The Death of Marcus Aurelius

The Death of Marcus Aurelius

Thursday, September 20, 2018

Boethius, The Consolation 2.18

. . . “Out of all these possessions, then, which you reckon as your wealth, not one can really be shown to be your own.

“For if they have no beauty for you to acquire, what have they for which you should grieve if you lose them, or in keeping which you should rejoice? And if they are beautiful by their own nature, how are you the richer thereby? For these would have been pleasing of themselves, though cut out from your possessions.

“They do not become valuable by reason that they have come into your wealth, but you have desired to count them among your wealth, because they seemed valuable.

“Why then do you long for them with such railing against Fortune? You seek, I believe, to put want to flight by means of plenty. But you find that the opposite results. The more various is the beauty of furniture, the more helps are needed to keep it beautiful.

“And it is ever true that those who have much, need much. And on the other hand, those need least who measure their wealth by the needs of nature, not by excess of display.” . . .

—from Book 2, Prose 5

Those who have much, need much. Those who want to receive, always ask to receive more. Those who expect, will never stop expecting.

Yet having isn’t what matters. Receiving isn’t what matters. Expecting isn’t what matters.

My first proper reading of the Consolation made me rethink everything I had taken for granted. Though my family had always taught me that my character was what defined me, the world around me always taught me that what came to me was what defined me.

My own efforts, and my own ability and achievements, proper society said, existed so that I could get some sort of an external reward. My merits were never my merits, not simply for their own sake, but rather a means for becoming important in the eyes of the world.

Most young people tend to be foolish, so I listened to the trends, not to the people who actually loved me. I would get caught up in the game of life, and I neglected the living of life.

I never lived up to the expectations of my snooty prep school, but when I got to college, I worked my tail off. I intended to make something of myself. And the whole time, I lost sight of what would make me a better person, in favor of what would make me a more successful person. I ended up right at the top of my class, and I ended up miserable.

I cared for all the recognition, but none of it was my own. I cared for acquiring things, but they made me no better. I wanted the rewards, without thinking about what I had to do in order to get the rewards. I looked to what was outside of me, and I ignored what was inside of me.

I started to become everything that, in my heart and mind, I knew to be wrong. Yet I fell for the lies, and I succumbed to all of the temptations. When I graduated, I had a long list of honors. I also had a broken conscience.

I had assumed that Fortune would make it all right. I wanted to own things, to receive things, and I assumed that would put everything in order. Quite the contrary, it was the most disordered thing I ever did.

To “have” something, or to “own” something is an illusion. I own nothing but myself. If there is anything outside of me that I desire, how does having or owning it make me any better? The value it has is already within itself. I only become a pathetic parasite. It is hardly good simply because I hold it in my hand. It was wonderful to begin with. Attaching myself to it makes it no better, and it makes me no better.

Give me money, and someone else had to give it to me. It depends upon another, not upon me. Give me fame, and someone else had to give it to me. It depends upon another, not upon me. Give me power, and someone else has to give it to me. It depends upon another, not upon me.

As smug and satisfied as I will be when I receive it, I will also cry and complain when I am denied it.

There’s the rub. Don’t tell me that who you are is what you have, even as what you have has nothing to do with who you are.

Written in 9/2015

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