Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 9.20

It is your duty to leave another man's wrongful act there where it is.

—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, Book 9.20 (tr Long)

This is a lesson I need to relearn every day, sometimes many times a day. In the heat of the moment I can forget it completely, because few impressions tug as powerfully as the knee-jerk reaction to want to respond in kind.

It is unpleasant enough to feel wronged, though I still find myself tempted to throw more fuel on the fire, to escalate the conflict. How many times might a situation have been quite bearable, yet I have made it so much harder to face because of my own stubborn refusal to simply let something be?

Over time I have come to expect that people will more often than not act poorly, not because I have some dark or pessimistic view of the world, but because I know from my own experience that it is far easier to act without thought and concern than it is to make an effort to be responsible and caring. To accept this fact is the beginning of my ability to be forgiving instead of resentful, to make it right instead of compounding the wrong. I know how often I will fail, so I can hardly hold it against another.

This will not excuse an evil, or wish it out of existence, but it will put it in its place, keeping it from festering and spreading. I can’t put a stop to what others may think and do, but I can certainly put a stop to what I may think or do. To face a vice with a virtue is to stop it in its tracks, and to transform it into something helpful instead of harmful.

One of my many odd interests in college was reading old Icelandic sagas, where the slightest offense or disagreement would end up bringing ever greater grief and misfortune on the characters. If only someone, somewhere down the line, had turned away from the desire for vengeance, or even avoided some foolish blunder, all would have been well. I appreciated the principle here, but it was quite strange that it took me so much longer to embrace the practice.

I know full well that lighting a match around a gas leak, or poking a snarling dog with a stick, is not a good idea, and yet I will all too easily offend when I have been offended, seek to hurt when I have been hurt. Blame and bickering only make it worse, while rising above the fray can help to make it better.

The greatest kindnesses I have ever received were never from people helping me to smite my enemies, but from people helping me to move beyond an injustice.

To let it go is not to ignore it, or to wish it away, or to run from a response. It is actually responding with compassion, by limiting the damage and beginning to rebuild. We’ve heard it so many times, but we still don’t seem to get it: two wrongs don’t make a right, and it takes two to fight.

Written in 10/2008