Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 7.3

The idle business of show, plays on the stage, flocks of sheep, herds, exercises with spears, a bone cast to little dogs, a bit of bread into fishponds, laborings of ants and burden-carrying, the running about of frightened little mice, puppets pulled by strings—all alike.

It is your duty, then, in the midst of such things to show good humor and not a proud air, and to understand, however, that every man is worth just so much as the things are worth about which he busies himself.

—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, Book 7 (tr Long)

Sometimes I will feel proud of an achievement, and sometimes I will feel ashamed of a failure. The cure for either my vanity or my self-pity is always to remember how so many of those things we consider to be grand and noble, worthy of the highest esteem, are actually rather small, petty, and insignificant.

To win wealth, honor, and influence may seem quite praiseworthy, so much so that a good number of us will dedicate every bit of our efforts to their pursuit. Let them come and go, as they inevitably will, but if I think of them within the bigger picture of the order of Nature, and from the proper perspective of what makes a human life happy and worthwhile, they are like straw.

The imagery Marcus Aurelius uses to describe these lesser things is extremely helpful for me. Whenever I find myself impressed by a big name, or a fat wallet, or the posing and posturing of fashion, or the deeds of apparently important men doing apparently even more important things, I only need to go through this list in my own head. My reaction should not be one of disdain or dismissal, but one of seeing things by the right measure.

I have a cat that is horrified by the doorbell. As a toddler, my son’s life seemed to revolve around a fascination with bananas. I once knew a girl who would stop at each and every reflective surface to adjust her hair and pout. Now these are not bad things, and they may even be amusing or satisfying things, but they are hardly important things.

If I can only look at all the false idols and prophets of the world in the same way, I won’t need to worry about what I have won or lost in the game. I can commit myself to better things, to more fulfilling things, to the life of a good man instead of the life of a busybody.

I don’t need to be angry with the self-absorbed and shallow folks, but I can bear them with kindness and good spirits. If I don’t myself obsess about what is trifling, I will not find it troubling.

At the same time, however, I should recognize that the merit of any man is clearly reflected in the things of life he concerns himself with the most. How much grief would I have saved myself if I had not chosen to admire people who sought career over character? How much heartache would I have avoided if I had not chosen to follow people who sadly loved all the wrong things? They say there should be no crying over spilled milk, but I can certainly learn about where to place my glass on the table the next time.

Let them be, but do not necessarily let yourself be like them. Love your neighbor, but do not necessarily love the same things he loves. Leave the amateur drama, the breadcrumbs, the scuffling of puppies, or the puppet show exactly for what they are, and dedicate yourself to your own human excellence. 

Written in 8/2007