Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 5.5

You say men cannot admire the sharpness of your wits. So be it, but there are many other things of which you cannot say, that you are not formed for them by Nature.

Show those qualities, then, that are altogether in your power: sincerity, gravity, endurance of labor, aversion to pleasure, contentment with your portion and with few things, benevolence, frankness, no love of superfluity, freedom from trifling magnanimity.

Do you not see how many qualities you are immediately able to exhibit, in which there is no excuse of natural incapacity and unfitness, and yet you still remain voluntarily below the mark?

Or are you compelled through being defectively furnished by Nature to murmur, and to be stingy, and to flatter, and to find fault with your poor body, and to try to please men, and to make great display, and to be so restless in thy mind?

No, by the gods, but you might have been delivered from these things long ago. Only if in truth you can be charged with being rather slow and dull of comprehension, you must exert yourself about this also, not neglecting it nor yet taking pleasure in your dullness.

—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, Book 5 (tr Long)

I noticed from very early on, from as soon as they decided to send me to school, that I was never really thought of as smart, funny, charming, confident, creative, or handsome. I also learned very quickly that these were the very qualities we are expected to admire in others. We tend to choose our friends, our lovers, and our colleagues by precisely those measures. We also believe we will become successful, popular, and rich precisely because we possess such things.

In hindsight, I maintained a remarkable sense of optimism during those years. When I realized that emulating such characteristics wasn’t in the cards, I did my best to work with being myself, and hoping that this could make up for the absence of all the rest. There were a few times when it worked, but far too many times it didn’t, and at one point the imbalance simply broke me inside.

Then, as so many will sadly do, I started to complain, to become angry, and to feel sorry for myself. I would put everything I had within me into an endeavor, and I would find it completely rejected or ignored. I would become frustrated when those who were successful, precisely because of their natural gifts, would be dismissive of the fact that I wasn’t just like them.

My mistake was threefold. First, I did not understand what true success even was. Second, I did not understand what qualities were actually necessary to achieve true success. Third, I did not understand that those qualities were hardly beyond my power. That was why I was discontent and despondent.

Success is not what I may receive from my efforts, but what I may give from my efforts.

Of all the qualities I may possess, the only one necessary for true success is virtue.

Virtue is always something I can do for myself, regardless of whatever circumstances or gifts I may or may not have.

Let’s say I’m not terribly clever, or outgoing, or good-looking. I can gladly accept what I may have, and work to improve it to the best that it can be. Is my mind slow? Am I socially awkward? Do I look hideous to others? There are certainly things I can do to make those things better, in however small a way.

The danger facing me is neglecting what is given entirely, or just sitting back and feeling miserable about it.

Even then, these qualities aren’t the essential ones, and what other people think about them is neither here nor there. There is no need to buy any more options or accessories. Everything life needs come standard.

Can I be thoughtful, loving, and grateful in all of my dealings? It takes nothing special to do these things. Put the proverbial dunce cap on my head, and I can still do them.

I will only choose to be ignorant, hateful, and demanding when I am dissatisfied with who I might be, and I expect to receive whatever I feel jealous about in others.

When I was in the Boy Scouts, I had one of the most wonderful Scoutmasters there could ever be. I once told him that I felt inferior, because I couldn’t always do the things the other Scouts, who were physically stronger and emotionally more confident, could manage to do. He gave me one of the kindest looks I’ve seen, not one of condescension, but one of complete understanding.

“Not everyone can do everything,” he said, “but anyone can do anything that matters. Can you recite the Scout Law for me?”

That I could. “A Scout is trustworthy, loyal, helpful, friendly, courteous, kind, obedient, cheerful, thrifty, brave, clean, and reverent.”

“Can you do those things?”

I hesitated. “I think so?”

“No, can you do them? Yes or no?”

“Yes.”

“Will you do them? Yes or no? I don’t care how far you can swim, or how good you are at math, or how many matches it takes for you to light a fire.”

“Yes.”

“Then you’re a Scout, and one of the best. The rest is just window dressing.” I still use that phrase to this day, thanks to him.

Not everyone has the tools to be a big man, but everyone has the tools to be a good man. Am I smart, funny, charming, confident, creative, or handsome? Not really. Am I simply decent? Only I can decide that. 

Written in 3/2006