Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 8.11

This thing, what is it in itself, in its own constitution?

What is its substance and material?

 And what its causal nature or form?

And what is it doing in the world?

And how long does it subsist?

—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, Book 8 (tr Long)

Consider how often our own estimation adds qualities to things that are not actually present within them. That an image is attractive, or a sound is frightening, or a taste is unpleasant says something about our judgments, but not immediately about the thing that is perceived. I have already added my own interpretation to an experience, and so I have already intermixed what something is with how it seems to me.

Contrary to what the hopeless skeptic might say, however, what the mind has added in its judgments, the mind can also take away. Let me consciously peel away what I can recognize as being my own imposition, and let me consider what remains only within a thing itself.

Suddenly it will not appear so enticing, or terrifying, or painful.

What defines it for itself, and not just for me? What is it made of? Where did it come from? What is its purpose, as distinct from any purpose I may imagine for it?

Very often, it is only my ignorance of what I see that causes me confusion or anxiety. Understood for its own sake, I can gladly accept that it has its rightful place, just as I have mine, and that I can be in control of what I make of it for myself.

Something is no longer a mystery if I can take it apart, look at it from different angles, and observe how it behaves. I do not need to be afraid of it, or angry at it, or overwhelmed by it.

Last but not least, if I perceive that it is hardly permanent, and that it too shall pass, as all things must pass, I will never need to find it insurmountable.

When I say that something hurts, for example, I can examine both the object and myself, and I can understand the source of that feeling. Then I will decide what I will make of it, knowing full well that both the object and myself are here as they are for a reason, and that they are here for only a time.

This is not a pipe. It is an image that represents a pipe. This is neither a duck, nor a rabbit, but a series of lines that can be seen from different perspectives. This is not a beautiful young woman, or a hideous old lady. So too, this event or that experience is not the best thing that has happened to me, or the worst thing that has happened to me, but will only be as important to me as I judge it to be. This way I can always make everything good for myself by how I employ it, and bad for myself only if I abuse it.

You didn’t break my heart; I chose to consider myself injured. It didn’t make me lose faith; I chose to no longer believe. Death is not an evil; I chose to be afraid.

Written in 2/2008