In a single night in the year 64, Lyon burned to the ground, then one of the richest cities of Gaul. Seneca's friend Liberalis, who came from there, was devastated; not only by the loss, but by the speed: no siege, no warning, no time to get used to the idea. Seneca wrote him a letter that has been preserved. One night, he wrote, lay between a very great city and none. Precisely for that reason, he said, you must expect the unexpected daily: not to become gloomy, but because fate never announces its appointments. And he predicted that the city would be rebuilt, more beautiful than before. So it happened.
Not your disaster, but your lesson: everything that stands can lie flat tomorrow, and the calendar gives no warning.
Whether and when the unexpected comes: not yours, never was. What is yours: whether it ambushes you as an impossibility or finds you as an acquaintance. The Stoic calmly reviews now and then what he could lose, not to suffer in advance, but to take away fate's element of surprise. Whoever glances at the exits daily does not panic when there is a fire.
What is the very great city in your life that you silently assume will still be standing tomorrow? And when did you last calmly consider that this is an assumption?
Yours, Not Yours · A Stoic practice ground · All cases