Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 8.35

If you have ever seen a hand cut off, or a foot, or a head, lying anywhere apart from the rest of the body, such does a man make himself, as far as he can, who is not content with what happens, and separates himself from others, or does anything unsocial.

Suppose that you have detached yourself from the Natural Unity—for you were made by Nature a part, but now you have cut yourself off—yet here there is this beautiful provision, that it is in your power again to unite yourself.

God has allowed this to no other part, after it has been separated and cut asunder, to come together again. But consider the kindness by which He has distinguished man, for He has put it in his power not to be separated at all from the Universal. And when he has been separated, He has allowed him to return, and to be united, and to resume his place as a part.

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

Over the years, what I have perceived as being the greatest pain, and what has fed the Black Dog more than anything else, is my feeling that I have been separated from others. This could take the form of being put down, ridiculed, or deceived by people, but mostly I felt hurt by being shunned and ignored when I was no longer thought of as being useful or convenient. Seeing myself abandoned by someone else, I would assume I was somehow cut off from sharing in being human.

My mistake was always the same. I believed that my fellows could exile me from living well, when in fact their actions only divided them from humanity, and never actually did anything to isolate me.

Even if they chose to walk away, I could choose to stay right where I was. Even if they chose to hate, I could still choose to love. Even if they chose to reject, I could still choose to embrace. Only I can decide whether or not I will play my part within the whole.

When Marcus Aurelius speaks of man as a being by nature social, I never understand this in the shallow sense of seeking to be liked, or winning affection, or playing for status in some clever game. I understand it rather in the sense that as a rational creature, I can freely choose to pursue what is good, and to consciously share this with every other rational creature.

We are only completely ourselves in cooperation with one another. Another may remove himself from this harmony, but that absence should encourage me in my place all the more.

And whenever I have been so foolish as to cut myself off from the human whole, my reason and choice can always still allow me to rejoin the human whole. What has been broken can still be made right, since only my judgment needs to be altered to restore my own contribution to the balance.

While I still live, I can still return to the fold. I have today, but not necessarily tomorrow, so let me do this while I can.

I was sometimes confused by the urgency with which people working the Twelve Steps would commit themselves to the Ninth Step, making amends to others. I came to understand that a good part of this dedication followed from recognizing our responsibility to rejoin the human family.

No one ever really casts me out, even as I cast myself out when I reject my seat at the table. I am no more complete than a severed limb when I allow myself to become detached from the rest of humanity, and I should be grateful that no miracle of modern medicine is necessary for me to reattach myself. 

Written in 4/2008