--Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, Book 11 (tr Long)
I once took expressions of this sort as morbid and pessimistic They made me feel as if nothing mattered, and that everything in life was fickle and fleeting. I assumed this meant that a sad resignation was the only solution.
My judgment, of course, said much more about myself than about my understanding of Stoicism. At no point is Marcus Aurelius, or any other Stoic, asking me to simply give up on life, and accept that everything is nasty, brutish, and short.
He isn't saying life doesn't matter; he's reminding us about those certain things in life that don't really matter. This leaves us with precisely those things that are lasting and unassailable.
The first time I re-read the passage with actual care, I understood. If I am troubled, what is the source of my trouble?
If I am the source, I need only change my thinking, and there is no vexation.
Is it something external to me, my fellows and my circumstances? These are not the measure of my happiness, so why am I allowing them to drag me down? It is only when I remember that the things I believe matter actually don't matter at all, that I can get a hold of my situation. That's not pessimism, that's sound and productive thinking.
I have considered it in the following way. What worries me? My possessions, reputation, position, or the satisfaction of my pleasures? Yet all of these things are entirely beyond my power, they are fleeting, they will come and go, and, in the end, whether or not I called them mine, they will make absolutely no difference.
What makes my life worth living is simply by how well it is lived, by wisdom and virtue. I may think that a richer man, or a more popular man, or a man who lives a few years longer, is better off. He is not, because the quantity of our circumstances is only as good as the quality of our character.
It may seem unfair that he has more money, or better friends, or the blessings of health. These differences may seem vast if we are fighting for scraps, but they are nothing at all when measured by Providence. The things that must pass, the things sadly cared about by the world, will inevitably end, sooner or later, and all of it will be but the blink of an eye in the order of all things.
In the end, the only thing I ever possessed was how I chose to think, love, and act. Mortality makes a wonderful equalizer, regardless of whether we are buried in a mausoleum or in a pauper's grave.
'Dying with the most toys', as they say, makes absolutely no difference once one is dead, and it didn't really matter much when we are alive, either. The only measure is how well I lived in the very short time I had.
Written in 11/2002
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