure these lectures. Then I’ll be able to do whatever I want. Seneca can clearly see this body language, and yet he proceeds. He proceeded for many years, in fact. Why? Because he hoped some of it—any of it—would get through. Because he knew the stakes were high. Because he knew his job was to try, and he was going to die trying (indeed, he did) to teach Nero to be good. In the end, Seneca made only minimal impact on Nero, a man who was clearly deranged and had little interest in being a good emperor. Seneca lost much of his reputation in the process of working for Nero (criticism which has merit). But another way to see this exchange—and perhaps that’s what Eduardo Barron intended—is that it’s an illustration of a Stoic lesson: You can lead a horse to water, but you can’t make them drink. You control what you do and say, not whether people listen. All a Stoic can do is show up and do our work. And we have to keep showing up, even if we are rebuffed, scorned, or ignored. Because the work is important. See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info. 📢 Share | ⚙️ Manage Subscription

Speaker names marked ? are inferred from speaking time and the show’s known hosts — they are not voice-verified.

• 0:06Ryan Holiday?

  Welcome to The Daily Stoic, where each day we read a short passage designed to help you cultivate the strength, insight, wisdom necessary for living the good life. Each one of these passages is based on the 2,000 year old philosophy that has guided some of history's greatest men and women. For more, you can visit us at DailyStoic.com. Remember, you can lead a horse to water, but you can't make it drink. There's a fascinating statue of Seneca and Nero done by the Spanish sculptor Eduardo Barron in 1904. Even though it depicts a scene many centuries after the fact, it manages to capture the timeless elements of the two men's characters. Seneca, well into old

• 0:51Ryan Holiday?

  age, sits with his legs crossed, draped in a beautiful toga but otherwise unadorned. Spread across his lap and onto the simple bench is a document he's written. Maybe it's a speech, maybe it's a law being debated by the senate, maybe it's the text of his essay and warning to Nero on clemency. His fingers point to a spot in the text, his body language is open, he's trying to teach. He is wisdom embodied, hoping to instill in his young charge the seriousness of the tasks before him. Nero, seated across from Seneca, is nearly the opposite of his advisor in every way. He is hooded, sitting in a

• 1:32Ryan Holiday?

  throne-like chair, a fine blanket rests behind him, he's wearing jewelry, his expression is sullen, both fists are clenched and one rests on his temple as if he can't bring himself to pay attention. He is looking down at the ground, his feet are tucked behind him, crossed at the ankles. He knows he should be listening, but he isn't, he'd rather be anywhere else. Soon enough, he is thinking, "I won't have to endure these lectures anymore, then I'll be able to do whatever I want." Seneca can clearly see this language and yet he proceeds. He's proceeded for many years, in fact. Why? Because he's hoping... Hoping that some of it, any of it, will get through because he knows the stakes are

• 2:14Ryan Holiday?

  high, because he knew that his job was to try and he was going to die trying, indeed he did, to teach Nero to be good. In the end, Seneca made only minimal impact on Nero, a man who was so clearly deranged and had little interest in being a good emperor. Seneca lost much of his reputation in the process of working for Nero, criticism which of course has merit. But another way to see this exchange, and perhaps that's what the sculpture intends, is that it's an illustration of a Stoic lesson. You can lead a horse to water, but you can't make them drink. You control what you do and say, not whether people listen. All a Stoic can do is show up and do our work.

• 2:56Ryan Holiday?

  We have to keep showing up, even if we are rebuffed, scorned, or ignored, because the work is important. Hey, everyone. I just wanted to invite you to do the 21-day New Year, New You Daily Stoic Challenge that we're starting. We know, as Epictetus said, that the real delight comes from focusing on our own improvement day to day, on doing the work, on doing the training we know to be the person we want to be. Well, you can do that with our new Daily Stoic New Year, New You Challenge. It's starting very soon, so check it out, dailystoic.com/challenge.