It
is in your power to live free from all compulsion in the greatest tranquility
of mind, even if all the world cry out against you as much as they choose, and
even if wild beasts tear in pieces the members of this kneaded matter which has
grown around you.
For
what hinders the mind in the midst of all this from maintaining itself in
tranquility, and in a just judgment of all surrounding things, and in a ready
use of the objects which are presented to it, so that the judgment may say to
the thing which falls under its observation?
This
you are in substance, though in men's opinion you may appear to be of a
different kind.
And
the use shall say to that which falls under the hand: You are the thing that I
was seeking, for to me that which presents itself is always a material for
virtue both rational and political, and in a word, for the exercise of art,
which belongs to man or God.
For
everything that happens has a relationship either to God or man, and is neither
new nor difficult to handle, but usual and apt matter to work on.
—Marcus
Aurelius, Meditations, Book 7 (tr
Long)
“I can’t take any more of this. It’s
too much to handle!”
“I give up, because I can’t win!”
“I hate myself. How can I love
myself when no one else will bother?”
We all like to exude complete
confidence in our lives, but I’m sure there are others out there who have truly
felt like this. The words may differ, but the thinking is much the same. We
feel that we are losers, because we have constantly been told that we are so;
we look at all the people who call themselves winners, and we throw in the
towel.
I have struggled with thoughts like
this for as long as I can remember. And the only remedy is to insist that my
thoughts are my own, and that my life will only end as well, or as poorly, as I
decide to make it. It doesn’t need to have anything to do with what I am given,
but with what I choose to take from it.
Look at how angry I become when I
see the clever, the slick, the entitled, or the holier-than-thou strut their
stuff. But why am I angry? They didn’t do that to me; I did it to myself.
Look at how helpless I feel when I
see my efforts fail, while the efforts of other succeed. But why do I feel
helpless? No one hindered me; I hindered myself.
Look at the despair that consumes me
when I face whatever is beyond my power. But why am I in despair? No one
abandoned me; I abandoned myself.
I become consumed by anger,
helplessness, or despair as soon as I tell myself the biggest of lies, that who
I am depends upon everything else but who I am.
Le the situation be what it may, and
let others be as they will. An old hippie friend of mine liked to say, “It’s
all good!” While I first thought he was just brushing things aside, I came to see
that he meant it quite literally. I wish I had listened more attentively to how
he tied this to all the great themes of philosophy and religion in the world.
Another may have intended abuse and
harm, but I do not need to take it as abuse and harm. I am the one making a
mess of what may end up happening to me, because I am not using it rightly. “Thank
you,” I could say to anything and everything. “You are just what I needed!”
Nothing is too much to handle,
nothing needs to make me give up, and I don’t need to hate myself. This will be
true if I view all events as occasions for good, and I depend only upon my own conscience and integrity.
Does it hurt? Does it make me
stumble? Does it challenge me? Good. I can’t always change that, but I can
always change myself. That is good.
My preference is never to be mauled
by those ravenous animals Marcus Aurelius speaks of, but if that ever came to
pass, I hope I could still say, “It’s all good!” Only my estimation decides
that.
Written in 1/2008
IMAGE: George Stubbs, A Lion Attacking a Horse (1770)
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