Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 7.4

In discourse you must attend to what is said, and in every movement you must observe what is being done.

And in the one you should watch carefully what is the thing signified, but in the other you should see immediately to what end it refers.

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

Sometimes we will use words, but we’re not quite sure what we mean by them. Sometimes we will engage in a task, but we’re not entirely sure why we might be doing it. At all times and in all things, I should pay attention to what purpose both speech and action are directed.

Language without understanding is nothing but noise, and deeds without direction are nothing but an empty effort. So I should pick my words wisely, always keeping in mind what truth I wish to convey. I should examine my works carefully, always keeping in mind what good I wish to achieve. What is truly intended? How will it improve my own character? How might it help others to improve their own?

I will shamefully admit that I spend too much of my time frustrated by empty talk and pointless business from others. I should be attending first to myself, however, and managing what is rightly within my own power. I am probably best off saying nothing at all, instead of saying something foolish. I am probably best off doing nothing at all, instead of doing something aimless.

If I examine myself honestly, I see that most of what I say involves mouthing words to fill an awkward silence, or speaking only to produce clever repartee, or yapping simply to make myself feel more special and important. I see that most of what I do has little aim other than giving the appearance of being busy, or trying to impress someone, or just blindly doing what I’m told to do, without any thought or reflection.

It isn’t necessarily that saying or doing less is more, but that saying or doing better is surely more.

As a teacher, I have sadly seen how many of our efforts involve asking young people to parrot language they do not comprehend, and to engage in busywork that provides them with no real benefit. Year after year, I see the newcomers to the vocation, at first on fire with idealism and enthusiasm, becoming quickly discouraged that they are nothing more than “babysitters with a benefits package.”

I can only smile, and suggest to new teachers that they should care less about what the system asks them to do, than to find every possible way to do what they know they should be doing to begin with, whatever limitations the system may try to impose on them. Some rise to the task. Many do not. 

 Flapping my lips is not the same thing as comprehending. Being always furiously occupied is not the same thing as being productive. Having real purpose in mind makes all the difference.

Written in 8/2007