Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 7.45

For thus it is, men of Athens, in truth: wherever a man has placed himself, thinking it the best place for him, or has been placed by a commander, there in my opinion he ought to stay and to abide the hazard, taking nothing into the reckoning, either death or anything else, before the baseness of deserting his post.

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

Continuing with his reference to Plato’s Apology, Marcus Aurelius points to the parallel between following one’s conscience and standing one’s ground in battle. Now the analogy may seem a bit too masculine for some, but there is certainly a common virtue at play, what can be called fortitude, courage, or bravery, the willingness to confront what I fear for the sake of what I know to be right and good.

Though my reflections can be deeply confessional at times, sometimes to a fault, there are experiences in my life I choose never to share any details of at all. In a few instances, I have faced fear so powerful I thought it would melt me on the spot, and the very thought of these times can still leave me as a trembling mess. What I have learned from such terrifying impressions is the willingness to distinguish between what the world can take from me, and what I can surrender of myself.

Sometimes I might be afraid of shame, or of losing what I think are my rightful possessions, or of having my freedom taken from me, or of pain, either physical or emotional, or even of dying. What makes fear so powerful, I notice, is the expectation of what I suspect is likely to happen next.

When I crushed my thumb as a child, the worst part of it was actually looking at that squashed and mangled piece of me, hardly recognizing it at all, and still feeling nothing at all. It was the physical agony I knew would soon follow that scared me so much.

Oddly enough, when it did inevitably follow, it was more bearable than the worry about it, and I suffered more from the thoughtless babble by a nurse about possible amputation than I did from my every nerve being on fire.

So what am I actually afraid of? The prospect of losing something I care about, and the torture of continuing suffering that seems to serve no purpose, and the crippling doubt about whether I can manage to bear it.

I would probably have brushed this off when I was younger, but I see that my conscious thinking often brings me far more fear than any emotional instinct or physical feeling ever could. And so I wonder, can I conquer my fear not merely by being toughened to pain, but by being sound in my judgments?

If I look at what I might lose, what my circumstances may take away from me, do I not see that this really has little to do with me? If I look at the merit of my own choices and actions, do I not see how this is so much more important?

So maybe I will be ridiculed, or robbed, or locked up, or have my heart broken, or be tortured, or be killed. What are they to me, since they can be done to me anyway, at any time?

But I can leave those things where they are, for what they are, and still decide to do the right thing. That is entirely up to me. My estimation will make all of the difference, about what matters more, and about what matters less.

Courage doesn’t necessarily take a big man. It takes a good man. 

Written in 12/2007

IMAGE: William Barnes Wollen, The Last Stand of the Survivors of Her Majesty's 44th Regiment of Foot at Gandamak (1898)