Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 7.27

Think not so much of what you have not, as of what you have.

Think of the things that you have selected the best, and then reflect how eagerly they would have been sought if you had them not.

At the same time, however, take care that you do not, through being so pleased with them, accustom yourself to overvalue them, so as to be disturbed if ever you should not have them.

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

I am completely aware that that I can be a spoiled little brat, as so many of us in this first-world country can be. I am a consumer. I require, I expect, and I demand. And all the things I think I am entitled to have absolutely nothing to do with me, but are rather all about adding further trappings to what is outside of me.

I may consider all the things I think I have rights to. But perhaps it is best not to cover them here, because the list would go on for many pages. No, let me consider only one thing, the only aspect of life that matters. What has Nature truly given me, whoever I might be?

There is actually only one thing, within all the politics about jobs, or health care, or housing. There is actually only one thing, through all the wars, and the poverty, and the oppression. It is the power over my own thoughts and actions. Let the bullies, the profiteers, and the tyrants do their thing. They will do what they do, you know, whether I like it or not. But they can’t steal my conscience.

It is only when I understand that simple fact that I can also appreciate anything and everything else that may, or may not, come my way. I may struggle to be happy with whatever will be given to me by fortune, but the struggle is never about how much I have. It is all about what I make of what I have.

That is why I can use these two Stoic “bookends” about external circumstances for my life:

I can be grateful for what I have, just by imagining how much I would want it if I didn’t have it.

I can also be deeply wary of what I have, just by recognizing how much it would hurt me if I loved it too much.

Give it to me, or take it away from me. I must treat both possibilities with exactly the same worth.

Stoicism isn’t a special club, or a forum for intellectual posturing, or a philosophical excuse for my own worldly successes and failures. It demands a complete and total shift of moral values. It isn’t about who I may have voted for, or the size of my paycheck, or the recognition I might receive.

It is about an appreciation of simply being human, and all that this entails, in the fullness of Nature and Providence. It means never being happy or miserable because of my conditions. It never defines me by what I have, or have not, but who I am, or am not.

A student once asked me what made the usual state of affairs so different from a Stoic attitude, and almost without thinking I blurted out:

“One asks you to try and change the world, so you can feel better. The other asks you to actually change yourself, so you can be better.”

Now I don’t know if that’s helpful, or even as accurate as it could have been, but it still sticks with me. Your mileage may vary. 

Written in 4/1997