Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 8.22

Short lived are both the praiser and the praised, and the rememberer and the remembered.

And all this in a nook of this part of the world; and not even here do all agree, no, not any one with himself, and the whole earth too is a point.

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

Just as I can understand the passing nature of the body, how weak and vulnerable it really is, I can likewise consider all the things in my life that I thought were great, but were really quite small.

I mustn’t look at this as a discouragement, or as some terrible statement of despair, but rather as a reminder to see everything in its proper perspective, to cling to what is truly significant, and to let go of the things that are actually insignificant.

To learn what has nothing stable within it, can in turn lead me to embracing what is the source of all that is stable.

I can look at honor, at being praised and revered, and I can see that there is nothing reliable about it, because it does not come from me. It will come and go with the whims of fashion, the sentiments of others, and the winds of change.

I can look at memory, at the promise of living on forever because people will recall my greatness, and I can see that there is nothing reliable about it, because it has nothing to do with what I may have done. What others remember, or think they remember, is in their own estimation, not in the merit of my actions. And their estimation will soon pass, just as mine will.

Through it all, I look at how tiny and variable every aspect of my supposed world really is, within the context of the whole of existence.

Do I have many friends? Then I also assure you I will have many enemies. Am I greatly loved? Then I also assure you I will be greatly hated.

And when it’s all over, after all has been said and done, only one thing can remain for me. What was within my power, while I was here, regardless of who may or may not have noticed it, or praised it, or despised it, or ignored it? The virtue of what I thought, and the virtue of what I did: that was mine.

And it was never pointless at all, because by being what I was made to be, I did my specific part in the order of what is Universal. No one needs to glorify it, and no one needs to memorialize it; it was good in itself, and for nothing else.

I am hardly nothing, since I am a part of everything, but it is the greatest vanity to make of myself everything. Once I see myself within the whole, and never in conflict with anyone or anything, my need to glorify myself can cease. I am not everything, but in service to everything. 

Written in 3/2008