Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 4.2

Let no act be done without a purpose, nor otherwise than according to the perfect principles of art.

—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, Book 4 (tr Long)

Now it may seem quite obvious to say that everything should be done with a purpose, or that everything should be done well. Surely we all have our reasons for acting as we do, and we all try to do our best?

Sometimes, however, we don’t appear to act for any real purpose at all, or at least not for one that can be clearly conceived or intelligently articulated. Our intentions may come only from surrender to instinct and desire, or we may embrace what seems to be easiest or most popular. We may act from thoughtless habit, or from the pressures outside of us, or from a hasty estimation of impressions.

Why did we do this or that? “I don’t know.” “Just because.” “I felt like it.” “Who cares?” We often associate these sorts of responses with younger people, though I have heard them just as often from those who are older. Those of us who should know better just sound more smug and clever when we speak this way.

Nor do we always strive to do things well. In fact, we quite often do as little as we can to scrape by. Indeed, having perhaps neglected to keep in mind a purpose, we also neglect to have our actions live up to any real goal or expectation.

The principles of art here are not just those of art in the narrow sense of the fine arts, but art in the broader Classical sense, techne, of using the powers of the mind to make or produce something that is or practical use and benefit. It is the skill of any fine craftsmanship. A man who makes something well will take pride in his production, because he knows what purpose it serves, and he knows what is needed to achieve that purpose. The means of his craft are always ordered toward a proper end.

Remove that aiming for a goal, and we remove our concern for how well we do the job. If we don’t care why we are doing something, we will hardly care about the quality of what we do.

The Stoic, I believe, will always keep in mind the ultimate purpose of everything that he does, in even the most commonplace tasks. Once he forgets this, his actions are unmoored and drifting without direction. How is the smallest deed assisting me to perfect my human nature, and how is this in turn serving the fullness of all Nature?

I often find myself frustrated with a chore, or burdened by doing something that seems pointless. It won’t make me rich, it isn’t making me feel good, and it certainly doesn’t get me any appreciation. Why bother doing it well, or even doing it at all?

When I feel that kind of resentment, I know I need to tune my thinking. I will make a deliberate decision to reorder my sense of purpose. I take a moment to remind myself that I am not here on this earth to make money, or to be gratified, or to win anyone’s respect. I am here on this earth to be happy by practicing wisdom, courage, temperance, and justice, and anything I do, however menial it may seem, can give me a chance to do all of these things. I am here for a reason, and everything I am faced with can share in that reason.

Practice can, of course, make this easier, but quite often, when I am distracted by false goods, I find myself having to start from square one. No matter. Like Hephaestus at his forge, the god of all craftsmen, I can strive to make something of the highest quality, in the knowledge that it improves me, and that it may assist others in improving themselves. That can be my purpose, and that can be my reward.

Written in 4/2005

Image: Peter Paul Rubens, Vulcan Forging the Thunderbolts of Jupiter (c. 1636)